“Imagine....” -- Revelation 21:1-6, John 13:31-34 -- April 28, 2013

The Book of The Revelation (only one) to John is to most of us UCC-types the stuff of eyeball rolling skepticism and even dismissal.  Of course, for others, it’s the most important book in the Bible, as Tim LeHay’s wildly popular Left Behind series can attest to.  For these folks, the Book of Revelation is a road map and guidebook for these final days of planet earth, and there is a certain amount of smug satisfaction in that they will be taken up in glory while we will be “left behind.”  Already there have been sightings of and speculations about the four horsemen of the apocalypse and just who the Beast and the Anti-Christ are.  I prefer a more agnostic perspective, leaving it up to an infinitely loving and just God to determine where we all are headed.

Still, it would be a shame to give up completely on this book which, despite a good deal of controversy, did make it into our canon (or authorized set of books of the Bible).  After all, it’s only since the 19th century that people began to take the Bible literally, so our ancient ancestors in faith knew that there was more to this book than terrifying beasts and puzzling numbers.  They also had experienced enough blood baths and terror to know that if God is totally uninterested and removed from our struggles and terrors, then we really are in trouble.

The passage which Andrea read for us this morning is one of the real jewels in the book and almost makes slogging through the rest of the book worth it.

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.  And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals.  He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes.  Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’ And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’

As Biblical scholar Eugene Boring writes, “All of Revelation’s statements about ‘the End’ are really statements about God...[John gives] remarkable expression to the Christian conviction that at the End we meet not an event but a Person.” (Boring, Revelation, p. 215) And I would add that we meet not even a Person with a capital “P,” for God is more than a “person.”  As William Sloan Coffin put it in his memoir, “I don’t know what awaits me after death, I only know Who, and that is enough.” (Credo) Along with Coffin, the Book of Revelation affirms that “at the end,...God.”

You know that we’ve been “re-thinking church,” trying to open ourselves up to the possibilities of new forms, new ways of thinking and being and doing “church.”  We’re in the midst of this 500 year rummage sale, as Phyllis Tickle puts it, and we’re not really sure what we should throw out, what we should keep, or really, where we’re headed.  Another way of putting that is, we’re not sure what our “end” is, not so much in the sense of “the end,” “it’s over,” “there ain’t no mo’,” but rather, our end as our goal, where we’re headed, what fulfilling our destiny and purpose might look like.

And of course, the same could be said of any of our lives.  We may wonder, particularly as we begin to accumulate more and more birthdays, where we are headed, what lies ahead, maybe doing some wondering about what happens after we die, though Bill Coffin’s confession that we only know Who awaits us may just have to be enough.

So, for the early church, awaiting the end of the world, because everything was falling apart, for the church today, and for each of our lives, the Book of the Revelation to John holds wisdom for us–“in the end,....God.”

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.  And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband. Again, Eugene Boring writes, “In John’s view, the new Jerusalem is the fulfillment of all human dreams for the community and security of life in an ideal city.” (214)

It is a dream of community.  This is not a vision of individuals holed up in their cells, each one communing one-on-one with God or Jesus, but rather an interdependent community, a city, “the concrete living out of interdependence as the essential nature of human life.” (Boring, 219)   It’s the African notion of ubuntu, as Archbishop Desmond Tutu explains it–“My well-being is wrapped up in your well-being.”

“And the sea was no more,” John notes.  The sea in Biblical usage often signifies chaos, so in this vision there is a deep order or at least harmony here.  “The sea” also separated John from the rest of his community, if, as he says, he is in exile on the island of Patmos.  “The sea was no more” means that all the barriers to human relationship and community will be gone.

“God will wipe every tear from their eyes[John continues]. Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more...”  “All that now robs life from being fulfilled, joyful, vibrant life [Eugene Boring writes] will be absent from the transcendent reality to which [God] is leading history.” (217)    Isn’t that what we long for?  Isn’t that what we fear from death?  Pain and separation from loved ones?  “God will wipe every tear from their eyes, Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more...”  “The sea was no more...”

And not only all that separates us from loved ones will be removed but also all that separates us from God will be no more.  God is not one “item” in this new heaven and new earth, but God is all in all, God is in the midst of humanity.  There is no temple in the New Jerusalem –no church or mosque or shrine either–no place where people go to be in God’s presence because now God’s presence is everywhere.  We are in God and God is in us.  “See, the home of God is among mortals.”  “My Lord, what a morning!”

“I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away.  And I saw the New Jerusalem...”  The voice from the One seated on the throne does not say, “See, I make all new things,” but rather, “See, I make all things new.”  Heaven and earth and we are not obliterated; rather, we are renewed, made new.  Jerusalem was where the story of God’s dealing with humanity took place, and there is continuity.  This is the New Jerusalem.  “We shall not all die,” Paul wrote, “but we shall all be changed.”  Boring writes that this is “a world in which nothing human is lost.  Salvation is beyond but not without this world.” (221).  This world, right now, in the present moment, is where “salvation” begins. The new heaven and new earth are coming and already are in our midst.  This is not a world-abandoning vision.  We are called to “love one another, as Jesus loved us,” right now.  The New Jerusalem comes out of heaven from God, but that does not mean we can give up all our responsibility.  “The present moment is the decisive one,” calling us–commanding us–to “love one another.”

And despite the desire of some to be part of the exclusive club, this is an inclusive vision.  They will be my peoples, God says.  The vision of the New Jerusalem that the writer sets out does have gates to the city, so there are those outside the walls, but the gates are always open. The choice is always ours–to come in, or to stay out.

And then, there is the image of the city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  This is a vision of beauty.  I love Robin Meyers’ working definition of beauty as “the effortless manifestation of inner peace.”  (The Underground Church).  I wish I’d known that as an adolescent girl, holding Seventeen magazine in one hand and looking into the mirror.  That was a very different image of “beauty.”

Eugene Boring sums up John’s vision this way–“If this is where the world, under the sovereign grace of God, is finally going, then every thought, move, deed in some other direction is out of step with reality and is finally wasted.”  (224) If God’s intention, God’s dream, for the world, for the church, for each of us, is community, deep harmony, interdependence, beauty, inclusion, communion, if that is, indeed, the ultimate Reality, then all other thoughts, moves, deeds are a waste of time.

So perhaps some questions might guide our thinking and acting and dreaming in the days and weeks and months, even years, ahead.
–How and where are you, are we, most likely to encounter God, right now and in the future?
–What in my life, what in our church’s life, is no longer vibrant and alive and could be turned over to God for renewal?
–What in my life, what in our church’s life, is full of greenness and potential and might be brought to blossom and bear fruit in God’s dream for me, for us?
–Who have I–we–thought we were separated from, and how might we be re-connected through God?
–What might I–we–do to find the deep harmony and inner peace that manifests itself in beauty? –How would I live my life if I knew that nothing, ultimately, would be able to separate me from God?   How would that translate into the life of our church?
Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth; for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and the sea was no more.  And I saw the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride adorned for her husband.  And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, ‘See, the home of God is among mortals.  He will dwell with them as their God; they will be his peoples, and God himself will be with them; he will wipe every tear from their eyes.  Death will be no more; mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.’ And the one who was seated on the throne said, ‘See, I am making all things new.’
This is good news!  Amen.                                                  — Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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“You are my beloved” April 14, 2013

"You are my beloved"–What the church might learn from Positive Psychology

Final Project for the Certificate in Positive Psychology by Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

Imagine a place where, no matter where you’ve been or what you’ve done, no matter how old or young or inbetween, you are welcome and reminded that you are a beloved child of God, precious in God’s sight. – That is my dream for Second Congregational Church, and I believe that insights and practices from Positive Psychology could help us become more of such a place.

The field of Positive Psychology is a relatively new–or newly revived–discipline within the wider field of psychology. Rather than focusing only on mental illness and dysfunction, what happens when things go wrong, Positive Psychology focuses on what helps human beings flourish, what contributes to well-being, what "works." It asks questions like, Why do some kids succeed and flourish in incredibly challenging environments and situations? not just, why do so many others fail? How could my day go 5% better? What gives life meaning? How can I be happier–not "happy" all the time, but generally experience a higher level of well-being? What makes some people more resilient, able to weather the real crises and challenges of life? What difference could all of this make to our experience of community and relationships, in our families and most intimate relationships, in our communities, in our world?

Just as Paul writes in Galatians about the fruit of the Spirit as "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control" (5:22), so Positive Psychology researches and helps us to develop gratitude, grace, joy, kindness, health, courage, vulnerability, discipline, ritual, relationships, service, connection, healing. Indeed, the vocabulary of Positive Psychology may very well communicate the concept of "abundant life" which Jesus said he came to bring, as well if not better than the traditional language of the church, which is no longer the native tongue of growing numbers of people in our culture.

So perhaps one entry point–to pick just one-- for discovering where Positive Psychology might be infused into the church is where we enter into the Christian community. Baptism is the initiation rite into that community of people who seek to follow in the Way of Jesus. It’s an experience that we share with Jesus who, as tradition tells us, was also baptized. The story in Mark’s gospel says,

In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan. And just as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, "You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased."

(Mark 1: 9-11)

For Christians, baptism is our reminder that we are beloved sons and daughters of God. Just as Jesus was marked but still had to affirm and live out his identity as the beloved Child of God, so do we all need to claim and live out our identity as beloved children of God.

Listen to this baptism story from Preaching Professor Heather Murray Elkins, who tells of

a young man on a clergy retreat she was leading.

As a part of the retreat, Elkins had asked the pastors to spend some time to find their story, and their name, in scripture. On the last day of the retreat, the pastors gathered in a circle, with a chair in the middle. Then, one by one, they took their turn to sit in the chair in the middle of the circle, and told the story they had found, and the name they had found, and how they knew it was theirs.

The final gathering was going well, and the preachers were telling profound and moving stories. And then, one young man took his place in the center. But he just sat there, and said nothing. And at first, the others waited, but still, the young man said nothing. Then folks began to get a little nervous and a little fidgety. Some were looking at their watches. Finally, Elkins said to the young man, "Is there something you would like to share with us?"

"I spent all three days looking through the bible," he said. "And I saw many names there that I wanted to have. I read many stories that I wanted to claim. But none of the names were strong enough to overcome the name I already have. My father gave me this name when I was very little. And there was nothing I found in these last three days that is strong enough to change that name."

Then the man fell silent again.

So Elkins waited a bit, and then asked, "Would you be willing to share your name with us?"

And the young pastor answered, "My name, that my father gave me when I was very small, is ‘Not good enough.’" And the man put his head in his hands and began to sob. It was as if he was drowning there before them. And there they were, a room full of life guards, and no one knew what to do.

But then, as if the Holy Spirit was descending like a dove right there in that room, one by one the others rose and went to the man. Then a few others rose, and then more. They surrounded him, and they laid their hands on him, and in one voice they said, "You are my beloved son. In you I am well pleased."

Elkins says that at the end of the retreat, she saw the young pastor packing up his car and she just had to go over to him and ask him, "Do you think what happened in that circle will make a difference?"

"I don’t know," he said. "But it does feel that something inside me that was broken somehow isn’t broken anymore. And I do know this. From now on, every time I hold a baby, and dip my hand into the water to name that child before the congregation, I will remember this moment, and I will remember who I am." (Grateful to the Rev. Catherine Foote, University Congregational UCC, Seattle, WA, for transcribing story told by HME, Living the Questions...)

This is the "What" of the intersection of Positive Psychology and the church. What and Who are we really? "Know thyself" say all the sages from Aristotle to Buddha to Jesus. ("Love your neighbor as you love yourself.") "Not good enough." How many of us have been given that name, or claimed it as our own? "Not good enough." Is that your name? Not pretty enough, not thin enough, not successful enough, not smart enough; your house isn’t clean enough, your golf score not low enough....not good enough? If I asked you for a list of your faults, could you stop at one or two, or do we not have time for the whole list? We all know people, like the young pastor’s father, who are always finding fault, who focus on what’s wrong, what’s not quite right, the glass that is half empty. Fault-finders. The church has a reputation for being full of them. Finger-waggers. Sin-seekers.

Perfectionism has its own deadly self-reinforcing feedback loop–no matter how hard we strive to be perfect, we inevitably fail or fall short of the ideal, which then makes us think that if we had just tried harder, we would have made it; so we continue to drive ourselves, and continue to fail...because we are human. "Permission to be human" is a theme of Positive Psychology. What if instead of perfectionists, we became Optimalists–doing our best at any moment, taking into consideration all we’ve got available to us at the time, our human limitations, the circumstances? What if we saw failure not as a catastrophe but as an opportunity to learn?

Not good enough. Shame says we’re not good enough, we’re not worthy of connection, which, actually, is "why we’re here." (B. Brown) Sociologist and Pos. Psychologist Brene Brown found in her research that those who feel that they are worthy of connection have more resilience to shame. What if the church taught shame resilience instead of just shame? A sense of worthiness despite our vulnerability? A sense of belovedness, of unconditional acceptance?

This, of course, does not mean that whatever we do or say is ok. Our children–and we-- need to be taught what is acceptable behavior and what isn’t, that what we do actually does affect other people, and that we value our God-given connection with all other people and creatures. There are things for which a sense of guilt is not only necessary but helpful. We need to be able to recognize when we have betrayed our true selves, when we have hurt others, when we have failed to act when our actions or words might have helped another. We need to be able to say we’re sorry and make amends when that happens.

The kingdom of God that Jesus spoke about has not fully arrived. There is evil and there is injustice and an infinite number of ways that we wander from our best selves and end up doing things we regret or that harm ourselves or others. And yet we know from research that those who focus on the full half of the glass, who identify and build on their strengths instead of focusing on their weaknesses, who look upon failure as an opportunity to grow and learn, who are "Benefit finders" instead of "Fault finders"–we know that these people experience more well-being, are physically healthier, and in fact, contribute more to the well-being of others. When we appreciate the good, the good appreciates, i.e. it grows.

"You are my beloved child, in whom I am well pleased," rather than, "Not good enough." Imagine if we in the church help people discover their true name, instead of adding to the shame and sense of failure.

Another baptism story–this one from Janet Wolf, a United Methodist pastor who used to serve the Hobson United Methodist Church in Nashville, TN.

Years ago, a woman named Fayette found her way to Hobson. Fayette lived with mental illness and lupus and without a home. She joined the new member class. The conversation about baptism–‘This holy moment when we are named by God’s grace with such power it won’t come undone,’ as Janet puts it–especially grabbed Fayette’s imagination. Janet tells of how, during the class, Fayette would ask again and again, ‘And when I’m baptized, I am...?’ ‘The class,’ Janet writes, ‘learned to respond, ‘Beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold.’ "Oh, yes!’ she’d say, and then we could go back to our discussion.

The day of Fayette’s baptism came. This is how Janet describes it:

Fayette went under, came up spluttering, and cried, ‘And now I am...?’ And we all sang, ‘Beloved, precious child of God, and beautiful to behold.’ ‘Oh, yes!’ she shouted as she danced all around the fellowship hall.

Two months later, Janet received a phone call. Fayette had been beaten and raped and was at the county hospital. So I went [Janet says]. I could see her from a distance, pacing back and forth. When I got to the door, I heard, ‘I am beloved....’ She turned, saw me, and said, "I am beloved, precious child of God, and....’ Catching sight of herself in the mirror–hair sticking up, blood and tears streaking her face, dress torn, dirty, and rebuttoned askew, she started again, ‘I am beloved, precious child of God, and...’ She looked in the mirror again and declared, ‘....and God is still working on me. If you come back tomorrow, I’ll be so beautiful I’ll take your breath away!’

(Janet Wolf’s story is from The Upper Room Disciplines 1999[Nashville: The Upper Room] and cited by Jan Richardson in her blog, paintedprayerbook.com, Dec. 31, 2009)

This, in a sense, is the "how" that Positive Psychology can help us with. Being positive doesn’t mean bad or negative things don’t happen. Being a beloved child of God doesn’t mean you won’t get beat up or sick or crucified. We’ve been through enough funerals together, been driven to our knees over tragedies that left us feeling helpless and hopeless. Positive psychology does not tell us, "Don’t worry. Be Happy." It is important to be as present to the negative emotions and experiences as we are to the positive, for, in fact, fully experiencing the negative emotions allows us also to experience the positive emotions more fully-- The "happy" life is not "happy" all the time. The only people who don’t experience negative emotions, our professor reminds us, are the sociopaths and the dead.

The more present and mindful we can be in our negative experiences–to allow grief, or anger or sadness or frustration to be real, the more likely we will be able to return to a sense of well-being, to see the negative as temporary–"This too shall pass." "If you come back tomorrow," Fayette said, "I’ll be so beautiful I’ll take your breath away....God is still working on me."

To be able to return to that core identity, that seed of greatness, even in the midst of turmoil and tragedy, is such a gift–and such a skill. Over and over, every day. We can create daily rituals that remind us who we are and Whose we are. As you know, I actually do say this baptismal affirmation everyday–"I too am beloved, a precious child of God, beautiful to behold, and [I add] I serve the God of Love and Light." And daily rituals that include mindful breathing, some kind of physical movement, some kind of intentional affirmation of our core identity can literally begin to re-wire our brains, no matter how old we are.

A third and final baptism story is not really a baptism story per se, but it is related and comes from the great preaching professor Fred Craddock.

Fred and his wife had stopped to eat in a little restaurant in the Smokey Mountains. Now, Fred is a quiet, unassuming man, but is not an unknown figure in that part of the country

. An elderly gentleman came over to the Craddocks’ table and introduced himself. [His name vaguely rang a bell.] He said that his mom was not married when she had given birth to him, and the community directed shame toward her and her child. He often ate alone at school; he sat alone at church, which for some reason he felt drawn to, but he always left early. One day, as he was trying to slip out, he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to find the minister looking down at him. "He looked closely at my face," the gentleman said, "and I knew he was trying to figure out whose features I shared. I knew he was trying to guess who my father was." "Well, boy," the minister said, "you are a child of...." and then he paused. When he spoke again, he said, "Boy, you are a child of God. I see a striking resemblance." Then he swatted me on the bottom and said, "Now you go on and claim your inheritance."

I left church that day a different person," the now-elderly man said. "In fact, that was the beginning of my life."

Fred Craddock said that when he told his dad this story, his father recalled that the two-term governor of Tennessee

[that’s who the gentleman was] had been born to an unwed mother. (Told by Joanna Adams, Day1.org., 1/10/10)

This is the "So what?" The man who eventually became the governor of Tennessee was reminded of his true self and it changed his life. And not only did it change his life, it also changed the lives of countless other citizens of Tennessee. Tending to the seed of greatness planted within us has endless ripple effects out into our family, our community, the world. When we know that we are worthy of connection, when we recognize that not only we, but every other person, is a beloved child of God, then we will engage in acts to advocate for justice and alleviate suffering. That’s part of who we are.

So, imagine our church–this place and this community-- where those seeds of greatness, that spark of divinity and true humanity, are tended to in a garden of care, accountability, challenge, nurture, joy, celebration, shared sorrow and struggle, and in acts of justice and compassion; where all around you are reminders of your true identity– Reminders of who we are and Whose we are, to post on our doorways, wear around our necks and wrists, to write upon our hearts, even, to tattoo on the palms of our hands.

Jesus wasn’t the only or first to be named and claimed and loved by God. The prophet Isaiah, in the midst of exile in the 6^th century BCE, sent a love letter from God to the people of Israel. The love letter is to us as well.—[If you’d like to see the video I showed here, go to saltproject.org, and to their video section where you’ll find Tattooed.]

What a privilege and joy my immersion in Positive Psychology has been, not only taking me into new places and learning new skills, but also helping me to go deeper into the well of living water that the Way of Jesus has offered me. I’ve made a list of some of my imaginings of how positive psychology might help us to transform lives, which I invite you to pick up on the way out and see what you think. I am so grateful for your support and your companionship on this amazing journey into life in all its fullness. Let the journey continue!

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"On the Road Again"-- Luke 24:13-35-- April 7, 2013

So, Christ is risen. Now what? "He’s gone on ahead of you to Galilee, where you will see him," the men in dazzling white told the visitors to the empty tomb. All the post-resurrection stories are different. They did see him there in Galilee, –on the lakeshore, barbequing fish. And we know the story of the disciples who’d locked themselves in that upper room, when Jesus suddenly appeared in the their midst and breathed the Holy Spirit on them. And then he came back when Thomas was with them, and offered Thomas his hands and his side with their gaping wounds, so that he could get over his obsession with not seeing Jesus and get on with living in the Way of Jesus.

And then this story that we read this morning about what happened on the road to Emmaus–the two disciples, one named, the other not, walking home after the horrible events in Jerusalem and the unlikely tale of the women; and then the stranger coming up behind them, asking what was going on, and his walking them through the scriptures which indicated that the Messiah must suffer before entering into glory. Who was this man? And then their arriving home, and pressing the stranger to stay with them for supper and the night. It was then–when he took and broke the bread and gave it to them–that their eyes were opened, and they recognized Jesus. And he was gone.

John Dominic Crossan says that this story is the story of what happened to Jesus’ followers after his death, somewhere in the early 30's, until the time that Paul noticed them and had his own encounter with the risen Christ, somewhere in the 50's. This story of what happened on the road to Emmaus, and especially what happened when they sat around the table at the end of that journey, is a summary of how the message and movement of Jesus was spread in the early years after Jesus’ death.

Jesus had sent them out before, two by two. Remember that? Take nothing with you, he’d told them, and if someone invites you in, go in and eat there. If they don’t accept you, wipe the dust off your feet, and move on. And when all the pairs came back, they told Jesus about all the things they’d been able to do. "You’ll do all that I’ve done and more," Jesus had said to them.

So here in this Emmaus story, are two disciples traveling together, one named Clopas, so obviously a male, and the other one unnamed, quite possibly female, as that is often how the early Jesus followers traveled. They are talking about Jesus, still trying to figure out the meaning of his death and the strange tales of his resurrection. When they study the scriptures, they get a sense that Jesus is part of the meaning and movement of God’s intentions, but it’s not perfectly clear. It is only when they invite the stranger in to their homes, offer shelter and food, that they recognize the Risen Christ in their midst. And note, they invite him, he doesn’t invite them.

"When he was at table with them, he took the bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. And their eyes were opened." Bread that is blessed and broken is shared bread. Wine that is poured into a cup and given is shared wine. Shared meals were at the heart of what Jesus was about, not just because all sorts of people ate together, which they did–tax collectors, prostitutes, "sinners"–but because anyone could come and have something to eat.

The Roman occupation had increasingly wrung dry any and all resources for the poor to rely upon. In fact, many of the poor were absolutely destitute, having next to nothing to feed their families. Many existed on the edge of starvation. Those who have been truly hungry, hungry with no idea when they will ever eat again, are marked by that experience. So the meals that Jesus and his movement centered around were not just symbolic meals, with a piece of bread and a sip of wine; these were actual meals, potlucks really, where everyone brought whatever it was they had to share, or themselves, if they had nothing, and then everyone had enough to eat. Enough to eat and a place in the community. That was Jesus’ definition of Justice, and God was above all, a God of justice.

It was not uncommon in the ancient world to hear stories of visions of dead men raised. That Jesus’ followers said they had seen him resurrected would have been received by others as interesting but not unheard of. It was the content of their vision that was intriguing. You mean, when you take in strangers, when you sit down and share bread and wine together in his memory, that’s when he appears? You mean, I could come and join in such a meal? I would be fed? That’s right. Come and see. We gather around 10 and eat around 11 or 11:15 on Sunday mornings. We gather at 5 on Sunday afternoons.

Our Sunday Socials. Sunday Suppers. Dinners for 8 or 80. We may each experience the Risen Christ in many different ways, but he promised that wherever two or three were gathered in his name, there he’d be in the midst of them. When bread is taken, blessed, and broken, the Risen Christ is present. When the wine is blessed and poured out and the cup is shared, the Risen Christ is present.

"Resurrected life and risen vision," Dom Crossan says, "appear as offered shelter and shared meal. Resurrection is not enough. You still need scripture and eucharist, tradition and table, community and justice; otherwise, divine presence remains unrecognized and human eyes remain unopened.... "Emmaus never happened," he writes. "Emmaus always happens." [Crossan, The Birth of Christianity, p. xi We are still on the road to Emmaus. And look, here is bread and drink for the journey. Let us share it with one another and the Risen Christ. Amen and amen.

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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"Why are you looking for the living among the dead?"-- Luke 24:1-12 Easter 2013

Jesus had told them it would happen this way. "The Son of Humanity must undergo great suffering, [he’d said] and be rejected by the elders, chief priests, and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised." Actually, as they remembered it later, he had told them that a number of times. It’s just that they usually zoned out at the word "killed." How could that be possible? Trauma has a way of erasing memory and hope. They never really heard him say, "and on the third day be raised."

So when they went into the tomb and didn’t find his body, and when the two men in dazzling white appeared and asked them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here but has risen"–the women didn’t say to each other, "I knew it! Just like he said!" And when they ran back to tell the eleven and all the rest what had happened, they didn’t believe it either. In fact, they thought the women were crazy. "It seemed to them an idle tale"–"idle" is a tame, polite way of translating, "crazy," "delerious," "out of the their minds."

But really, as one writer says, "If you don’t find resurrection at least a little hard to believe, you probably aren’t taking it very seriously!" (David Lose, workingpreacher.com) This was an entirely new reality, not just the resuscitation of a dead body. And, as someone else has written, "If the dead don’t stay dead, what can you count on?" (Florence Carter, cited by Lose) So, let’s not be too blase about this resurrection stuff–"Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!" we say, as though of course we know what that means, of course Jesus rose from the dead, of course... Indeed! You might want to tone down that certainty, just a smidge. On the other hand, if you don’t buy it at all, if you’re certain that it’s "an idle tale," you might want to leave just a crack open for possibility. It’s ok to have faith wrapped up with doubt and skepticism. In fact, it’s probably a good thing. Brene Brown says that "Faith minus vulnerability and mystery equals extremism." (Interview on OWN, 3/24/13)

Now, a very good case could be made that we live in a Good Friday world, not an Easter world, so the Easter story may indeed seem like no more than an "idle tale." Death and the Powers and Principalities seem to be in charge–the innocent are gunned down in schools and movie theaters and city blocks, blown up along roadsides and minefields, discarded with plant closings and downsizings, millions are hungry and homeless and hopeless. It wasn’t so different in Jesus’ time. How do we tell the Easter story in a Good Friday world?

Unlike our day, when reporters and TV cameras would be relied on to explain things, these early followers of Jesus turned to story. Anne Howard says that in trying to find words for Easter in a Good Friday world, the "first storytellers told the story of that empty tomb. They talked about being afraid and looking into that dark place and seeing light. They talked about not seeing Jesus in that tomb and about learning that he was already running ahead of them, out in Galilee...They found Easter when they dared talk about Jesus’ alternative way, when they carried out his practices, of sharing what they had, welcoming the stranger, caring for the least among them." (A Word in Time, 3/31/13)

Other storytellers use different images. The power of life over death was "deeper magic from before the dawn of time," C.S. Lewis wrote in the Narnia tales. "It was so new that the evil powers knew nothing about it....When [the great lion] Aslan rises, he cracks the altar stone and it crumbles into pieces so that it could never be used again, ending all bloodshed."

Still others describe resurrection – all resurrections – as "bursts of divine energy."

I believe Jesus’ resurrection is part of a deeper energetic and synergetic divine presence, [writes one pastor] missed because [it’s everywhere, all the time]. God resurrects each dying moment and moves to heal each past trauma in a world where pain, tragedy, conflict, and death are all too real. I believe that Jesus’ resurrection revealed a deeper law of nature, a greater influx of energy, [like] the energies of the universe that brought forth the ‘big bang’ and the birth of galaxies and planets. Surely, it was a quantum leap–this energy of life and love–gathering up the powers residing already in Jesus’ healing touch and words.."natural," but not tame, disorienting, transformative.

(Bruce Epperly, Adventurous Lectionary, 3/31/13)

Former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams says of Easter, "We are really standing in the middle of a second "Big Bang," a tumultuous surge of divine energy as fiery and intense as the very beginning of the universe." (Cited by Dan Clendenin, journeyswithjesus.net, 3/31/13)

The proof of the resurrection, however, does not lie in the past, but in the present. It’s all too common for the church to say, as the rock musician Sting puts it in one of his songs, "It’s just too hard thinking about the future, so let’s just get on with the past." ("Forget About the Future," on Sacred Love) "If the tomb wasn’t empty, if there was no bodily resurrection, the whole thing falls apart..." "If archaeologists find the bones, Christianity is done for." What actually happened back then? We’re looking for the living among the dead.

As my brother Bob used to say, "The proof of the resurrection does not lie in the past, but in the present. It’s also not just waiting for us in the future." (Bob Lee, The Carpenter’s Apprentice) The proof happens everyday. It’s all around us, if we have eyes to see and ears to hear. Like the first storytellers who found the Risen Christ when they talked about Jesus’ alternative way and carried out his practices, so is Christ Risen in our Sunday Suppers and the Free Clinic and Kitchen Cupboard. So is Christ Risen in lives restored to health and hope after being written off as "hopeless." So is Christ Risen in teams of volunteers cleaning up trashed city lots, planting trees, even gardens, that then feed the neighborhood with fresh fruits and vegetables. So is Christ Risen when those who have suffered great loss find new life in helping others who have suddenly found themselves in that same condition. So is Christ Risen when in the depths of shame and humiliation, we see a hand extended to us in solidarity and strength. Seeing may be believing, but to "believe in" resurrection, to have that truth at the core of one’s life is to see resurrection all around us.

Which isn’t to say that resurrection is "business as usual." Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Ho hum. It is to say that at any moment, we should be prepared to be caught off guard by resurrection, disoriented, stopped in our tracks. In fact, one writer says, "Today we need to be disoriented and deconstructed to let resurrection break through. We need to open our eyes to God’s bursts of energy locally and globally, intimately and universally at work in our world, and we need to get on board, with resurrection life, practicing resurrection by awakening to it and opening our eyes to wonders of new life." (Bruce Epperly, op cit.)

In a weary, spent world (Brueggemann), weighed down by Good Friday expectations, the Easter story reveals the world-and-life-changing-deconstructing- recreating energy that is always and everywhere at work. Nothing is safe, but everything, ultimately, will be well. The deeper magic before time, the fiery, intense energy that set off the Big Bang, the luminous surge of power that pulses through all our veins, even after our hearts have stopped beating, the music that sings deeper than our hearing and beautiful beyond words, the Holy One whom death could not contain, is loose in the world. Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed!

Rev. Mary H. Lee-Clark

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