First United Methodist Church, Birmingham, Michigan
Easter Sunday, April 12, 1998
Scriptures: Mark 16:1-8, Ephesians 4:17-24
Somewhere on God’s green earth lives a lady named Runa Ware, who has written a book entitled All Those in Favor, Say Something. I have not read her book, but Kline Roberts has. And he has shared with me this little slice of her story. She begins:
I once gave detailed instructions on making a crab casserole to a friend who had often praised the dish when enjoying it in my home. Not long afterward, at a luncheon in her home, she greeted me enthusiastically. “Runa, guess what? I’m serving your gorgeous casserole today.”
As we entered the dining room, however, she confided that she had made a few small changes. Feeling that fresh crab meat had been grossly overpriced, she had substituted canned tuna fish. Campbell’s mushroom soup had replaced my delicate white sauce….well….because it was easier. While the sherry and blanched almonds had been omitted because she had forgotten to put them on her grocery list.
Moments later, as the serving spoon plunged into the steaming “piece de resistance” she casually looked around the table and announced to the assembled guests: “If this casserole isn’t any good, don’t blame me. This is Runa Ware’s recipe.”
Sometimes I think we preachers are related to that poor lady, if not by blood, then by practice. For we have this habit of coming to the finest of feasts and serving up watered-down versions of the faith….omitting the most difficult ingredients altogether….and then delivering the finished product half-heartedly, as if apologizing for the meager portion of truth we are bringing to the table.
What am I saying? I am saying (quite frankly) that a great deal of Easter preaching is insipid, tentative and utterly lacking in confidence. For more centuries than I have fingers upon which to count, the Easter morning cry has echoed antiphonally between priest and people:
Priest: Christ is risen.
People: He is risen, indeed.
I fear, however, that there are a great many corners of Christendom this morning where both priest and people are inclined toward a more provisional antiphon:
Priest: Christ is risen.
People: He is risen, I think (or, I hope…. or, some say).
Since sermons are my stock in trade, I tend to read a lot of them. In fact, I probably read ten for every one I preach. But it is amazing how many Easter sermons skate lightly (if at all) over the central, and incredible, Easter affirmation….that death has been beaten by Jesus….and, by implication, will be beaten by us.
Instead, I read a lot of stuff about the seasonal rebirth of nature….as if crocuses really were an answer to the cross, and as if tulips (bursting from the ground) had something to do with Jesus (bursting from the tomb). They aren’t….and they don’t. And I say this as one who loves crocuses and tulips. Along with butterflies. But if I read one more Easter sermon in which vacated cocoons are offered as examples of the resurrection, I think I will become sick to my professional stomach.
I also read Easter sermons that focus heavily on the ways in which you and I can be released from emotional tombs….like guilt, grief, fear, sadness, despair, depression, self-loathing (those kinds of tombs). And I am kinder in judging those sermons, given that I have preached them myself….and probably will again.
But the Creed pins all such efforts to the wall, forcing us preachers to repent of even our most creative evasions. For in the Creed we read: “On the third day, he rose from the dead.” And, in its getaway line, it adds: “I believe in the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and the life everlasting.”
And if the Creed didn’t pin us to the wall, the Apostle Paul would. For, in his answer to his Corinthian skeptics, Paul argues: “If Christ be not raised, then our faith is in vain….our hope is in vain….our preaching is in vain….and we (of all men) are most to be pitied.” Which I find to be a fascinating line. For, in it, Paul is staking both his and my professional credibility on the line….along with our personal happiness. For one could readily retranslate the line to read: “If Christ be not raised, then we are out of jobs….and (worse yet) we are out of joy.”
If anything, Paul’s word to the Corinthians (written in 57 AD) proves that doubt in the resurrection did not originate with us. Yesterday morning found Kris at Borders, buying a baptism present for Joy Hook. While waiting to cash out, she eavesdropped on a vigorous debate over last week’s PBS special on Jesus (and David Crumm’s front page story, two days earlier) on the work of the Jesus Seminar. Among things being freshly reconsidered are the physical resurrection and subsequent appearances of Jesus. What can be said? What can’t be said? Which is serious scholarship….diligent work….and good grist for informed conversation (which I will undertake with anyone who is interested). But it is hardly new. There isn’t any issue being raised….any theory being offered….or any question being debated, that we weren’t discussing at Yale Divinity School in the early ‘60s. And which Paul wasn’t discussing in Corinth in the early ‘50s (not the 1950s, mind you….I mean, the early ’50s). Turn to the fifteenth chapter of I Corinthians. The questions are all there. In spades. Was Christ really raised? Will we be raised? Can flesh and blood inherit the Kingdom? With what body shall we come?
Someone once said to me (during a Bible study on Paul’s Corinthian correspondence): “Why didn’t Paul just tell the skeptics to read the Gospels (meaning Matthew, Mark, Luke and John)? Which was a logical question. But a naïve one. For none of the Gospels existed when Paul wrote to Corinth. Paul wrote 15 years before Mark….25 years before Matthew…..25 years before Luke….and approximately 40 years before John. Which means that questions were being raised about the resurrection narratives before any such narratives existed….when the “Jesus story” was still an oral story….and when the “Jesus story” was still in the process of being passed, witness to witness, friend to friend, house to house, preacher to hearer, and letter-writer to letter-reader.
Which makes Paul’s answer to his Corinthian critics all the more interesting, given that it represents (for all intents and purposes) the first formal defense of “the resurrection faith.” And what is interesting to note is that Paul roots his response, not on a discussion of the empty tomb (nowhere does Paul use the words “empty tomb”), but in the appearances made by the risen Lord to Peter….to the twelve….to 500 brethren at one time (most of whom, he claimed, were still alive)….then to James….then to the apostles….and “last of all (as one untimely born) to me.”
It is interesting that Paul doesn’t mention any women….especially Mary Magdalene who is featured so prominently in John’s Easter account. Which means that Paul didn’t know about the women, or that he knew about, but chose to disregard, the women. But even though a modern-day attorney would use Mary Magdalene’s alleged reputation to smear her testimony unmercifully, there it is: “I have seen the Lord,” she said. Which was enough….when coupled with the back-up testimony of others like her. And which was more than enough (over time) to generate the movement that would culminate in the church. Which, itself, was no small miracle. I mean, after Jesus resuscitated Lazarus, nobody suggested forming a church and worshiping Lazarus. And though I’ve traveled the world around, I’ve yet to worship in any place named St. Lazarus.
Barbara Brown Taylor (who I’ve come to admire a great deal of late) adds: “The appearances of Jesus cinch the resurrection for me, not what happened in the tomb. What happened in the tomb was entirely between God and Jesus.”
Warming to her subject, she adds:
I find myself wondering why we focus so much energy on that morning….that tomb….what happened there….and how in the world we are going to explain it to anyone otherwise disinclined to believe it. Because resurrection does not square with anything else we know about physical life on this earth. No one has ever seen it happen. Which is why it helps me to remember that no one saw it happen on Easter, either.
No one can say what happened inside the tomb, because no one was there. They all arrived after the fact. Which means that they are no better off than us, given that we have all arrived “after the fact” also. Clearly, Jesus was not there. His grave clothes were. In fact, they were all folded and piled. I suppose he could have stayed put beside the piles, sitting there (naked?)….all pink and healthy…..so that everyone could come and see him for themselves. But that is not what he did.
He had outgrown his tomb….which was far too small and confining a place for something so big as the resurrection. The Risen One had people to see and things to do. The Living One’s business was among the living….who, as a result of meeting him, inevitably became wiser, kinder and far more daring than they had been before. And become so still.
More than that as proof, I cannot offer…for the time being. And what does “for the time being” mean? You know what it means. But for the dense of head and heart, let me quote Father Andrew Greeley. When asked how one could possibly authenticate the Roman Catholic doctrine of the resurrection, Father Greeley responded (rather cryptically, I suspect): “I suppose that one could die.” But most of us aren’t ready to do that. At least not yet. So the only alternative is to live our way into the resurrection, trusting that while Easter will be proved in the next life, it can be experienced in this one.
Earlier, I read Paul’s word to the Ephesians: “No longer shall you live as the Gentiles do, in the futility of your minds.” Which, if ever a text had your name on it….your social security number on it….your zip code on it….this one does. For I know you people. I know that futility does not become you. And I know that futility will not sustain you….marked, as it is, by its attendant images of helplessness and hopelessness. Which explains why you found your way here this morning….like swallows returning to Capistrano….to drink of the promise that this day affords.
And let me congratulate you. You made a good choice in coming here. For long ago we, in this church, heard the angel ask: “Why seek ye the living among the dead?” So we don’t. Instead, we look for life in the midst of life. And we will help you dothe same.
I recently heard of a preacher who became so frustrated with her congregation that she said, as her sermon was drawing to a close: “Why don’t we all just form a circle, hold hands, light a candle, and attempt to communicate with the living?” Meaning that she didn’t think the people in her church were….living, that is. And meaning that hers would be a terrible church to stumble into for Easter.
But I shouldn’t be so hard on her. Maybe one “proof” of the resurrection is that she is still at it. This very morning, she is standing up there in front of 20 or 30 families….despite the fact that her flock is declining rather than growing….despite the fact that few will make the effort to hear her out, and fewer (if any) will thank her when she is done….and despite the fact that she receives a pittance of a salary for doing what she is doing, while half of the people begrudge paying her even that. But there she is….ladling it out….hoping, against hope, that someone will drink it in.
Because it’s there for the thirsty….this antidote to futility that we call Easter. Booker T. Washington (who founded Tuskegee Institute in 1881) is famous for his story of a ship, lost at sea. Sighting a friendly vessel, it sent the following signal: “Water, water, for we die of thirst.” Back came the answer: “Cast down your bucket where you are.” Second transmission, same signal: “Water, water, for we die of thirst.” Same response: “Cast down your bucket where you are.” Third exchange. Fourth. Same request. Same answer. Finally the captain of the distressed vessel did as he was instructed. Down went the bucket. Up came two gallons of fresh, sparkling water. For, in the fog and darkness, they had drifted into the mouth of the Amazon River and didn’t even know it.
And out of your fog and darkness, you have drifted into the mouth of the River of Life, and are to be congratulated for finding your way here (to where it is flowing). So dip, drink, and then get dressed….if you haven’t already.
Read further in Ephesians 4: “Put off your old nature (belonging to your former life) and put on a new one (clothing yourself after the likeness of God).” Did you ever wonder about the origin of the “new clothes for Easter” idea? I mean, where did we get the idea that there should be hats for the ladies, ties for the men, suits for little boys, and pretty little dresses for pretty little girls….not to mention orchids, gardenias and daffodils, pinned to whatever. It was never meant to be a fashion thing. It was never meant to be a status thing. It was never meant to be a marketing thing. Nor was it ever meant to be an upscale, suburban thing. In fact, the best looking Easter crowds I have ever seen have been in inner city churches.
It was a way of saying: “Not just any old thing in the closet will do, as a way of expressing what God (in raising Jesus from the dead) has already done. In response to such news, I must renew myself from the inside out. And reflect it, from the outside in.”
Several years ago in Crowley’s I watched a mini-drama in progress. The dramatic personae were one angry mother, one resistant daughter, and one tired saleslady (wishing she could go on “break”). The mother was shouting:
What’s wrong with this dress? This was what you said you wanted. It’s the right size. It’s the right color. It’s the right price. It doesn’t have a belt. It doesn’t have a collar. It doesn’t have puffy sleeves. It doesn’t even have frills. And since Sunday is Easter, this is the dress you are going to wear to church.
Leading the little girl to plant her feet and say “no.” That’s all. Just “no.” And leading her mother to say: “If you think you’re gonna win, think again little girl. Because there’s no way you’re gonna win. No way in hell.”
But you see, Jesus Christ has already won….over death….over hell….over dark days, down days, ugly dress days and bad hair days….over all that is helpless, hopeless, fleeting and futile….so it’s time (I say) to taste it on the inside and display it on the outside. Which explains my haircut….my shined shoes….my fresh-from-the-cleaning-bag suit….my brand-spanking-new tie….and my wife’s gardenia (among other things). I have dipped in the river, don’t you see? And if there’s any part of you that is sick of who you are….sick of how you look….sick of what you’re feeling….sick of what you’re doing…..or sick of the person you’re becoming….you can too.
* * * * *
How does one bring this to a close? Let me try this. While sermon surfing (not so long ago) I came across….are you ready for this?….Robert Schuller out in Garden Grove, California. He was recalling his own remarks, some time previous, at the funeral of Hubert Humphrey….and of his earlier presence at Senator Humphrey’s deathbed. Describing that scene (with that man) (and that family) at death’s door, he coined a trio of phrases.
Pride behind him.
Love around him.
Hope before him.
Which was extraordinary, I thought. So I wrote it all down. I figured I could use it at funerals. I mean, most of us have some pride behind us. And, if we but look, even the loneliest of us have some love around us. And if I have been at all convincing this morning, we have a veritable river of hope before us. So let me challenge you to some very un-Birmingham-like behavior this glorious Easter day. Let’s personalize Schuller’s phrases, long enough to say them together.
Pride behind me.
Love around me.
Hope before me. (three times, rising in intensity to the level of a shout)
And, as long as we’re on something of a roll:
Leader: Christ is risen.
People: He is risen, indeed.
Note: In preparing this Easter sermon, I accumulated debts to the likes of Barbara Brown Taylor, Peter Gomes and William Willimon. For additional study of the controversies engenderedby the Jesus Seminar, I would direct the reader to the work of Robert Funk and his newly-released What Did Jesus Do? As concerns dating for the various narratives of the New Testament, one can approach a number of sources. While answers vary by a decade, there is a consensus of scholarly opinion that Paul wrote prior to the Gospels and that Mark was the initial Gospel written (sometime around 70 AD).
