easter-morning-2020-monroe.md

April 12:Easter Day – Monroe

Thin space – The time between times

It all comes down to an image for me. I saw it literally and frequently in Hawai’i. Sitting on a shore, looking out at the ocean, wistfully, peacefully, longing. A priest I knew once saw me doing that on the island of Moloka’i. He told me that when he saw me looking that way, across the lapping waves out to sea, it explained to him in a flash what it meant to live in Hawai’i.
What I was looking at was the intersection of the ocean and the land. At a certain point in that intersection it’s a little bit of ocean and a little bit of shore – but neither at the same time.
A poet and a philosopher by the name of John O’Donohue gave me that image as a metaphor for what the Irish Celtic spiritual tradition has called thin places. Thin places are where the distance between God and human is not very great. It is a place where the mundane is made sacred. It is a place where the grandeur and majesty of the divinity is made humble so that it can mingle with the likes of you and me.
Another way to think of thin places is that they are a time between times. It’s neither what came before nor what will come after. It is a place where, as Annie Dillard put it, God might break in at any moment and blast it to bits.
We are living through a thin place.

Then and Now

Then

Today is Easter Sunday. The narrative we have just heard is placed in Jerusalem, year circa 33 CE. There is turmoil that will explode in another generation into a general revolt which will be crushed in brutal fashion by Rome.
In a minor narrative, probably not noticed by most people, a holy man from the north of the country has descended upon the city. He offended religious leaders. He sparked passion among some as he performed miracles. He got caught between the political forces of the rulers and the ruled. He was executed.

The ¹ very first Easter the disciples were locked in their house. It was dangerous for them to come out. They were afraid. They wanted to believe the good news they heard from the women, that Jesus had risen. But it seemed too good to be true. They were living in a time of such despair and such fear. If they left their homes their lives and the lives of their loved ones might be at risk. Could a miracle really have happened? Could life really had won out over death? Could this time of terror and fear really be coming to an end?

Alone in their homes they dared to believe that hope was possible, that the long night was over and morning had broken, that God’s love was the most powerful of all, even though it didn’t seem quite real yet. Eventually, they were able to leave their homes, when the fear and danger had subsided, they went around celebrating and spreading the good news that Jesus was risen and love was the most powerful force on the earth

Now

Today we are quarantined behind the doors of our homes. If we leave our home, our own lives and the lives of our loved ones might be put in jeopardy. If we are homeless we are quarantined to our 6 foot section of pavement. It is dangerous to go out. We can’t see the enemy because the enemy is a virus. Scientists are not even sure whether it’s a living thing or not. One of the greatest threats is the threat of fear.
But you are here – mostly you are here in a virtual way, facilitated by the internet – you are here because for you in some sense or another the place of bondage and fear is not your home. Your true home is another sort of place. A place of shouts of joy, the play of children, singing the good news – it’s called gospel – a place of love not fear.
Emily Dickinson wrote a poem (#1383) that tells of the collapse of the distinction between then and now. It goes like this:
Long Years apart — can make no
Breach a second cannot fill —
The absence of the Witch does not
Invalidate the spell —
The embers of a Thousand Years
Uncovered by the Hand
That fondled them when they were Fire
Will stir and understand —

4 questions

At the seder meal shared at Passover, there is an important role for children. It’s one of the things I have loved about it. Children have a vital role to play. For too long our liturgies suffered from being a kind of “adults only” affair.
One of the crucial roles that children play is by asking what are called the “4 questions.”
Although they are called “The Four Questions,” really this part of the seder is one question with four answers. The central question is: “Why is this night different from all other nights?” source

• On all other nights we eat bread or matzah, while on this night we eat only matzah.
• On all other nights we eat all kinds of vegetables and herbs, but on this night we have to eat bitter herbs.
• On all other nights we don’t dip our vegetables in salt water, but on this night we dip them twice.
• On all other nights we eat while sitting upright, but on this night we eat reclining. (because in ancient times, a person who reclined at a meal was a free person, while slaves and servants stood)

The answer to the question is: this night is different because on this night Moses led us from slavery. For thousands of years rabbis have known that in the telling of the story of deliverance one lives (again) in the time of deliverance. The separation of then and now is erased – if only for a time.
The four questions of the children at the Haggadah are a variation of – why do we do this? What is the point? The rabbis answered that we tell the story because we are present as the Israelites escape from Egypt.
I said last week that we were beginning the essential story for those of us who profess to be Christians. We began the story as Jesus entered in triumph into Jerusalem – and then within the week was executed and buried. We began the story then but we finish the story now.
We don’t tell the story that takes a week to tell because we don’t know how it ends. We tell the story week by week because when we do we are there with Mary Magdalene with Peter and John and Thomas and all the rest. We are there and our lives are why we tell the story.
As the Passover telling of the story breaks down the distinction between past and future, so too does this story that we conclude today. We are there with Mary, confused at the empty tomb. We are Mary as the Lord calls our name. We are commissioned, along with Mary, to go forth to announce the good news.

What is essential and what is incidental?

Over the years, I have tried to understand and to be clear to myself, my answer to the question, “What are the essentials? What is it that I believe in over all else?”
I have it down to a couple of things, but the most important can be expressed in a single phrase. Jesus Christ is risen today.
The essential point however is not the proclamation alone. It is our answer to what does it mean? What is the meaning of Christ is risen today in my life? Today? Here, now.
It has been so since ancient times.
It is the faith that motivates us, drives our getting up in the morning and our falling asleep at night. It is the faith that washes infants in the font of baptism. It is the faith that lays to rest the weary of soul. It is the faith that heals the sick and raises up the downtrodden. Jesus Christ is risen today.
There was a beautiful 90-year-old woman at my church in Indiana. She insisted on sitting in church with the children of the parish. The children had a special section just for them in the front of all the pews. She insisted on sitting there, in her wheel chair, with all the other children. They loved her and she loved them. She had such a deep faith. When she died and took her last breath she had the sweetest most peaceful smile settl on her face. Her obituary listed her as the head of the children’s corner at church.
She had lived with the words of the St Francis prayer. They hung in her living room. “It is only in dying that we are born to eternal life.”
She knew the faith of Mary standing there before the empty tomb. She knew what it meant that Jesus Christ is risen today. She was born into a life of joy. That’s what her smile meant.
Jesus Christ is risen today is truly the good news. Hallelujah.

Notes:

lectionary

Prayer for People Facing Great Uncertainty

God of the present moment,
God who in Jesus stills the storm
and soothes the frantic heart;
bring hope and courage to all
who wait or work in uncertainty.
Bring hope that you will make them the equal
of whatever lies ahead.
Bring them courage to endure what cannot be avoided,
for your will is health and wholeness;
you are God, and we need you.
Taken from A New Zealand Prayer Book—He Karakia Mihinare o Aotearoa’ (adapted)

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1. one source This year, we might get to experience a taste of what that first Easter was like, still in our homes daring to believe that hope is on the horizon. Then, after a while, when it is safe for all people, when it is the most loving choice, we will come out, gathering together, singing and shouting the good news that God brings life even out of death, that love always has the final say! … This year we might get the closest taste we have had yet to what that first Easter was like." – author unknown ↩︎