Colossians 3:1-4
Easter Sunday
Basil Pennington,
a catholic monk and spiritual writer, once went on a Zen retreat. He felt like
there were things in the Buddhist tradition he could learn from. And as it
turns out, the leader of the retreat felt the same way. Part of every Zen
retreat is a daily meeting with the roshi, the master — meetings which are
notoriously challenging and often confrontational. But when Fr. Basil’s turn
came, the master was delighted to see him. He greeted him with a big smile and
said, “I love your Christianity! But I need to learn something from you.” Then
bending forward, he gazed at him intently and said, “Show me your
resurrection!” He wasn’t asking for historical proof that Jesus had been raised
from the dead; he wanted to see the resurrection in the man sitting in front of
him.
An impossible Zen
request? I don’t think so. People show me their resurrection frequently. Just
last week I was talking with an older woman who was telling me about her
daughter’s death. She had died from cancer at a young age, and it was every bit
as awful as you can imagine it was: painful and debilitating treatments,
periods of hope followed by crushing disappointment, and the slow but
relentless decline brought on by the disease. After it became apparent that the
cancer would kill her daughter, this woman was understandably in anguish. But
one day, when she was praying, she was moved to surrender her daughter. She
found herself saying, “God, she’s yours. I know you love her. I know she will
be with you. I know you will take care of her.” And as she uttered this words,
she experienced a presence, gentle but powerful, almost overwhelming, and she
felt to the core of her being that it would all be okay, that her daughter
would live with Christ. That moment did not take away her sadness, but it
filled her with peace and changed everything for her. It carried her through
her daughter’s death. It has sustained her active life of faith to this day,
decades later. As I listened to her, I realized she was showing me her
resurrection, showing me how she lives the resurrection of Christ.
The early church
was all about living the resurrection. Did you catch those amazing words from
Colossians? So if you have been raised
with Christ, seek the things that are above, where Christ is, seated at the
right hand of God. . . . For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ
in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be
revealed with him in glory. Christ is Risen and you share in that, the
writer says, it is now the essence of your life. It is worth noting that those
words, composed by the Apostle Paul or a close associate, were almost certainly
written before the Gospel account of the empty tomb that we just heard.
Obviously those early believers cherished the story of that first Easter day,
but for them it was not just a wonderful miracle from the past, but a present
reality. Their proclamation — our proclamation — is not that Christ was raised
but that Christ is Risen. And the Good News is not just that someday we will
share in that resurrection, but we share in it now: If you have been raised with Christ, seek the things that are above,
where Christ is. And, as the text makes clear, of course you have been
raised with Christ: his resurrection touches every human being.
This is
important. Jesus wasn’t raised from the dead so that an elite club called the
church could be in on the secret and go to heaven while the rest of benighted
humanity suffers eternal death. No, what kind of God would do that? The
resurrection of Christ is for everyone and it affects everyone because Christ
is for everyone. Listen to this passage from an earlier chapter in the same
letter to the Colossians: Christ is the
image of the invisible God, the firstborn of all creation; for in him all
things in heaven and earth were created, things visible and invisible, whether
thrones or dominions or rulers or powers--all things have been created through
him and for him. He himself is before all things and in him all things hold
together. He is the head of the body, the church; he is the beginning, the
firstborn from the dead, so that he might come to have first place in
everything. For in him all the fullness of God was pleased to dwell, and
through him God was pleased to reconcile to himself all things, whether on
earth or in heaven, by making peace through the blood of his cross. (Col.
1:15-20).
His resurrection
matters to all people, whether they believe it or not. So often we act as if
faith means being like the White Queen in Alice
in Wonderland who could believe as many as six impossible things before
breakfast. My message this morning is not that you should try really, really
hard to believe this seemingly impossible thing, that Jesus rose from the dead.
There are certainly strong and compelling historical reasons to believe that,
but I don’t think you necessarily have to believe it in order to experience it.
In fact, I think often people experience it and then come to believe it.
After all, if in
Christ all things hold together, we should expect to see signs of his
resurrection all around us. Yes, life can hit us hard with illness and failure,
loss and tragedy. Yes, the news is grim, filled with senseless acts of violence
and millions of people displaced and despairing. And yet there is something in
our world, there is something in us, which will not let darkness and death have
the final word. I see it in the grieving widow reaching out to help others. I
see it in recovering addicts and alcoholics embracing a whole new way of
living. I see it every time a parishioner faces hardship with hope and trust.
The Risen Christ is the one who holds all things together, the hidden operating
system, if you will, of the whole universe. And occasionally he’s not so
hidden. I can’t help but think of the Rev. Jennifer Durant, our Associate
Rector who died from ALS over two years ago now. Just a few weeks before she
died, I was with her in her office. Her health was clearly deteriorating fast,
and things were looking awful. And that day I had with her what was probably
the most excruciatingly painful conversation I have had with another person.
But at one point she paused, and said, “I am so thankful for this office. I
love the way the light shines in.” And suddenly there was light there, and not
just the light of the afternoon sun, but the light of Christ. And we both knew
it: she was going to die soon, and it was going to be okay. In the time she had
left, she would live the resurrection.
Christ is risen
for us; Christ is risen in us; Christ is risen all around us. If we are open
enough to see the signs of that, we don’t have to show up on Easter morning and
try to believe anything. We can hear the Easter story and say, “Yes, that is
true. I know it’s true because I’m living it.”
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