Monday, April 6, 2020

Looking into the lectionary - Easter Sunday

There is a refrain to this Easter story, a repeated combination of events and instructions as the women venture to Jesus' tomb that first day of the week. 

Outlook editor Jill Duffield brings lectionary reflections to your inbox every Monday afternoon
The angel tells them: Do not be afraid, come and see, go and tell. They take the angel's words to heart and depart in a combination of fear and great joy, heading to Galilee to tell the disciples the news of the empty tomb and Jesus' return. And just when it could not get any better, it gets exponentially better. They encounter their risen Lord. He greets them with the word, "Rejoice!" They see him and worship. He says, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell." 

Come and see, set aside your fear, go and tell others that Jesus is alive and coming to a town near you. This is the Easter mandate not only for Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, but for all of us given a glimpse of the empty tomb and an unmistakable encounter with our risen Lord. See. Do not be afraid. Go. Tell.

Perhaps more than ever we need in this hurting world to hear the angel's and Jesus' admonishment to not be afraid. We need to know that our worst fears have been replaced with more than our greatest hopes could ever imagine. See, death did not have the last word. Evil did not prevail. Suffering did not endure forever. All you thought irreversible or inevitable, God upended. Every assumption about all the horror you witnessed, God countered with irrefutable, life-giving action. See, the tomb is empty. Rejoice! Jesus lives. Do not be afraid. See and know that God's promises came to fruition. God's Word is trustworthy. Remember what Jesus told you. Go to Galilee and tell others what you now know. 

Do not be afraid. Look at what God has done. Go and tell others about it. Could we, like Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, take these words to heart and in joy and fear, enact them in our towns and cities, our communities and congregations? 

Right now, there is so much to fear: Our economic situations, both personal and global. The health of the vulnerable in our households and on our streets. The state of our hospitals and the stress on our healthcare workers. The many unknowns of this virus and what it will force us to endure. Like Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, suffering and death, the pain of those we hold most dear, is all we can think about. We see the headlines. We know the names and faces and families of those impacted. We grieve the loss of normalcy, of ritual, human company, social gatherings, in-person worship - the lack of a simple hug. We lament not being able to have weddings and hold funerals. We mourn all that has been sacrificed to this pandemic. We make grim pilgrimages to graveyards, both literal and metaphorical, and we are afraid of what might be lurking in the days yet to come. 

If ever we need to hear "Do not be afraid," it is now. Can we take the angel and the Son of Man at their word? For just a breath, a beat, a moment? Can we let the possibility of joy mingle with our palpable sorrow long enough to see that the stone has been rolled away and the tomb is in fact vacant? Can we see that the body we came to tend is instead alive, right in front of us telling us to rejoice? Even as we reel from the violence and terror, the suffering and the death we experienced, can we recognize our Risen Lord among us and worship?

Easter is here. Jesus Christ is risen. The stay-at-home orders persist. The virus still spreads. The death toll goes up and up. There is no denying that our minds still dwell in the depths of Holy Saturday despair - and yet, the grave could not contain our Lord and Savior. When Jesus said, "It is finished," his work of salvation and redemption was complete. But his story - and ours - was far from over. 

If, in the middle of the graveyards of our homes, hearts and world, you have seen a stoned rolled away, a tomb unoccupied by our Lord, an angel in white, an evil power struck terrified and impotent, then set aside your fear, and for the love of God, go and tell those desperate to hear some good news. If, when you most expected death, instead you heard the unmistakable voice of life, for the love of God, do not be afraid to go and tell those who are certain that all they hoped for had ended. If, in your nascent belief and your mixture of terror and ecstasy, you ran headlong into the Risen Jesus, fall down and worship and then get up and go, tell the world that death does not get to set the terms of God's will; evil will not triumph when resurrection is on the lose; and life, eternal and abundant, cannot be held at bay, because Jesus came not to condemn, but to save. 

This is a hard Easter. I will miss the swell of organs, the boisterousness of the brass instruments, the quiet simplicity of sunrise services and the rambunctiousness of children who've had too much sugar to sit still in church. I will not be with my extended family all dressed up for brunch, nor will I help the littlest ones of the congregation find some hidden eggs before the bigger ones scoop up all the chocolate. For far too many in our circles, this Easter will be even harder as they grieve the death of those closest to them or fight for their lives on a ventilator. This is a hard Easter, for people working in our hospitals, for leaders attempting to make wise decisions that impact others, for front line workers taking big risks for not much pay. This is an Easter when we know the sorrow and despondency of those women who went to the tomb that day because they had nowhere else to go and nothing else they could do. 

This is an Easter when we need desperately to hear from heavenly messengers and the risen Christ: Do not be afraid. Jesus is risen. Jesus is here. He knows what it is to suffer and he will not let us be alone in our pain. The tomb is empty. The victory won, even in Galilee where there are sick still in need of healing, and those who are oppressed yearning for justice, and captives not yet free. Remember. Jesus says, remember. Remember what you've been told and taught. Remember what you have seen and experienced. Remember that all the worst you thought you knew got upended, overturned, by the One who promised to be with you always, to the end of the age, the One who promised the peace that passes understanding, the One who tells us: Go and tell. Go and tell all those yet to hear the good news that Jesus is risen and resurrection cannot be stopped, by anything. 

This week:
  1. Of what are you most afraid this week? Can you set aside those fears and worship for even just a moment?
  2. What do you remember of Jesus' teachings? How can what you remember of Jesus' words help you in this season?
  3. Where do you see resurrection hope, even in the midst of the graveyard?
  4. Who is Jesus sending you to share the good news with this week? 
  5. What will you miss this Easter? How can you celebrate this Sunday wherever and however you are this Easter Sunday?
  6. What to do you want to be sure and remember from this unique Lent, Holy Week and Easter? 

 

Virtual General Assembly: How should the PC(USA) do this?

Facing intense deadline pressure, the Committee on the Office of the General Assembly (COGA) is continuing trying to figure that out - considering both the possibility of a shortened assembly (maybe two days) that would deal with essential business only, and the idea of a full virtual assembly stretched out for a month, from June 19 to July 18.


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