The Rev. Josh Shipman
Easter Sunday, Year C, 2016
John 20:1-8
The scene was chaotic.
“People were crying,
shouting, children.
It was a horrible experience…
This feels like war—fire engines,
police everywhere,”
said one man.
“Everything was broken…
We were crying, shouting,
running we didn’t know where,”
a woman reported.
Another man said he could,
“smell smoke and see glass…
Then I came outside of the airport
on the parking lot
and there I saw people
with head wounds,
people crying,
more blood on the road
and glass everywhere…
There was a lot of panic,
with people running around.
Policeman, military everywhere.
There were ambulances going around.
People seemed really shocked…
Everyone seems very shocked
and very sad.”[1]
(pause)
This is the opposite of an Easter story.
On Tuesday in Holy Week—
Holy Tuesday—
a gravely disordered
religious ritual
took place.
Two bombs exploded
in a busy airport terminal.
Later, another bomb exploded
at a busy metro station.
Many people were killed.
Many more people were injured.
Now, I am not a political-scientist,
a politician,
a sociologist,
or a psychologist.
I’m not even, technically speaking,
a theologian.
I’m a priest.
A pastor.
I can’t even wrap my mind
around all of the complexities
that would lead someone
to commit grave sins
against humanity—
spreading fear
and darkness.
I can just say
that there is great darkness
in the world—
highlighted by tragedies
such as the attacks in Brussels.
It seems, sometimes,
that this darkness
overtakes the light.
Sometimes.
(pause)
The Venerable Colin Williams,
archdeacon of the Diocese in Europe
of the Anglican Church was headed
to the pro-cathedral’s Chrism Mass—
that’s a Holy Eucharist
where the Bishop blesses
oils for anointing and for baptism—
and clergy renew their ordination vows.
Archdeacon Williams says,
“Just as I arrived in Brussels
the city closed around me
and a bomb exploded in the Metro…
I made my way on foot
to the pro-Cathedral…
Sirens sounded
and helicopters hovered overhead.
Going ahead with the service
felt like an act of defiance;
and as the Eucharist began
we lit candles
to show again that the Light
has come into the world
and the darkness cannot
overcome it.”[2]
A few days later,
the Bishop of the Diocese of Europe
issued his Easter letter, writing:
“As the week has gone on,
I have been overwhelmed
by the countless expressions
of prayerful support
from throughout the Diocese,
not only for those of us
who work here at my office
but for the people of Brussels
and Belgium in general.
It has been a real sign of solidarity
across the Diocese and communion
within the Body of Christ
which, in this week of all weeks,
has made the journey towards the Cross
and the empty tomb all the more meaningful…
I wish you all a blessed
celebration of Easter
when it comes and pray that,
despite the turbulent events of this week,
we can all proclaim,
in the words of Saint Augustine,
that ‘We are the Easter people
and Alleluia is our song’.”[3]
(pause)
We are an Easter people,
so what do we make
of the darkness around us?
(pause)
It was still dark
when she came to the tomb.
Who knows what dangers
she faced,
a woman walking alone
at night—
in a turbulent environment.
But she was determined
to mourn her beloved teacher.
What she sees, though,
shocks and upsets her.
Somebody has stolen the body,
she thinks.
By the time she
and the other disciples return
there is enough light
to see the gently folded
grave clothes.
In addition to the plays
on light and darkness
in John’s Gospel,
there are the important themes
of seeing and believing.
We’ll visit with Doubting Thomas,
or as I like to call him
Empirical Evidence Thomas
next week.
For today, our Easter passage,
has plenty of instances of
seeing and believing.
“Mary sees the stone rolled away from the tomb.
She believes that ‘they have taken the lord’.
The two disciples see the cloths lying in the tomb.
The beloved disciple sees and believes.
Peter apparently doesn’t believe.
Mary sees two angels in the tomb.
She still believes that someone has taken the body.
Mary sees Jesus.
She believes she is seeing the gardener.”[4]
Jesus calls her.
She believes.
One author surmises,
“So it is with us today.
Our belief in the resurrection
doesn’t come from what we see,
but from what we hear.
What we see, may not necessarily
lead to a correct belief about Jesus.
Mary illustrates
an emphasis in the gospel of John—
correct faith comes from hearing, not seeing.”[5]
Another writer has this to say
on the subject of our Easter Hope:
“Faith enables us
to move beyond believing
only what we can see
to entrusting our lives
to the God who raised
Jesus Christ from the dead.
It is a different path,
a whole new way of life,
that sees the possibility of new life
in every death,
sees the light shining
in the deepest darkness,
and sees hope
in the midst of despair…
It takes something of a leap
for all of us to really entrust
our lives to the kind of hope
that God awakened
in the resurrection of Jesus
on that first Easter morning…
But that is how we open ourselves
to the new life God brings.
The leap is frightening,
but when we make that leap,
we find ourselves moving
from a life that we have to manage
and control
into the arms of the God
who continually offers us grace
and peace
and mercy
and love
and life.”[6]
(pause)
All of this happened
many Easters ago.
The world is probably
no more scary
than it was back then—
it’s just that we have the
unfortunate benefit
of 24 hour news sources.
Even as I was writing
this sermon,
something came across
my Facebook feed
about another terrorist attack,
this one in Nigeria.
This one on Good Friday.
We can’t always see
the mysterious workings of God
in the world,
but they are there.
As in Brussels,
the Easter people
will rise up.
It begins with a single candle
dispelling a circle of darkness,
and then another one is added,
and another,
until the darkness
is overcome.
Before the light, though,
there is a call.
This Easter Day
and in the great 50 days of Eastertide
that follow,
and in all the days that follow that,
listen for the still, small voice of Jesus
calling you,
all of you,
to hear,
to believe,
to be the light
that dispels all the darkness
in the world.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
1
[1] Yahoo News “Witnesses describe blood, dust chaos in Brussels attacks” Associated Press. March 22, 2016.
[2]
[3]
[4]
[5] Ibid.
[6]