Friday, April 12, 2013
Funny Sunday: The Risus Paschalis - The Easter Laugh
Laughter has been called God's holy medicine –
the ancients thought it to be exercise for the soul.
There is no doubt in my mind that these disciples were happy people when they encountered the Risen Christ.
They must have been laughing and carrying on.
They knew the joke was on them, because they hadn't believed what they had been told.
Today we celebrate the risus paschalis – God’s easter laugh.
The joke is on the devil.
The joke is on all who still think that life is defined by birth and death.
Jesus taught the early church how to laugh:
how to laugh at death.
How to laugh at appearances,
how to laugh in the face of all manner of difficulty.
Today, we remember God’s great surprise –
Ecclesiastes 3:1-4
Luke 24:36-43
After warming up with a series of knock knock jokes - 40-60 in rapid delivery:
State of the church that day:
those first Christians were pretty bleak that first Easter Sunday.
They had witnessed a disturbing set of events.
Their leader, the one to whom they had sworn their allegiance,
the one they thought was going to lead them and the world into a new tomorrow, was tortured, ridiculed, crucified, dead, (for sure,) and buried.
And then, on this third day,
they found the tomb in which he was placed, open, and his body missing -
taken by whom?,
removed to where?,
and why?
They suspected sadism, I'm sure.
The authorities - or some enemies - just wanted to make sure this troublemaker would never be heard from again.
They were afraid.
What did all of this mean for them?
For sure, the authorities would be coming after them now.
What to do?
They gathered behind locked doors - fearing the worst.
And then, all of a sudden, there he is.
Right there in the middle of them.
In the middle of their wailing and gnashing of teeth,
there’s Jesus.
Knock knock.
Reactions to Jesus: !!!!!?????!!!!!
"Hee-haw! Jesus Christ!"
They must have had the biggest smiles
Can't you just see and feel what happened?
"Oh man, you really did it this time!
You really put one over on us!
You got us good! And what about the others?
Just wait until they get a load of this!"
The Risen Christ was the punch line of God's Great Surprise.
The resurrection of Jesus is the greatest surprise in the history of humanity.
Until then, once people died and were buried, they stayed put.
There is no doubt in my mind that these disciples were happy people when they encountered the Risen Christ.
They must have been laughing and carrying on.
They knew the joke was on them, because they hadn't believed what they had been told.
And now, the joke is on all those who refuse to believe.
This is the Easter surprise, the Easter laugh, the Easter joy.
And, far from being so solemn and placid like he is portrayed in so many pictures,
Jesus must have been grinning from ear to ear! – grabbing his friends by the neck, hugging and rustling hair – and what did he say:
“Hey, got anything to eat around here?”
And what did they do:
they flipped him a fish.
Zig Zigler writes that “the most destitute person in the world is the one without a smile.”
This is when the disciples broke out of their situation – no longer were they feeling destitute and downcast.
C.K. Chesterton wrote that “surprise is the secret of joy.”
For centuries there has been a tradition passed on through some of our Christian Orthodox churches for the people to gather on the Monday after Easter to be joyful – to celebrate surprises – to tell jokes and stories – sharing laughter.
And in it all, remembering the punch line of God’s Greatest Surprise.
A church historian has pointed out that in days of yore, every Easter sermon began with a joke.
Somehow, we have misguidedly equated somberism with Christianity.
Clearly, this was not the case in the very beginning.
Those early Christians were so surprised by their Risen Friend that they must have been ecstatic! – totally joyous – completely joy-filled.
Today in many parts of the world, many Protestant, Catholic and Orthodox countries celebrate Easter Monday as a day of “joy and laughter” with parties and picnics to celebrate Jesus’s resurrection.
It is called White Monday,
Bright Monday,
Dyngus Day,
and Emmaus Day in various countries.
It is a time for the faithful to play practical jokes on one another,
a time to sing silly songs,
a time to dance crazy steps.
It is a time for clergy and lay people to tell jokes and to have fun.
The custom of Easter Monday and Holy Hilarity Sunday celebrations are rooted in the musings of early church theologians like Augustine, Gregory of Nyssa and John Crysostom that God played a joke on the devil by raising Jesus from the dead.
You see, Easter is seen as “God’s supreme joke played on that old imposter, death.”
The early theologians called it “risus paschalis” – the Easter laugh.
This theme has been passed down through the ages.
Francis of Assisi advised: “Leave sadness to the devil. The devil has reason to be sad.”
Meister Eckhart, a 13th century theologian, wrote: “God laughed and begat the Son.
Together they laughed and begat the Holy Spirit. And from the laughter of the Three, the universe was born.”
Martin Luther wrote: “God is not a God of sadness, but the devil is.
Christ is a God of joy.
It is pleasing to the dear God whenever one rejoices or laughs from the bottom of your heart.”
Easter is the morning when the Lord laughs out loud,
laughs at all the things that snuff out joy,
laughs at all the things that pretend to be all-powerful, like cruelty and madness and despair and evil,
and most especially, laughs at the great pretender, death.
Jesus sweeps them away with his wonderful resurrection laughter.
Norman Vincent Peale wrote:
“laughter sweeps away the cobwebs from the mind.”
Paul talks about a resurrection appearance of Jesus before an audience of over 500 people.
One writer ruminates:
“[Now how would you think] 500-plus people react to an appearance by Jesus, the one who had been crucified and buried?
Would they applaud politely?
(With a proper Presbyterian clap.)
My guess is that 500-plus folks rose to their feed with a standing ovation.
This was the most incredible comeback story of all time.
They would have jumped for joy and hugged their neighbors and probably even danced all around.
These 500-plus folks, because of Jesus, had the best belly laugh of their lives.
Easter had taught the 500-plus how to celebrate.”
We ought to pay attention, don’t you think?
Church historians indicate that there is considerable evidence that during the early centuries of Christianity, Easter celebrations went on for days – even weeks.
This picture on our bulletin is very appropriate for today.
It is an artist’s depiction of the Risen Christ with his friends in the evening on that first Easter Day.
– the story we read this morning.
Today, many churches all over the country are trying to lift up the hilaritas of the Easter season -- celebrating the risus paschalis: the Easter Laugh.
Michelangelo wrote rather indignantly in 1564 to his fellow artists:
“Why do you keep filing gallery after gallery with endless pictures of the one ever-reiterated theme of Christ in weakness,
of Christ upon the cross,
of Christ dying,
of Christ hanging dead?
Why do you stop there as if the curtain is closed upon that horror?
Keep the curtain open, and with the cross in the foreground, let us see beyond it to the Easter dawn with its beams streaming upon the risen Christ, Christ alive, Christ ruling, Christ triumphant.
“For we should be ringing out over the world that Christ has won,
that evil is toppling,
that the end is sure,
and that death is followed by victory.
That is the tonic we need to keep us healthy,
the trumpet blast to fire our blood and send us crowding in behind our Master,
swinging happily on our way,
laughing and singing and recklessly unafraid, because the feel of victory is in the air and our hearts thrill to it.”
Laughter has been called God's holy medicine –
the ancients thought it to be exercise for the soul.
What a great idea, don’t you think?
Laughter is exercise for the soul!
In fact, there is a tremendous body of evidence being
accumulated today in schools from Johns Hopkins to
Stanford University Medical Schools and in countries
all over the world – evidence that supports this ancient idea:
that laughter is exercise for the soul and
actually affects our physical and mental health.
Not long ago the AARP newsletter published an article about how doctors and nurses and hospitals are being taught what we already know: the title of the article is "It's No Joke: Humor Heals"!
You may have seen that movie, Patches.
It's a real story about a real doctor, Patch Adams, and his work to introduce laughter therapy into medical institutions.
A whole field of study has arisen called psychoneuroimmunology –
studying the affects of love and laughter,
the affects of attitude on a person's state of health.
Actually, this is one of the secrets of this church.
Recent studies show that church-goers tend to live
longer and be healthier than others in the population.
This doesn't mean that going to church is like an
insurance policy whereby you automatically will be
rewarded with good health and a long life.
All of us get ill, and we do die.
But, here in church we learn how to live now,
we learn how to love,
we learn how to survive,
we learn how to have the courage to face each day.
In fact, we might should say that is the goal of our
church: to teach us how to live these days of our lives
joyously and lovingly.
Today we celebrate the risus paschalis – God’s easter laugh.
The joke is on the devil.
The joke is on all who still think that life is defined by birth and death.
Jesus taught the early church how to laugh:
how to laugh at death.
How to laugh at appearances,
how to laugh in the face of all manner of difficulty.
Today, we remember God’s great surprise –
and the word for each of us:
Turn to John 15:11 [page ]
Like those early disciples, when you experience the risen Christ – joy is yours.
Paul can say:
“rejoice in all things. Again, I say, rejoice!”
Easter is a time of deep surprise, the surprise of suddenly realizing that God makes all things right in ways we can never imagine.
On this second Sunday of Easter, I hope you can continue to feel the joy of encountering the Risen Christ for a long time to come. Amen.
The congregation of Christ Presbyterian Church in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, USA, heard this sermon on Holy Humor Sunday, March 7, 2013.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Easter: The Birthday of A Whole New World
It is very clear that none of those early followers of Jesus expected Easter.
Resurrection was not a part of their daily experience.
Jesus’s closest friends and disciples didn’t believe the women.
Because the story was too far fetched.
If we are honest, those apostles on that first Easter were really not much different from us, are they?
We know what’s real, don’t we?
We know the limits of the physical universe.
The real miracle of Easter is that Jesus continues to be alive and continues to come to us and continues to empower us –
just as he came to those apostles, and just as he empowered them.
Like the apostles, like those women early in the morning on that first Easter,
we usually fail to recognize the living Lord and his restoring power for our lives,
because we look in the wrong places.
Easter is a conviction that says that something extraordinary is loose in our world, and compels us to live our lives into glory.
So, I have this cartoon that shows two Roman soldiers guarding Jesus' tomb on the first Easter morning.
Each has a mug of tea in his hand, and the sun is just rising above the horizon.
One is encouraging the other:
"Cheer up, it's Sunday morning.
As I see it, we have one more day of guarding the tomb.
By Monday the whole thing will blow over."
Of course, the whole thing didn’t blow over, did it?
The world is still astonished that millions of Christians celebrate Easter with such excitement. Like those guards at the tomb they assume that "by Monday the whole thing will blow over."
But, it doesn't, does it?
After some 2000 years, we still come to hear the story told once more.
While we may not comprehend the actual story – and the events the stories recall –
we have a hunch that it is an important story
and so we come to hear it again,
to sing the festive music,
to take in the colorful flowers,
to see who else is here,
and, maybe, to be inspired somewhat.
The Easter story is central to each of the Gospels.
Each of the Gospels has a little different slant on the story, but each one is very clear about the significance of what happened that day.
Mark lets us know that it was the women who were there first early in the morning.
[It seems like the women are always there first, doesn’t it?]
And Mark names the women.
When they got to the tomb they became frightened.
What they saw was not what they were expecting to see.
It is very clear that none of those early followers of Jesus expected Easter.
Although the signs may have pointed to it, it was not expected.
[At this point, they were no different from you and me, were they?]
Resurrection was not a part of their daily experience.
They actually thought their movement was over. They were afraid for their lives.
They took to hiding, lest the authorities would find them and kill them too.
So, while the men hid, the women went to the tomb carrying spices they had prepared, presumably for a ritual cleansing of the body of their friend Jesus.
Just two days before they were there as the body of Jesus was placed in the unused tomb that had been dug out of solid rock.
And so, they were surprised to find the stone that blocked the entrance to the tomb rolled away from the doorway.
And, then they saw this man – and then they were frightened.
Why was this stranger there?
And why is he in the tomb of their friend?
What did he want?
Who was he?
Who did he work for?
Of course, they were too scared to ask these questions out loud.
They had witnessed the way the authorities and the crowds treated their friend a couple of days before, and they must of feared for their lives now.
They bowed downed to the ground.
They cowed.
They turned their heads.
They averted their eyes.
As if to say, “I didn’t see you.
Spare me and I won’t tell anyone you were here.”
But then, the unusual happens – the real surprise of the story.
The man in his bright shining clothes spoke to the women.
He said, “So, Why are you looking among the dead for the one who is alive?”
Those women must have wondered what that meant as much as we do.
Then the man said, “He is not here!”
What do you mean, “He’s not here?
What have you done with him?”
“He has been raised. Remember what he said?”
“Well, yeah, but . . . .”
Mark says that then they remembered.
Then it began to dawn on them.
It must be true.
All that he said before.
It must be true.
Blessed are the peacemakers --
the last shall be first --
love your neighbor as yourself --
a place is prepared for you at the table in the Kingdom --
worry not about the cares of the world, God will take care of you.
It all must be true!
They immediately returned to where the apostles were hiding and told them what had happened.
“It all must be true, don’t you see?”
But, the apostles thought the women were a little touched in the head
– they thought they were crazy
– they thought the women were nuts
– they didn’t believe them.
Jesus’s closest friends and disciples didn’t believe the women.
Because the story was too far fetched –
even for them –
especially for them.
They had seen their leader totally defeated,
mocked even,
tortured,
ridiculed,
killed,
dead to the max.
And no one helped him.
He died alone –
apparently despised and rejected by all who may have been able to help him –
apparently even abandoned by his God.
The authorities had won.
If they had thought of it, they would have said, “The devil was victorious.”
Clearly, their lives as they had known them, were over.
Things had changed now.
And, they weren’t sure just how it was all going to be sorted out.
So the women must be hallucinating.
If we are honest, those apostles on that first Easter were really not much different from us, are they?
We know what’s real, don’t we?
We know the limits of the physical universe.
We experience the reality of life within boundaries of space and time, right? – we are born, we live, and we die.
And so we hear the Easter account as those disciples did on that morning – except . . . .
Except, we know the rest of the story.
The disciples came to believe only after they experienced the Risen Christ –
the disciples came to believe only after they met the Risen Christ --
the disciples came to believe only after the encountered the Risen Christ.
And so it is with us.
The real miracle of Easter is not that the tomb was empty.
The real miracle of Easter is not that Jesus was raised as the two men announced to the women that morning.
But, the real miracle of Easter is that Jesus continues to be alive and continues to come to us and continues to empower us –
just as he came to those apostles, and just as he empowered them.
They came to find and experience the presence of Christ wherever they went.
Wherever they went, whatever they did, he was already there – ahead of them.
Like the apostles, like those women early in the morning on that first Easter,
we usually fail to recognize the living Lord and his restoring power for our lives,
because we look in the wrong places.
[Why do you look among the dead, for the one who lives?]
When we seek the living Lord among the dead, as they did, what we do here and what we celebrate is little more than a history lesson.
Brothers and sisters in Christ, what Easter proclaims is that Jesus refuses to stay buried,
refuses to stay undercover,
refuses to stay entombed,
refuses to stay in the container.
He keeps getting out of the tombs in which we keep trying to bury him.
It would be much more comfortable if we didn’t have this to deal with, wouldn’t it?
We keep trying to put Jesus in a box, don’t we? – a tomb –
like the Jews tried to keep their God in a box.
But, it didn’t work for them.
And it doesn’t work for us.
A preacher-friend told me a story about his little league days.
In 1953 there just four teams in his little town.
Their uniforms were just baseball caps and T-shirts dyed different colors.
They didn’t have much of a playing field –
there was barely discernable grass in the outfield, and there was nothing defining the base paths –
except for chalk lines down the first and third base lines.
He remembers playing two and three games a day on that beaten lot.
And every single time they played, he remembers Jack being there.
Jack was a man of no last name,
but Jack was the faithful soul who was always there and always laid down the chalk base lines for every game.
It didn’t take long for the chalk lines to be obliterated, but Jack would remark the lines after the third inning of each game to ensure the integrity of the playing field.
He said, “Jack, the chalk man was always there to mark the baselines of our play.”
And I thought, you know, that’s what this Risen Christ is always doing:
lining the pathways for us to follow.
He establishes the pathways between human beings and God,
pathways that are frequently obliterated by the struggling enthusiasm, and stubborn resistance of people like you and me.
The Risen Christ opens passages of love among people,
among cultures,
among nations again and again.
It happens when people feel the deep conviction of the love of Christ in their lives and know that they live under the command to share the gospel story of love.
There is a Gaelic legend that tells about an eagle swooping down and carrying a little baby off to his lofty nest up as high as the eagle could go on top of the mountain.
Needless to say, the people of the village were extremely upset about this.
And the strongest of the young villagers chased after the eagle.
They tried to scale the high rugged cliff to reach the eagle’s nest on top.
But, alas, one by one, each of the rugged young men fails.
Each one starts to lag.
Each one starts to draw back.
And as they languish, they see a thin young woman coming up the steep cliff behind them,
slowly and deliberately, finally overtaking them,
and even passing them, and going on to reach the nest on top.
The eagle is not there.
The baby is – and appears unhurt.
She picks up the baby, carefully wraps him up in her shawl and starts down the treacherous precipice carrying the unharmed baby in her shawl.
Needless-to-say, the men were astounded.
They asked, “How can you do that? – when we failed?”
And she tells them her secret: “I’m the baby’s mother.”
The point is that she had a conviction in her heart and soul which propelled her up the cliff to reclaim her child.
And that’s what Easter does for us.
That’s why we celebrate Easter each year at this time.
That’s why we celebrate Easter each and every Sunday when we gather in here in worship.
Easter is a conviction that says that something extraordinary is loose in our world, and compels us to live our lives into glory.
Christ is alive!
Christ is present today.
We see it again and again. If we only look.
If we only use the senses that have been given to us.
We encounter the presence of Christ through people who are ready to help one another through difficult times.
We encounter the presence of Christ through those who care for one another.
We encounter the presence of Christ through those who work for justice and are willing to protect the sacred rights of every person.
We encounter the presence of Christ among people who seek peace with a fervent desire to live in a world that is transformed by human action and divine love.
We encounter the presence of Christ with people who joyfully share the gift of love no matter the circumstance or cost.
And the kicker is, friends, you and I are called to be those people –
each and every one of us, is called to be –
helpers,
caregivers,
protectors of justice,
pursuers of peace
and witnesses to God’s love at work in the world.
You can look all you want among the dead for the one who lives.
But, you’ll never find the Christ there.
The direction was given to those women on that first Easter morning –
and the direction is given to you and me –
“He is not here.
He has been raised.
Go back to where you came from.
Go back to the communities, to the streets and byways where you live your lives.
That’s where you will find him.”
It’s a new world now.
It’s a new day!
There are new rules to play by!
Joy to the world!
Joy to you this Easter day!
Amen.
The congregation of Christ Presbyterian Church in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, USA, heard this sermon during a worship service on Easter Sunday, March 31, 2013.
Resurrection was not a part of their daily experience.
Jesus’s closest friends and disciples didn’t believe the women.
Because the story was too far fetched.
If we are honest, those apostles on that first Easter were really not much different from us, are they?
We know what’s real, don’t we?
We know the limits of the physical universe.
The real miracle of Easter is that Jesus continues to be alive and continues to come to us and continues to empower us –
just as he came to those apostles, and just as he empowered them.
Like the apostles, like those women early in the morning on that first Easter,
we usually fail to recognize the living Lord and his restoring power for our lives,
because we look in the wrong places.
Easter is a conviction that says that something extraordinary is loose in our world, and compels us to live our lives into glory.
So, I have this cartoon that shows two Roman soldiers guarding Jesus' tomb on the first Easter morning.
Each has a mug of tea in his hand, and the sun is just rising above the horizon.
One is encouraging the other:
"Cheer up, it's Sunday morning.
As I see it, we have one more day of guarding the tomb.
By Monday the whole thing will blow over."
Of course, the whole thing didn’t blow over, did it?
The world is still astonished that millions of Christians celebrate Easter with such excitement. Like those guards at the tomb they assume that "by Monday the whole thing will blow over."
But, it doesn't, does it?
After some 2000 years, we still come to hear the story told once more.
While we may not comprehend the actual story – and the events the stories recall –
we have a hunch that it is an important story
and so we come to hear it again,
to sing the festive music,
to take in the colorful flowers,
to see who else is here,
and, maybe, to be inspired somewhat.
The Easter story is central to each of the Gospels.
Each of the Gospels has a little different slant on the story, but each one is very clear about the significance of what happened that day.
Mark lets us know that it was the women who were there first early in the morning.
[It seems like the women are always there first, doesn’t it?]
And Mark names the women.
When they got to the tomb they became frightened.
What they saw was not what they were expecting to see.
It is very clear that none of those early followers of Jesus expected Easter.
Although the signs may have pointed to it, it was not expected.
[At this point, they were no different from you and me, were they?]
Resurrection was not a part of their daily experience.
They actually thought their movement was over. They were afraid for their lives.
They took to hiding, lest the authorities would find them and kill them too.
So, while the men hid, the women went to the tomb carrying spices they had prepared, presumably for a ritual cleansing of the body of their friend Jesus.
Just two days before they were there as the body of Jesus was placed in the unused tomb that had been dug out of solid rock.
And so, they were surprised to find the stone that blocked the entrance to the tomb rolled away from the doorway.
And, then they saw this man – and then they were frightened.
Why was this stranger there?
And why is he in the tomb of their friend?
What did he want?
Who was he?
Who did he work for?
Of course, they were too scared to ask these questions out loud.
They had witnessed the way the authorities and the crowds treated their friend a couple of days before, and they must of feared for their lives now.
They bowed downed to the ground.
They cowed.
They turned their heads.
They averted their eyes.
As if to say, “I didn’t see you.
Spare me and I won’t tell anyone you were here.”
But then, the unusual happens – the real surprise of the story.
The man in his bright shining clothes spoke to the women.
He said, “So, Why are you looking among the dead for the one who is alive?”
Those women must have wondered what that meant as much as we do.
Then the man said, “He is not here!”
What do you mean, “He’s not here?
What have you done with him?”
“He has been raised. Remember what he said?”
“Well, yeah, but . . . .”
Mark says that then they remembered.
Then it began to dawn on them.
It must be true.
All that he said before.
It must be true.
Blessed are the peacemakers --
the last shall be first --
love your neighbor as yourself --
a place is prepared for you at the table in the Kingdom --
worry not about the cares of the world, God will take care of you.
It all must be true!
They immediately returned to where the apostles were hiding and told them what had happened.
“It all must be true, don’t you see?”
But, the apostles thought the women were a little touched in the head
– they thought they were crazy
– they thought the women were nuts
– they didn’t believe them.
Jesus’s closest friends and disciples didn’t believe the women.
Because the story was too far fetched –
even for them –
especially for them.
They had seen their leader totally defeated,
mocked even,
tortured,
ridiculed,
killed,
dead to the max.
And no one helped him.
He died alone –
apparently despised and rejected by all who may have been able to help him –
apparently even abandoned by his God.
The authorities had won.
If they had thought of it, they would have said, “The devil was victorious.”
Clearly, their lives as they had known them, were over.
Things had changed now.
And, they weren’t sure just how it was all going to be sorted out.
So the women must be hallucinating.
If we are honest, those apostles on that first Easter were really not much different from us, are they?
We know what’s real, don’t we?
We know the limits of the physical universe.
We experience the reality of life within boundaries of space and time, right? – we are born, we live, and we die.
And so we hear the Easter account as those disciples did on that morning – except . . . .
Except, we know the rest of the story.
The disciples came to believe only after they experienced the Risen Christ –
the disciples came to believe only after they met the Risen Christ --
the disciples came to believe only after the encountered the Risen Christ.
And so it is with us.
The real miracle of Easter is not that the tomb was empty.
The real miracle of Easter is not that Jesus was raised as the two men announced to the women that morning.
But, the real miracle of Easter is that Jesus continues to be alive and continues to come to us and continues to empower us –
just as he came to those apostles, and just as he empowered them.
They came to find and experience the presence of Christ wherever they went.
Wherever they went, whatever they did, he was already there – ahead of them.
Like the apostles, like those women early in the morning on that first Easter,
we usually fail to recognize the living Lord and his restoring power for our lives,
because we look in the wrong places.
[Why do you look among the dead, for the one who lives?]
When we seek the living Lord among the dead, as they did, what we do here and what we celebrate is little more than a history lesson.
Brothers and sisters in Christ, what Easter proclaims is that Jesus refuses to stay buried,
refuses to stay undercover,
refuses to stay entombed,
refuses to stay in the container.
He keeps getting out of the tombs in which we keep trying to bury him.
It would be much more comfortable if we didn’t have this to deal with, wouldn’t it?
We keep trying to put Jesus in a box, don’t we? – a tomb –
like the Jews tried to keep their God in a box.
But, it didn’t work for them.
And it doesn’t work for us.
A preacher-friend told me a story about his little league days.
In 1953 there just four teams in his little town.
Their uniforms were just baseball caps and T-shirts dyed different colors.
They didn’t have much of a playing field –
there was barely discernable grass in the outfield, and there was nothing defining the base paths –
except for chalk lines down the first and third base lines.
He remembers playing two and three games a day on that beaten lot.
And every single time they played, he remembers Jack being there.
Jack was a man of no last name,
but Jack was the faithful soul who was always there and always laid down the chalk base lines for every game.
It didn’t take long for the chalk lines to be obliterated, but Jack would remark the lines after the third inning of each game to ensure the integrity of the playing field.
He said, “Jack, the chalk man was always there to mark the baselines of our play.”
And I thought, you know, that’s what this Risen Christ is always doing:
lining the pathways for us to follow.
He establishes the pathways between human beings and God,
pathways that are frequently obliterated by the struggling enthusiasm, and stubborn resistance of people like you and me.
The Risen Christ opens passages of love among people,
among cultures,
among nations again and again.
It happens when people feel the deep conviction of the love of Christ in their lives and know that they live under the command to share the gospel story of love.
There is a Gaelic legend that tells about an eagle swooping down and carrying a little baby off to his lofty nest up as high as the eagle could go on top of the mountain.
Needless to say, the people of the village were extremely upset about this.
And the strongest of the young villagers chased after the eagle.
They tried to scale the high rugged cliff to reach the eagle’s nest on top.
But, alas, one by one, each of the rugged young men fails.
Each one starts to lag.
Each one starts to draw back.
And as they languish, they see a thin young woman coming up the steep cliff behind them,
slowly and deliberately, finally overtaking them,
and even passing them, and going on to reach the nest on top.
The eagle is not there.
The baby is – and appears unhurt.
She picks up the baby, carefully wraps him up in her shawl and starts down the treacherous precipice carrying the unharmed baby in her shawl.
Needless-to-say, the men were astounded.
They asked, “How can you do that? – when we failed?”
And she tells them her secret: “I’m the baby’s mother.”
The point is that she had a conviction in her heart and soul which propelled her up the cliff to reclaim her child.
And that’s what Easter does for us.
That’s why we celebrate Easter each year at this time.
That’s why we celebrate Easter each and every Sunday when we gather in here in worship.
Easter is a conviction that says that something extraordinary is loose in our world, and compels us to live our lives into glory.
Christ is alive!
Christ is present today.
We see it again and again. If we only look.
If we only use the senses that have been given to us.
We encounter the presence of Christ through people who are ready to help one another through difficult times.
We encounter the presence of Christ through those who care for one another.
We encounter the presence of Christ through those who work for justice and are willing to protect the sacred rights of every person.
We encounter the presence of Christ among people who seek peace with a fervent desire to live in a world that is transformed by human action and divine love.
We encounter the presence of Christ with people who joyfully share the gift of love no matter the circumstance or cost.
And the kicker is, friends, you and I are called to be those people –
each and every one of us, is called to be –
helpers,
caregivers,
protectors of justice,
pursuers of peace
and witnesses to God’s love at work in the world.
You can look all you want among the dead for the one who lives.
But, you’ll never find the Christ there.
The direction was given to those women on that first Easter morning –
and the direction is given to you and me –
“He is not here.
He has been raised.
Go back to where you came from.
Go back to the communities, to the streets and byways where you live your lives.
That’s where you will find him.”
It’s a new world now.
It’s a new day!
There are new rules to play by!
Joy to the world!
Joy to you this Easter day!
Amen.
The congregation of Christ Presbyterian Church in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, USA, heard this sermon during a worship service on Easter Sunday, March 31, 2013.
Tuesday, April 9, 2013
Demonstrating Your Faith
True religion is not unlike the circus.
It offers mystery, miracle, risk, and a glow that lingers through the years.
"When they ask what happened here,
We'll simply say Christ came by and we learned his dance..."
The Christ we remember riding into Jerusalem that Palm Sunday long ago,
the Christ we experience and know to be with us today in thick and in thin,
the Christ we call Lord,
is the Lord of the Dance,
the Lord of all that is our life.
Parades seem to have a way of stirring up emotions and releasing us from inhibitions, don’t they?
(I believe that is one of the main motivating factors for those who participate in the Mummers Day Parade each year.)
It's what we see in Marti Gras parades.
And it's what we see happening in our scripture reading today.
Contrary to some of the movies you have seen,
not every one in Jerusalem participated in the parade that day.
To be sure, most people didn't know anything was going on –
or hadn't a clue what it was about if they did see it happening.
It would have been not unlike a demonstration on Broad Street that tied up traffic during rush hour some day.
Unless you were there, and encountered the crowds, you wouldn't even have known what had happened.
And even if you were there, chances are you wouldn't have had a clue as what they were protesting, or celebrating.
But the parade into Jerusalem turned into one of the most significant events in the lives of the first century Christians.
In Jesus Christ, Superstar, the crowd sings a telling line:
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
Know, that even then, the waving of palm branches is not exactly prescribed behavior.
They even took the clothes off their backs, laid them on the donkey,
and even spread them on the road for the donkey to walk on!
There was no parade manual providing direction for that –
no required rehearsals for the participants.
Yet, there was no hesitation about giving up their garments,
no wondering,
no debate as to whether there might be a cheaper, more dignified way to show love and respect.
They just did it.
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
Now, I have a hunch that you and I most probably would have reacted on that day pretty much like the Presbyterians we are.
If we were there,
and if we knew what was going on,
we would have been on the sidelines watching the parade, wouldn’t we? –
perhaps even thinking condescending thoughts about those that were getting carried away.
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
Each year, we hear this story.
And each year it is harder for us to really relate to it.
But the message for us today is clear: "Lighten up!"
Like those who participated in the parade, lighten up . . . .
lighten up . . . . to love and laughter!
Be open and flexible enough to meet any glory that happens to come our way –
any passing parade – wherever, whenever.
Bend with it. Bend to it.
You know, it seems that we tend to stay underwhelmed because we refuse to be overwhelmed by the incredible good news of the gospel.
Too many of us live by the depressing dictum:
"Expect the worse, and you'll never be disappointed."
But, friends, that is most unChristian.
Sins of inertia are far harder to overcome than any mistakes of passion.
Seize the moment,
even if it makes us late –
or truant – for something else.
When Zacchaeus of Jericho heard that Jesus was coming to town, he shut down his tax office and climbed a tree, and that day changed his whole life.
"Christ, you know I loved you. Did you see I waved?"
Remember that Martha was so intent on keeping the meal on schedule that she missed an unrepeatable opportunity to enjoy the company of Jesus.
Stop apologizing for spontaneous celebrations.
We say, "Sorry, I was beside myself,"
or "I just got carried away."
Some of you may remember the philosopher’s (Soren Kierkegaard's) story of the geese sequestered in a yard.
Every seventh day these geese paraded to a corner of the yard, and their most eloquent orator got up on the fence and spoke of the wonders of geese.
He told of the exploits of their forefathers who dared to mount up on wings and fly all over the sky.
He spoke of the mercy of the creator who had given geese wings – and the instinct to fly.
This deeply impressed the geese, who nodded their heads solemnly.
All this they did.
Every week they would gather and hear this story over and over and over again.
One thing they did not do, though:
they did not fly.
They did not fly for the corn was good,
and the barnyard was safe and secure.
However brief and passing it was, Palm Sunday provided people with a chance to fly.
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
There is a story about a boy who wanted very much to go to the circus.
However, the circus was only to be in town one day, Sunday, and his mother, who always insisted on a proper observance of the Lord's day, was reluctant to let him go.
Finally, she gave in to his pleadings and the boy was permitted to see the circus, this one time!
After the show was over the boy returned home, and his mother asked what he thought of the show.
With visions of daring young men on the flying trapeze, and elephants, and clowns still in his head, the boy replied, "Mama, if you ever get to go to the circus, just once, you'll never want to go to church again!..."
After telling this story, a commentator writes:
"In fact, the circus analogy is not altogether out of place with regard to the church.
True worship is a grand celebration,
properly accompanied by excitement and prospects of abiding joy...
true religion is not unlike the circus.
It offers mystery, miracle, risk, and a glow that lingers through the years."
In a poem about Palm Sunday, Ann Weems
suggests:
"When they ask what happened here,
We'll simply say
Christ came by and we learned his dance..."
And then, turning as if to speak to each of us, she
asks:
Are you a dancer who's never danced?
Are you a singer who's never sung?
Are you a laugher who holds it in?
Are you a weeper who's afraid to cry?
Are you someone who cares, but is afraid to love?
Do you have an alleluia deep inside you growing
rusty?
One writer said, "if we left it to the Spirit,
there would be nothing in the church but Jesus and
dancing.
That's right.
If we left it to the spirit,
there would be only the Way and the celebrating.
The Love and the alleluias.
The Living and the joy.
The Gift and the thank you.
The Song and the singing.
The Dance and the dancing.
The Good News and the shouting.
But do we believe it?"
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
(Maybe there's more.)
The Christ we remember riding into Jerusalem
that Palm Sunday long ago,
the Christ we experience and know to be with us today in thick and in thin,
the Christ we call Lord,
is the Lord of the Dance,
the Lord of all that is our life.
To you and to me, on this Palm Sunday, the message is:
to Lighten up.
Dance your dance.
Sing your song.
Laugh out loud.
For the Lord is coming.
The Lord is here!
Hosanna!
Alleluia!
Amen.
The congregation of Christ Presbyterian Church in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, USA, experienced this sermon during a worship service on Palm Sunday, March 24, 2013.
It offers mystery, miracle, risk, and a glow that lingers through the years.
"When they ask what happened here,
We'll simply say Christ came by and we learned his dance..."
The Christ we remember riding into Jerusalem that Palm Sunday long ago,
the Christ we experience and know to be with us today in thick and in thin,
the Christ we call Lord,
is the Lord of the Dance,
the Lord of all that is our life.
Parades seem to have a way of stirring up emotions and releasing us from inhibitions, don’t they?
(I believe that is one of the main motivating factors for those who participate in the Mummers Day Parade each year.)
It's what we see in Marti Gras parades.
And it's what we see happening in our scripture reading today.
Contrary to some of the movies you have seen,
not every one in Jerusalem participated in the parade that day.
To be sure, most people didn't know anything was going on –
or hadn't a clue what it was about if they did see it happening.
It would have been not unlike a demonstration on Broad Street that tied up traffic during rush hour some day.
Unless you were there, and encountered the crowds, you wouldn't even have known what had happened.
And even if you were there, chances are you wouldn't have had a clue as what they were protesting, or celebrating.
But the parade into Jerusalem turned into one of the most significant events in the lives of the first century Christians.
In Jesus Christ, Superstar, the crowd sings a telling line:
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
Know, that even then, the waving of palm branches is not exactly prescribed behavior.
They even took the clothes off their backs, laid them on the donkey,
and even spread them on the road for the donkey to walk on!
There was no parade manual providing direction for that –
no required rehearsals for the participants.
Yet, there was no hesitation about giving up their garments,
no wondering,
no debate as to whether there might be a cheaper, more dignified way to show love and respect.
They just did it.
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
Now, I have a hunch that you and I most probably would have reacted on that day pretty much like the Presbyterians we are.
If we were there,
and if we knew what was going on,
we would have been on the sidelines watching the parade, wouldn’t we? –
perhaps even thinking condescending thoughts about those that were getting carried away.
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
Each year, we hear this story.
And each year it is harder for us to really relate to it.
But the message for us today is clear: "Lighten up!"
Like those who participated in the parade, lighten up . . . .
lighten up . . . . to love and laughter!
Be open and flexible enough to meet any glory that happens to come our way –
any passing parade – wherever, whenever.
Bend with it. Bend to it.
You know, it seems that we tend to stay underwhelmed because we refuse to be overwhelmed by the incredible good news of the gospel.
Too many of us live by the depressing dictum:
"Expect the worse, and you'll never be disappointed."
But, friends, that is most unChristian.
Sins of inertia are far harder to overcome than any mistakes of passion.
Seize the moment,
even if it makes us late –
or truant – for something else.
When Zacchaeus of Jericho heard that Jesus was coming to town, he shut down his tax office and climbed a tree, and that day changed his whole life.
"Christ, you know I loved you. Did you see I waved?"
Remember that Martha was so intent on keeping the meal on schedule that she missed an unrepeatable opportunity to enjoy the company of Jesus.
Stop apologizing for spontaneous celebrations.
We say, "Sorry, I was beside myself,"
or "I just got carried away."
Some of you may remember the philosopher’s (Soren Kierkegaard's) story of the geese sequestered in a yard.
Every seventh day these geese paraded to a corner of the yard, and their most eloquent orator got up on the fence and spoke of the wonders of geese.
He told of the exploits of their forefathers who dared to mount up on wings and fly all over the sky.
He spoke of the mercy of the creator who had given geese wings – and the instinct to fly.
This deeply impressed the geese, who nodded their heads solemnly.
All this they did.
Every week they would gather and hear this story over and over and over again.
One thing they did not do, though:
they did not fly.
They did not fly for the corn was good,
and the barnyard was safe and secure.
However brief and passing it was, Palm Sunday provided people with a chance to fly.
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
There is a story about a boy who wanted very much to go to the circus.
However, the circus was only to be in town one day, Sunday, and his mother, who always insisted on a proper observance of the Lord's day, was reluctant to let him go.
Finally, she gave in to his pleadings and the boy was permitted to see the circus, this one time!
After the show was over the boy returned home, and his mother asked what he thought of the show.
With visions of daring young men on the flying trapeze, and elephants, and clowns still in his head, the boy replied, "Mama, if you ever get to go to the circus, just once, you'll never want to go to church again!..."
After telling this story, a commentator writes:
"In fact, the circus analogy is not altogether out of place with regard to the church.
True worship is a grand celebration,
properly accompanied by excitement and prospects of abiding joy...
true religion is not unlike the circus.
It offers mystery, miracle, risk, and a glow that lingers through the years."
In a poem about Palm Sunday, Ann Weems
suggests:
"When they ask what happened here,
We'll simply say
Christ came by and we learned his dance..."
And then, turning as if to speak to each of us, she
asks:
Are you a dancer who's never danced?
Are you a singer who's never sung?
Are you a laugher who holds it in?
Are you a weeper who's afraid to cry?
Are you someone who cares, but is afraid to love?
Do you have an alleluia deep inside you growing
rusty?
One writer said, "if we left it to the Spirit,
there would be nothing in the church but Jesus and
dancing.
That's right.
If we left it to the spirit,
there would be only the Way and the celebrating.
The Love and the alleluias.
The Living and the joy.
The Gift and the thank you.
The Song and the singing.
The Dance and the dancing.
The Good News and the shouting.
But do we believe it?"
"Christ, you know I love you. Did you see I waved?"
(Maybe there's more.)
The Christ we remember riding into Jerusalem
that Palm Sunday long ago,
the Christ we experience and know to be with us today in thick and in thin,
the Christ we call Lord,
is the Lord of the Dance,
the Lord of all that is our life.
To you and to me, on this Palm Sunday, the message is:
to Lighten up.
Dance your dance.
Sing your song.
Laugh out loud.
For the Lord is coming.
The Lord is here!
Hosanna!
Alleluia!
Amen.
The congregation of Christ Presbyterian Church in Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania, USA, experienced this sermon during a worship service on Palm Sunday, March 24, 2013.
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