Easter Sermon

This is what I preached in church on Sunday. Again I had help, from Paul Jaster in Sundays & Seasons, from Kelly Fryer in The Lutheran Course.

Resurrection of Our Lord—Easter Day
April 16, 2006
Mark 16:1-8
Thomas Arth

I was reading something on the internet.
A Lutheran pastor was musing
that the women we just heard about in the gospel reading
were the first Lutherans.
They get blown away
by the best news ever revealed in the history of the world,
before and since—
and don’t tell anyone!
We Lutherans have remained faithful to this scripture!
It’s been said that the only commandment we’ve ever obeyed
is Jesus’ command to secrecy, "Don’t tell anyone!"
Give us another 500 years—
and we might start telling the secret!
Now, of course, he was joking.
But plenty of people in many other Christian denominations
could probably make the same joke.
Christians are supposed to be
all about spreading and sharing the good news.
We’re not here to reform people’s morals,
or to police their behaviour.
The Holy Spirit calls, gathers, enlightens, and sanctifies us
so that the Word of unconditional promise made to the world
in the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth
might be the focus of our life, our mission,
and that through us
the world would know what we know.

Yes, the news of Easter Day is good.
But do you think maybe it’s just a little too good?
Too good to be true?
Doesn’t it sound less like the gospel truth
and more like wishful thinking or a fairy tale?
I just read the Easter story from Mark.
Now, you may know that Mark is the shortest of the Gospels
and most scholars think it’s the earliest of the Gospels,
the first one written.
If you were to look into your own Bibles
you might find that there’s more to the story after verse 8
but the rest might have brackets around it or footnotes
explaining that the most ancient authorities
bring the book to a close at the end of verse 8,
just as our reading did today.
It’s kind of abrupt, kind of harsh, and strange
that the messenger at the tomb tells the women
to go and tell what they’ve seen and heard,
but they don’t do it.
Instead they flee in terror and amazement
and say nothing to anyone out of fear.
That’s why that joker on the internet said
they must have been the first Lutherans.
They receive this good news but won’t tell anyone about it.

The first witnesses of the resurrection
had their problems with the message.
No one thought Jesus would rise from the dead,
least of all the first disciples.
The Bible usually portrays the disciples as being quite clueless.
Jesus tells them a number of times that he has to die
and that he’ll rise again, but they don’t clue in.
When it came down to the crunch they took off.
All of them had fled.
Even the women who came to the tomb
sought the dead among the dead.
They were coming with spices they bought
so that they could anoint the body.
They were doing it out of love and respect,
a final act of kindness for the Jesus they knew and loved.
When they heard that their Lord was raised,
they were so poorly prepared for this news
that they turned their tails and fled.
Their mouths were zippered shut.

Isn’t that just like us?
We claim to be disciples of Jesus Christ.
We pay him our respects
and anoint him with our fragrant thoughts of adoration.
Then, when we are called upon to "go and tell"
and proclaim his death and resurrection,
we are filled with fear and trembling.
But you know, we’ve got an advantage
over the women who came to the tomb that morning.
We’ve been met by Jesus.
Meeting Jesus changes your life
and makes you want to share that with everybody.
But, maybe if we’re not sharing that with everybody,
we haven’t met Jesus.
Have you?
Do you know what happens when the word is proclaimed,
in the reading of the scriptures,
in the preaching of the gospel?
What happens?
Jesus comes.
What happens when the sacrament of baptism is shared?
When we speak God’s promises over a person as water is poured?
Jesus comes.
What happens when we hold out our hands
to receive the bread and wine of Holy Communion?
We receive Jesus.
Have you met Jesus?
Well, did you hear the word today?
Did you receive the bread, the wine?
Is the body and blood of Jesus Christ given for you?
You were met by Jesus.
It’s not like we have to go racing around the world looking for Jesus.
Jesus comes to us!
A couple of years ago I stood up a chalkboard in the middle of the chancel
and I drew a big arrow pointing down.
It was something I taught to the confirmation kids,
something I know they got because I drilled it into them week after week.
It's a simple message.
The arrow means that God always comes down.
God comes down in the bread and the wine.
God comes down in the water of baptism.
God comes down in the word that’s spoken.
God comes down in the community we share as Christians.
God came down in Jesus.
God comes down in Jesus.
God always comes down.
There’s never anything that we could do to flip that arrow around
and make our way up to God.
It’s a gift.
So, have you met Jesus?
Have you been met by Jesus?
Yes.

But just because we are so often failures as disciples, however,
doesn’t mean that God allows it to remain that way.
Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.
But, more than that, he raises us from the dead
and gives us the strength, the power,
the courage for service.
The risen Christ could have written off his disciples
and summoned others in their place,
especially Peter who denied him.
They all deserted him, denied him, betrayed him.
He could have said,
"This bunch of losers will never amount to anything.
Before I ascend to my Father in heaven
I better gather together a crew
that’s going to make something of themselves
and get this message out there."
He could have written them off.
He could write us off, too,
especially when we deny him again and again.
But he didn’t, and he doesn’t.
Instead, Jesus gathers his fearful, faithless disciples,
forgives them, and empowers them for service.

Listen to the stories of some who have been empowered,
who have gone out and shared the good news.
One woman, a Lutheran, worked in a salon
and she was one of the shyest people you’d ever meet.
If you met her in a crowd
she’d be the one standing at the back against the wall.
But she was responsible for bringing more people into her church
than anyone else.
They were people she worked with at the salon,
or her neighbours,
or the parents of kids
who played on teams with her kids.
She would always say, when asked,
that the reason she invited so many people to come to church
is because she loved her church.
She probably did love her church.
But here’s the real truth—
she loved people.
And she saw them.
When she was talking to them she could see them.
She could see the emptiness.
She could see the difficulty.
She could see how much they needed what she had found
and it was the most natural thing in the world
for her to invite those people to come.

Another woman had been disconnected from the church
through her whole adult life.
She’d been married in the church,
but had no connection after that.
Her children hadn’t been baptized,
her grandchildren hadn’t been baptized.
Well, she found her way back to the church
and started telling people about what she was experiencing there.
All of a sudden her neighbours and co-workers
started talking about their church activities.
She didn’t want to hurt any of their feelings
but she said to her pastor,
"I went through such terrible times in my life
working right alongside all these people,
and never did any of them invite me to come to church with them,
or talk to me about their faith,
or offer to pray with me,
or even offer to pray for me.
None of them dared to talk about those things,
until I started talking about how I was going to church.
I just keep asking myself,
now why didn’t they share that with me?
It could have made such a difference."

We have been met by our risen Lord, Jesus.
We know the truth of the resurrection.
We haven’t looked into the empty tomb.
We haven’t heard angel voices.
But we have, in one way or another,
come to know the truth of this day.
Wherever we see people being healed, reconciled, set free,
we catch a glimpse of that morning at the tomb.
We know the truth of this day by sick beds,
at a meeting of AA,
in the presence of a person whose loss
is too fresh or raw even to mention,
but who keeps going.
We hear Easter in the laughter on the day of a funeral,
in the giggles of a child,
in every asking and giving of forgiveness.

Once again Jesus takes his position at the head of his forgiven flock
and leads them in a ministry of teaching, healing, preaching,
loving, and serving.
The women’s encounter with the angel at the empty tomb
is as much about the resurrection of deadbeat disciples
as it is about the resurrection of Jesus.
What does Jesus do with our fear, our reluctance,
even refusal to share what we have been given?
He forgives us,
and then empowers us to go forth
to tell the world the good news.
We have life,
something the world needs, our families need,
our neighbours need,
and we have the freedom to give it.
Now that’s a resurrection—
a rising from the dead!
Amen

Easter Sunrise Sermon

For the 4th year now, we gather at 7 a.m. on Easter Sunday at our church's cemetery out in the country for a service of Holy Communion. This year we had 48 people gathered (our average Sunday attendance last year was 48). After the sunrise service we came back to church for breakfast and then at 10:30 a.m. we worshiped in the church (74 people).

Here's the sermon from the sunrise service.

The Resurrection of our Lord — Easter Dawn
April 16, 2006
John 20.1-18
Thomas Arth

He’s Gone.
That’s what they’ve been thinking the last few days.
He’s Gone.
Their teacher, their friend, their Lord, is gone.
Some of them say, "we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel."
But he was condemned to death, crucified, dead and buried.
Gone forever.

Their hopes are dashed.
Their faith is destroyed.
He talked, he preached, about the kingdom of God.
He could have been their new king.
The things he told them.
Things about peace,
about love,
about forgiveness.
Was it a lie?
Was it wishful thinking?
Is it all over?
He’s gone.
It’s over.

Sometimes when things are just so bad
you wonder how it could possibly get worse.
Sometimes, unfortunately, you find out.

Mary loved Jesus.
He had healed her of severe afflictions
and she became a disciple, traveling with him
hearing him teach,
loving him to the end.
He was hounded all his life.
Herod wanted him dead.
The people in his own home town
would have thrown him from a cliff.
Others felt so threatened by his preaching
that they constantly tried to trick him
to get him into trouble.
They didn’t quit.
They never let up.
Finally it seemed the whole city,
the whole country,
the whole world,
was crying "Crucify him! Kill him!"
And all that Mary could do was watch.
She witnessed his horrible death.

There are many paintings depicting the crucifixion.
One in particular shows the scene,
the sky is dark,
the world is in darkness.
In the dark shadows at the foot of the cross is a figure.
It is Mary.
She holds on to Jesus’ bleeding feet.
She kisses those tortured feet.

She was there.
She wept with Jesus’ mother.
She watched them place him in his tomb.
She saw them roll the stone over the opening.

On Sunday she came back.
How could it possibly get worse?
He’s gone.
The one who saved her,
who set her free,
who loved her,
he’s gone, it can’t get any worse.

Oh, but she comes to the tomb.
It’s not the way she left it.
The stone is rolled away.
What have they done?

They’ve taken him away.
Not a moment of peace in his life.
And now in death
they wouldn’t even let his body rest in peace.

Her heart is broken.
Can she cry any more tears?
She can.

But she’s not alone.
A voice says:
"Woman, why are you weeping?
It’s an uncommon question to be asked in a cemetery.
"Why are you weeping?"
"They took my Master, and I don’t know where they put him."
"Mister, if you took him, tell me where you put him."

Mister?
Oh, no!
Mary!
Open your eyes!
He’s not gone!
He’s here, and he’s alive!
Nobody’s taken him anywhere.
Look Mary. See who it is.

In her grief. In her deepest sadness. Mary didn’t see.
How could she have expected to see Jesus?
She saw him die, with her own eyes.
Saw him wrapped in linen,
laid in the tomb,
She saw the stone laid over the opening,
a sure sign of the finality of death.
Hope destroyed, faith dashed.
Is it so unheard of?
Who has the kind of faith that comes to a cemetery
expecting to find life?

But listen.
The man, the gardener(?), he says something.
"Mary!"
Did you hear him?
Did you hear what he said?
"Mary!"
He said, "Merv!"
He said, "Gerry!" "Jordyn!" "Heather!"
Did you hear what he said?

The question, "Why are you weeping?" is not so uncommon now.
Because the one asking the question has a surprise in store.

He didn’t leave her hanging for long.
When she had bottomed out with despair,
when she had lost all hope,
when her faith was gone,
when life was meaningless,
He called her name.
When life is gone,
when death seems to reign,
when there is no reason for hope
when you can’t find meaning,
He calls your name.

He’s full of surprises.
He surprised an adulterous woman
when she heard the rocks meant for her body
fall onto the ground
because no one would cast the first stone.
He surprised a Samaritan woman
who was expecting the day when the Messiah would come
and heard Jesus say, "I am he, the one who is speaking to you."
He surprised the widow from Nain
whose only son was dead
but Jesus said, "Young man, I say to you, rise!"
He surprised a criminal on death row
who hung on a cross next to his
and who entered Paradise with him that day.
He surprised a woman in a cemetery
who watched him die
who watched him be buried
but who heard him call her name.
He’s not gone!

When she realized who this man was,
when she realized that her master,
her Lord was alive,
she went and announced it to the disciples.
It was news she couldn’t keep to herself.
He’s not gone!
He’s alive!

Death is not the end.
The grave is not the end.
The stone can’t shut him in.
"Death has been swallowed up in victory.
…victory through our Lord Jesus Christ."

He’s not gone.
He’s alive.
And he calls your name.

Good Friday Sermon

With help from Paul Jaster in Sundays & Seasons, and from Elizabeth Achtemeier in Preaching and Reading the Old Testament Lessons: With an Eye to the New, and from Ben Witherington III from John's Wisdom: A Commentary on the Fourth Gospel.

Good Friday
April 14, 2006
John 18.1—19.42
Thomas Arth

Leave it to a child to pose the key question for this day:
"Why do we call it Good Friday if this is the day that Jesus died?"
I started writing this sermon on Monday morning,
pondering that question,
and that afternoon one of my kids came home
saying that a friend at school asked just that question.
It’s a question I’ve heard many times on the lips of children.
It might also be a question in the minds of adults
but we’re too embarrassed or too shy to voice it.
The mood of today’s worship service is definitely somber.
We sing hymns in minor keys.
We gather and then we leave in silence.
Our worship space was stripped bare last night
so that today the church seems absolutely barren.
No flowers, no greens, no colour,
no paraments, no candles, no cross.
Everything points to the sadness, the sombreness of this day.
So why do we call it "Good" Friday?
Good Friday is a good time to answer this good question
with good news—the best news of all.
It may have been "bad" for Jesus,
but what he did upon the cross was "good" for us.
That’s why we call it "Good Friday."

The death of Jesus was "bad" for him.
He bore in his own body all the hatred
and the violence of the world.
He took the lumps, the lashes, and the bruises.
The spit and mockery.
The baiting and temptations.
The awful raw nakedness.
The hunger and thirst.
The bone-shattering, heart-wrenching,
flesh-piercing sense of God-forsakenness.
In the reading from Isaiah we heard,
"He was wounded for our transgressions,
crushed for our iniquities;
upon him was the punishment that made us whole,
and by his bruises we are healed."
That reading from Isaiah is known as the fourth Servant Song.
The song describes a suffering servant,
one who suffers for the sake of others.
Hauled into court, the servant makes no defense of himself.
Instead he is condemned to death,
and a shameful death at that.
He is buried along with all the other criminals
and forgotten as of no importance,
even though he actually was innocent of our transgressions
with which he was charged.
But it says that all of that was God’s will!
God used the servant’s death as the payment for our own sin.
The innocent servant’s death atoned
for what all of us have done wrong!
And as a result,
all of us are now counted righteous in the eyes of our God.

Yet, Jesus’ death was "good" for us.
In total faithfulness to God, he proclaimed God’s forgiveness.
He created a new family—
not one based on tribe, marriage, or blood ties,
but on faith in him.
He promised "paradise today" to any who would dare to believe it.
He "handed over" his spirit
to those who had the guts to follow him.
Martin Luther spoke of this "joyful exchange,"
which faith recognizes and grabs hold of.
Through our response of faith in him the circuit is complete,
the electricity is let loose,
and the new life and power of the Spirit is unleashed.
Jesus’ death was "good" for us
because it was necessary for our life
in communion with one another and with God.
The cross can be too pretty these days.
We didn’t veil our cross this year during Lent.
But why do we normally do that?
The reason for that custom
of veiling the cross and crucifix during Lent
comes out of the Middle Ages.
Crosses and crucifixes were often splendid, jewel-encrusted works of art
and veiling them during Lent provided a "fast for the eyes."
The point wasn’t to hide the cross
but to cover up how fancy many crosses had become.
In our culture the cross has become trivialized,
often turned into a mere article of jewelry.
The modern equivalent of wearing a cross
would be wearing a little golden electric chair around one’s neck.
Many wear a cross as nothing more than costume jewelry
without making any statement of faith whatsoever.
To this day, religious Muslims who consider Jesus a great prophet,
don’t believe that he died on a cross.
They don’t see it as necessary nor appropriate,
only as scandalous, for how could a loving or just God
allow such a thing to happen
to so good and just a son as Jesus?
And looking at it that way it would be true.
Unless Jesus’ death was absolutely necessary for our salvation,
for the forgiveness of sins, and for life everlasting,
then God wouldn’t be a loving God.
But we believe that Jesus’ self-sacrifice was a grace-filled act
to redeem us from the death we deserve,
to give us new life.
It was not the nails, that held Jesus to the cross.
Nor was it our sin.
Our sin couldn’t force God to do anything at all,
much less nail God to a cross,
if God didn’t choose for it to happen.
It was Jesus’ love for us that held him there—his love for us.
That’s the joyful exchange of Good Friday.
Jesus "was wounded for our transgressions"
and "crushed for our iniquities"
and "by his bruises we are healed"—
healed in the eyes of our God,
counted righteous once more in God’s sight,
despite all of the sins and terribly human mistakes and weaknesses
to which we all fall prey.
Through faith in Jesus Christ
we are restored to the household of our Father
and know his loving and sustaining presence.
That is life, abundant life,
and joy, and eternity with our God!
This love is what makes the Friday that he died so "good."
Amen

The Three Days

We are approaching the high point, the climax, the centre of the year. I'm talking about the days and nights, the celebration and worship, of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter. At the centre of our church year is the celebration of the mystery of a Christian Passover.

In their faith and worship life, Jews observe the Passover remembering their liberation from bondage in Egypt. Passover is a family meal with a liturgy that proclaims:

"We were Pharaoh's slaves in Egypt, and the Lord our God brought us forth from there with a mighty hand and an outstretched arm. And if the Holy One, blessed be he, had not brought our forefathers forth from Egypt, then we, our children, and our children's children would still be Pharaoh's slaves in Egypt."

But in their celebration the Jews are not only remembering, celebrating, or commemorating an historic event. In their eating and their liturgy they become part of this deliverance themselves. They say:

"In every generation let each man look on himself as if he came forth out of Egypt. As it is said: "And thou shalt tell thy son in that day, saying: It is because of that which the Lord did for me when I came forth out of Egypt". . . .

It was not only our fathers that the Holy One, blessed be he, redeemed, but us as well did he redeem along with them. . . .

He has brought us forth from slavery to freedom, from sorrow to joy, from mourning to holiday, from darkness to great light, and from bondage to redemption."

The focus of the Passover meal for Jews is the grace of God who nourishes and delivers God's people, a grace which was particularly evident in the Exodus.

The Three Days is our Christian Passover. We are not simply remembering, celebrating, commemorating, or recreating the events of Jesus' death and resurrection. Our worship is not about going back in time but letting the spiritual power of death and resurrection be real for us today. We often proclaim the mystery of our faith without even thinking about it. They're just words on a page. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. In Christ we have become part of eternity and in these liturgies we participate in the mystery at the centre of our lives and faith.

In Holy Baptism our gracious heavenly Father liberates us from sin and death by joining us to the death and resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ. It's real and it's now and in Holy Week we experience it in the here and now. Craig Mueller, a Lutheran pastor in Chicago, writes: "In these holy days we find both our identity and our mission—remembered in the past, made present through word and sacrament, and propelling us with invincible hope into the future."

Please go to church and worship with your church family this Holy Week and Easter season. Let us be glad and rejoice.

Rest eternal grant her, O Lord

A cyber-friend's mother died yesterday. Lutheranchik writes an awesome blog. I almost feel like I know her from reading her daily thoughts. I feel sad for her. I've done a few funerals in my not-quite four years as a pastor (33 to be exact) and some of the phrases and scripture references in the LBW funeral liturgy are just so perfect.

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the source of all mercy and the God of all consolation. He comforts us in all our sorrows so that we can comfort others in their sorrows with the consolation we ourselves have received from God (2 Cor 1.3-4).

When we were baptized in Christ Jesus, we were baptized into his death. We were buried therefore with him by Baptism into death, so that as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live a new life. For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we shall certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his (Rom 6.3-5).

Give courage and faith to those who are bereaved, that they may have strength to meet the days ahead in the comfort of a holy and certain hope, and in the joyful expectation of eternal life with those they love.

Help us, we pray, in the midst of things we cannot understand, to believe and trust in the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, and the resurrection to life everlasting.

Rest eternal grant her, O Lord;
and let light perpetual shine upon her.

God's peace be with you LC.