Homily for Easter Sunday
The angel asked them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”
(Lk 24:5)
The news this week, like every week, casts a shadow on the Easter celebration. The bridge in Baltimore collapsed, the war in Ukraine continues, and the people in Gaza are starving.
This seems in conflict with our celebration. It is Easter! We have perfect Spring weather and flowers bursting into bloom. It’s a time to wear pretty clothes. Easter is a time to leave that messy world behind and enter this beautiful moment called Easter, at least for a day. Right?
Wrong. The Easter event isn’t meant to transport us away from this messiness into this magical place for a while. The Easter event is meant to be lived amid life’s messiness. Resurrection doesn’t mean we leave the world behind to go to a place we sing Glorias and Alleluias for a while. Resurrection means that through the dying and rising of Christ, new life can enter those parts of our life that have died – including those parts that are at war, starving, and falling apart.
When I listen to the news, I wonder. How can I be an alleluia person not just on Easter Sunday, but on every day?
Let’s go back to the first Easter morning. That Easter took place after an atrocious act of violence. Roman crucifixion was an extreme act of terror used to control the population. The remaining disciples knew they might be next. With the horror of that that Good Friday still vividly scorched in their memories; the women went to the tomb on Easter morning to pay respects to the dead.
They were probably sharing some of the same emotions I feel when watching the news. Anger. Worry. Betrayal. Sadness. Grief.
They went to the tomb to see not only the dead body of their Lord. Many other things died along with Jesus. Their dreams. Their hopes. Their prospects for a better future. Their experience of unconditional love. The forgiveness of their sins. Death to all that was good in their lives.
The women went to the tomb to anoint the body. They may have also gone to the tomb to say farewell to all the other parts of their life that had died. Their experience of Jesus – his miracles, exorcisms, healings – was just going to be a footnote as they return to the hopeless, inescapable drudgery of their former way of life.
As they carried the oils, they also carried the weight of these devastating losses. Hunched over with grief and weariness, they arrived. To their utter astonishment, the tomb was empty!
On that first Easter morning, something changed. They were no longer victims of a broken world, no longer powerless, no longer looking for some dark place to hide. They became apostles. Messengers. And their message: He lives! And I live with him.
The first Easter changed their lives. That empty tomb changed their lives. Now, everything was seen through this lens of resurrection. Evil, sin and even death no longer have any power. He lives. And I live with him.
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What keeps us from experiencing this same Easter joy, even amidst life’s messiness? One way to answer the question is that for us, the tomb is not empty. In our tomb are many wounds from the past. We still, in the words of the angel, “seek the living among the dead.”
What could be still buried in your tomb? What keeps you from fully experiencing the promises of the resurrection?
Maybe you’ve become cynical and have buried your compassion in the tomb. Maybe your heart has become hardened, and you’ve buried mercy. Maybe you’ve become frozen in your self-importance, and you’ve buried humility. Perhaps you’ve been hurt one too many times, and you’ve buried your willingness to forgive. Perhaps you’re filled with doubt, and you’ve buried any belief that God is renewing creation.
Jesus has been raised to new life, and so too has the messiness of our lives. Jesus has been raised, and carried with him all the wounds of our past. Jesus has been raised, and filled the future with new possibilities. To experience this resurrection, we need to roll away the stone. We need to let the miracle of new, resurrected life enter, especially in the past. We need to stop looking for the living one among the dead.
He lives! He lives even in our messiness.
Amen. Alleluia.