Easter Sunday Sermon 2014

Easter Sunday Sermon 2014

Matthew 28:1-10

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

If Mary Magdalene and the other Mary visited a cemetery in Illinois this Easter morning, they might expect to see a snowdrift blocking the entrance of the tomb. This has been a long, hard winter, dear friends. I don’t know about you, but I’m so accustomed to seeing snowflakes in the forecast that I could scarcely believe it when I saw a number with a “7” at the front predicted for Easter Sunday. But it’s true! The winter is past, the dark days are over, spring is here!

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!

The women went to the tomb early that morning with clear expectations of what they would see: Not a snowdrift, but certainly a stone blocking the entrance. Guards keeping watch for thieving disciples. And darkness, slowly giving way to the light of dawn—just enough light to see the tomb where their beloved Jesus had been laid. 

The two Marys expected death to have all the power that morning, just as we expect winter to continue its indefinite reign. But when they arrived at the tomb, the women saw instead something entirely unexpected: An angel in white, descending from heaven in a flash of lightning, and by the power of God rolling the stone away and opening the tomb! Suddenly, it was the guards who were like dead men, paralyzed by fear. This was an earth-shaking, game-changing moment, as God’s power was shown to be greater than death’s power. The angel rolled away that ugly stone—the symbol of every power and principality, every system of oppression, every cancer, every sin, every monument to death and destruction—and he sat on it. Sisters and brothers, hear again the Good News, that because Christ has been raised, the mighty obstacles in our lives—even mighty death—have been stripped of their power, and today are no more than resting places for angels.

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!

By the power of God, and by God’s authority, the unexpected angel rolled away the stone and opened the tomb, revealing that Jesus was no longer there. But his work wasn’t done! Angels are messengers, and this one had a message for the two Marys. So he opened with the standard angelic greeting: “Do not be afraid!”

Angels are always doing this, have you noticed? Throughout the Scriptures, whenever an angel appears, he tells us not to fear. There’s no introduction, no handshake, and no small talk, just:

“Don’t be afraid, Zechariah…your wife Elizabeth is going to have a baby.”

“Don’t be afraid, Mary…you’re going to have God’s baby!”

“Don’t be afraid, Joseph…your fiancée is having God’s baby, and he’s going to save the world from all its sins!”

It strikes me as an odd way to start a conversation, a little like saying: “Now, whatever you do, DON’T think of the Easter Bunny.”…

There, you just thought about the Easter Bunny, didn’t you? My work is done here.

Then again, the sudden appearance of angels could be a bit scary, especially when they’re buff enough to move big stones around. Perhaps acknowledging that fact up front can’t hurt! So this angel in white begins the conversation in the usual way, announcing “Do not be afraid!” And then he gets right to the point: “I know you’re looking for Jesus who was crucified. He’s not here! You can take a quick look at where he was last night, but then you need to go. Go, quickly, and tell the disciples that Jesus has been raised! In fact, he’s already gone on ahead of you, and is waiting for you in Galilee.

Jesus. Isn’t. Here. Now go!”

Nothing to be afraid of, right? Just a little angel. Just a little announcement. Just a little mission from God…nothing to fear here.

Then again, unexpected things and big announcements can be scary. I know a little something about this, since in my family (and here at Bethany) we’re preparing for the fact that Robert, Caleb, Zion and I are moving—not just around the corner, but to Jerusalem, to work with ELCA Global Mission.  

While this is exciting news, it’s also scary, for all sorts of reasons. And like Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of Jesus on that Easter morning, I find myself hanging out at the tomb a lot these days, thinking about what was, and wishing things didn’t have to change.

But as we’ve heard, angels come at unexpected times, and I had one visit me this week. Actually, his name is Matthew, and he’s our five year old neighbor. Just like the angel in today’s Gospel, Matthew wastes no time on niceties or introductions when he visits.

The other day, he walked right on in my front door and said: “Do you have any more Hot Wheels?”

You see, Matthew has been the primary beneficiary of our deep cleaning in preparation for the big move. I would estimate he’s received around 150 Hot Wheels cars already, not to mention a box of books, several winter coats, and a remote control truck.

On this day, however, I wasn’t too excited about entering our dark and messy crawlspace to look for Hot Wheels for Matthew. After all…it was Holy Week. There was plenty for this pastor to do! And besides, I was pretty sure there weren’t any Hot Wheels left anyway.

“Matt, I’m not going down there right now. Maybe another day.”

“Miss Carrie, go down there now. I think there might be some cars.”

“Matt, I said, I have other things to do. And there are no more cars.”

“No, Miss Carrie, go down there! There might be Legos.”

“Matt, I told you…another day.  I’m busy.”

“Miss Carrie, let’s go. This is important. I’ll go with you.” And just like that, we were marching down the stairs and into the crawlspace—the resting place for all forgotten toys—to look for Hot Wheels.

I suppose the most expected ending to this story would be the discovery of a forgotten stash of tiny metal cars. Alas, no such luck, for Matthew or for the hearers of this sermon! But we did find a robot, and a whoopie cushion, and a marshmallow shooter.

And I discovered something else. I discovered that one reason I was reluctant to go downstairs, and to check in that crawlspace, is that part of me wanted to hang on to what was. Part of me wanted to keep those little plastic things right where they were, because they reminded me of my kids when they were little, and of the happy times we had in our house, and of all that we’re leaving behind here at Bethany and in this country. Part of me wanted to prop a stone up in front of that crawlspace and keep the door shut, rather than let it be opened and see what comes next, because I was afraid.

That’s a lot of meaning to pack into one dark crawlspace, don’t you think? But as I watched my unexpected angel, Matthew, joyfully skip across the street with his robot, whoopee cushion, and marshmallow shooter, what I saw was joy, and resurrection, and new life. I was reminded that we need those angels who are always on message, persistent in reminding us: “Don’t be afraid!” We need to hear, again and again (and not just on Easter morning): “That big stone you’re worried about? It’s already been moved. Death and its supposed power? It’s already been defeated. That tomb where you’re sitting vigil? It’s empty. Because Jesus is not here! He’s gone on ahead of you, and will meet you in Galilee. Now go, quickly, and share the Good News!”

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

My dear people, life often brings unexpected, earth-shaking news. We find ourselves at the tomb of a loved one—or at the chemo clinic, or the divorce lawyer, or the unemployment office. We’re faced with changes that make our stomachs hurt and our hearts ache and require more risk and faith than we’d like to expend. We might even be on the road, following where God is leading, and the world keeps throwing stones in our path. In these moments, death seems to be reality, while resurrection seems an unlikely dream. The obstacles in front of us—and the guards sent to protect them—appear too massive and too permanent.

But we are not afraid! We are not afraid, for we know that Jesus, who was crucified, goes ahead of us. We are not afraid, because Jesus, who was raised, is waiting for us in Galilee. And Jesus, who loved us to the end—all the way to the cross—might just meet us on the road for a little extra encouragement. And when he does, he will be right on message, along with all the heavenly host, proclaiming “REJOICE! And do not be afraid!”

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, alleluia! 

Sermon for the 5th Sunday in Lent: April 6, 2014

5^th Sunday in Lent: April 6, 2014

John 11:1-45 The Raising of Lazarus

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith

"Lord, this stinketh."

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

I heard a news story this week about a university student in Nebraska who has created a cologne called “Eau de Death”. Apparently, this chemistry post-doc has figured out how to combine three chemicals which, when mixed together, closely mimic the smell of rotting flesh. Now, aside from wondering why your pastor is beginning her sermon this way, you might be wondering how this cologne would ever be useful. I’m so glad you asked! It would be very useful, says the inventor, in the event of a zombie apocalypse, because we all know from the movies that zombies only eat living people. The stink of “Eau de death” would act therefore, as a sort of “Off” spray, except it would keep away the walking dead instead of mosquitos. 

“Eau de Death” caught my attention this week for sure. And, in fact, this story is strangely related to a few verses of this week’s Gospel lesson which I could not get out of my head! In fact, I found myself going back to the King James Version of the Bible (a rare occurrence indeed) because these verses are even better in that translation. Hear again the Gospel according to John, the eleventh chapter:

38 Jesus therefore again groaning in himself cometh to the grave. It was a cave, and a stone lay upon it. 39 Jesus said, Take ye away the stone. Martha, the sister of him that was dead, saith unto him, Lord, by this time he stinketh: for he hath been dead four days.

Friends, this week, the words of Martha, sister of Lazarus, have been on my lips as well: “Lord…this stinketh.”

It stinks to share the news that I will be leaving this summer to serve in global mission in Jerusalem. It stinks to say good-bye to people I love. It stinks for you, to know you will not only have to say goodbye to me and my family, but also hello to yet another pastor. It stinks for Pastor Paul and the rest of the staff, too. Even though we trust in God to provide, and even though we believe in the call of God through the church, this week many of us at Bethany Lutheran are a bit like Martha of Bethany, standing in front of Jesus with our arms crossed, saying “Lord, this stinketh.”

This stinketh indeed! In John chapter 11, what stinks is Lazarus, who has been dead for four days. But Mary and Martha are pretty sure Jesus stinks, too. Both sisters confront him with the fact that he didn’t come when they called, but decided to wait around for two days with his friends: “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died!” Now, Lazarus is dead, and he’s starting to smell. The whole situation stinks.

Martha and Mary were certain that because Lazarus already stinketh, there was nothing Jesus could do about it now. But we know, of course, that Jesus did do something about it. He may have been a couple days late, but Jesus rolled the stone away from the tomb, prayed to God the Father, and then called in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” And Lazarus, stinky Lazarus, walked out of the tomb. In spite of the unbelieving disciples, in spite of the man’s angry sisters, in spite of the stone blocking the entrance to the tomb, and in spite of the fact that he had already been dead for four days and was starting to stink, Jesus raised a dead man to life. Thanks be to God!

The raising of Lazarus is a miracle, and in the Gospel of John it is the last of a series of signs meant to prove that Jesus speaks and acts with God’s authority. Jesus tells the disciples plainly why he did not go immediately to Bethany: “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe.” Feeding the five thousand, turning water into wine, and healing the blind man—these were all impressive. But raising a dead man to life, especially if he was so dead he was starting to smell, removed any question about who this Jesus really was. It also removed any question about what would happen to Jesus next, for this event caught the attention of the authorities, and set in motion his trial, conviction, and public execution on the cross.

Many people who were there that day came to believe. And for us today, the raising of Lazarus is still a powerful proclamation that “Eau de death” may keep away zombies, but nothing keeps Jesus from raising the dead to new life. Sin and guilt, fear and death stink to high heaven, it’s true! But Jesus is the resurrection and the life, and he stands at the door of every tomb calling in a loud voice: “Lazarus, come out!”

Sisters and brothers, this is Good News we all need to hear, because we spend way too much time and effort trying to mask the evidence of sin and death. We may scoff at “Eau de Death”, but we’d be the first in line to purchase “Eau de Perfection” and especially “Sinless #5”. We don’t want anyone to know how bad we really stink, or how much help we need, or how hopeless we feel, least of all God. So we cover up the smell, wrap ourselves tightly, and stay hidden away from the attacking hoards of “perfect people” we’re certain are just outside the door. Little do we know, those supposed “perfect people” are just as unreal as zombies, and the only one standing outside our door is Jesus. When we’re in our darkest place, it’s always Jesus who comes near, and he’s there not to condemn, or to turn his nose up at the smell of our humanity and our mortality, but to bring what he always brings: life, life, and more life. Where Jesus is, there is life. Where Jesus speaks, there is life. Where Jesus acts, there is life! “I am the resurrection and the life” he proclaims. The cross of Christ has defeated the power of sin and death to remove anyone from life with God.

Earlier this week, before I made my big announcement to the congregation, I had a long conversation with a church member. His is a story that bears repeating, and in fact, he’s given me permission to share it with you today, as a testimony to the power of Jesus to raise the dead.

Our brother Ray enlisted in the Army shortly after World War II. He signed up because he wanted to go to college, and his family could only afford to send his older sister. It was 1949. With the war over, the Army seemed like a great way to earn money for college and get some experience in the world.

He could never have guessed that our country would soon be in another conflict, this time in Korea. While there, he did what soldiers are trained to do: he killed people. The first one, he told me, he remembers in painful detail. He’s not sure how many came after that, and he wouldn’t want to count. He did what the government trained him to do. He did his job.

When he came home from Korea, Ray went on with life. He got married, raised a family, and worked hard. He had always been a believer, and while he may not have made it to church every Sunday, he was especially involved with the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. Everything seemed fine on the outside. Ray gave off the aroma of being a family man, a patriot, and especially a man of faith.

But Ray had a secret! For more than 50 years, he had been covering up what he thought was an odor even God could not stomach. For 50 years, Ray lived in fear that God would not, in fact could not, forgive him for what he did as a soldier. Didn’t Scripture say “Thou shalt not kill?” Didn’t Jesus say “not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished…Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven?” These words kept him bound up by guilt and wrapped tight with fear. Ray seemed to have it all together, but in reality he was the walking dead. A zombie. He was Lazarus in the tomb, not for four days, but for five decades. And it hath stinketh.

But then, not too long ago, something happened. Jesus called out to him again. He said, “Ray, come out!” Actually, the way Ray tells it, it happened when he finally shared his fears and instead of condemnation, he heard these words: “Ray, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. You have nothing to fear. In Christ, you are forgiven. You have always been forgiven.”

True, he had heard these words before. Who knows why these words made a difference on this day, in this conversation, with this particular person! All that matters is that this time, he knew he was forgiven. This time, his dry bones came together, and flesh came upon them, and skin covered them, and his breath returned to him. In Christ, our brother Ray was raised from death to life. It was his 81st birthday.

Dear friends, I started this sermon declaring that we are all Marthas, standing at the tomb and complaining about the stench. But the truth is, every one of us is also Lazarus, and sometimes we just stink. Sometimes, life stinks too! But hear again the Good News: there is nothing in this world-- neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come; not our fear of the future; not our past mistakes or our inability to accept forgiveness; not our unbelief or anything else in all creation—that is able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Jesus is the resurrection and the life, and all who believe, even though they die, shall live. Jesus is enough. So come out, Lazarus! Come out and live. Amen.

5th Sunday of Easter; April 28, 2013

5^th Sunday of Easter, April 28, 2013

Psalm 148; John 13:31-35; Revelation 21:1-6

PREACHER: Pastor Carrie Smith 

A few minutes ago you heard the Confirmation students’ updated, “Mad Libs” version of Psalm 148. Now, let’s read together Psalm 148 as it is printed in your Celebrate insert:

¹Hallelujah! Praise the LORD ^| from the heavens;

     praise God ^| in the heights.

²Praise the LORD, ^| all you angels;

     sing praise, all you ^| hosts of heaven.

³Praise the LORD, ^| sun and moon;

     sing praise, all you ^| shining stars.

⁴Praise the LORD, heav- ^| en of heavens,

     and you waters a- ^| bove the heavens.

⁵Let them praise the name ^| of the LORD,

     who commanded, and they ^| were created,

⁶who made them stand fast forev- ^| er and ever,

     giving them a law that shall not ^| pass away.   R

⁷Praise the LORD ^| from the earth,

     you sea monsters ^| and all deeps;

⁸fire and hail, ^| snow and fog,

     tempestuous wind, do- ^| ing God's will;

⁹mountains ^| and all hills,

     fruit trees ^| and all cedars;

¹⁰wild beasts ^| and all cattle,

     creeping things and ^| flying birds;

¹¹sovereigns of the earth ^| and all peoples,

     princes and all rulers ^| of the world;

¹²young ^| men and maidens,

     old and ^| young together.   R

¹³Let them praise the name ^| of the LORD,

     whose name only is exalted, whose splendor is over ^| earth and heaven.

¹⁴The LORD has raised up strength for the people

and praise for all ^| faithful servants,

     the children of Israel, a people who are near the LORD. ^| Hallelujah!   R

I had a few other sermon ideas in the works this week, but yesterday morning, as I walked my puppy Charlie around the neighborhood, all I could say to myself was “Praise the Lord!” Praise the Lord, the sun is out! Praise the Lord, I’m not wearing a wool sweater! Praise the Lord, it’s spring! Praise the Lord, God is finally doing a new thing! Amen!

As I walked, my mind kept going back to the psalm for today, Psalm 148, which invites everything—from humans to sea monsters, from the sun and moon to fire and hail—to praise God. It’s an invitation, not a command: and yet it’s clear that in the psalmist’s opinion, whoever we are, whatever we are doing, we should be about the business of praising God.

Music is probably the first thing we think of when we want to praise God, and whether we consider ourselves musically talented or not, many of us learned to praise God with singing from the time we were little. Let’s test it out a bit. I’ll sing the first phrase, and you finish it:

Praise him, praise him, all ye little children….(God is love, God is love!)

Praise him, Praise him….(praise him in the morning, praise him in the noontime.)

Hallelu, hallelu, hallelu, hallelujah…(praise ye the Lord!)

(I will remind you that the Bethany choir meets on Wednesday nights at 7:30 pm…)

Music is most certainly a wonderful way to praise God, and we can look to the great Lutheran musician Johann Sebastian Bach as an example of putting one’s gifts to work for that purpose. In fact, Bach’s life motto was “Soli Deo Gloria” , which means “to the glory of God alone.” Bach proclaimed that all the music we wrote was written to honor God, not himself.  This is saying a lot, considering he wrote new music nearly every week for his job as church organist! That’s a lot of praise!

On the other hand, Bach also allegedly said, “Bring me a bowl of coffee before I turn into a goat.”

So, apparently, even J.S. Bach didn’t feel much like praising God until he had had his morning cup of coffee, which makes me feel considerably better about myself.

And this gets me to the next point, which may very well be what you are thinking right now:
“Praising God is all well and good, Pastor, but what if I don’t feel like singing praises? Never mind my lack of coffee or the lack of sunshine the last few weeks. What about the bombings in Boston, the explosion in Texas, the building collapse in Bangladesh, and the earthquake in China? What about the loss of our beloved Carol, whose funeral is tomorrow? How can we praise God in the midst of all this?”

If you’re thinking something along these lines this morning, you should at least know you’re not alone. We all struggle some days to praise God, especially when the world seems particularly un-praiseworthy. In fact, I wonder why this psalm was written. It could be that it was an especially beautiful spring day, like the one we had yesterday. It could be that the psalmist was walking in nature, as I was, and was inspired to write these beautiful words.
Or…it could be the psalmist was having an April like we just endured. Maybe these words weren’t written for the days when we have sunshine on our shoulders, but rather for the days when the sun seems a distant memory. Perhaps these words were written for when the rain and the cold, the violence and the loss in the world have taken away our “alleluias”. Maybe these words are both an invitation and a reminder to the creeping things and the flying things, to the trees and sea monsters and everything else, that life itself is a gift. That being part of this incredible creation is a miracle. That whoever you are, and whatever life brings you, you are to be about praising the One who created you. As it is written:

⁵Let them praise the name ^| of the LORD,

     who commanded, and they ^| were created,

⁶who made them stand fast forev- ^| er and ever,

     giving them a law that shall not ^| pass away.

Of course, this is easier for the sea monsters, cattle, fruit trees, and creeping things mentioned in this psalm. They don’t have much choice in praising God! The fire praises by burning. The creeping things praise by creeping. The sea monsters praise by swimming. And the hail…well, I don’t want to think about how hail praises God! But the point is, whether these creatures and elements of creation feel like it or not, they praise God. 

So what does that mean for us, God’s creatures who struggle with the blessing and curse of freedom, and of reason, and of feeling the weight of the world’s sorrows? How are we to praise God?

“Worship” is another way of saying “Praise God”, so I looked to pastor and author Frederick Buechner’s definition of “worship”. He writes:  

“To worship God means to serve him. Basically there are two ways to do it. One way is to do things for him that he needs to have done - run errands for him, fight on his side, feed his lambs, and so on. The other way is to do things for him that you need to do – sing songs for him, create beautiful things for him, give things up for him, tell him what’s on your mind and in your heart, in general rejoice in him and make a fool of yourself for him the way lovers have always made fools of themselves for the one they love.”  (“Wishful Thinking: A Theological ABC”, pp.97-98)

Love is the focus of the Gospel text for today, in which we heard again the words Jesus left with the disciples at the last supper: “As I have loved you, so you should love one another. By this they will know you are my disciples: if you have love for one another.” This is Jesus commanding us to be about the business of that first kind of praise—doing something for God that God needs to have done. “Little children, I am with you only a little while longer,” said Jesus. In his absence, God needs us to love the world the way he did.

Therefore, we praise God when we love each other the way Jesus first loved us. We praise God when we welcome sinners and tax collectors and Democrats and Republicans and tree-huggers and former Pentecostals and doubters and all the rest to eat the same bread and drink the same wine. We praise God when we challenge the powers-that-be for the sake of the poor and the oppressed and those with no voice. We praise God when we heal the sick and comfort the dying and wrap our arms around the grieving and the lonely. We praise God by loving each other, even when we happen to not like each other very much.

This kind of love is no easy task. Jesus makes it sound so easy, sitting there at the table with his friends! But when we read it today, we know just how hard it was. We know about the cross. We know about the suffering. We know about the tomb.

But we also know about the empty tomb, and Easter morning, and how Thomas touched the wounded hands and side, and how the disciples came to know Jesus on the walk to Emmaus. We know how hard it is to love someone to the end, because Jesus already did it!  But we also have seen that because he loved us to the end, death is no more. Mourning and crying and pain are no more, for the first things have passed away.

Jesus’ love for us is how it is that we, his disciples, can love one another even when it’s hard.  His love is why we can praise God even when the spring seems far off.

And his love is also why praising God is something we need to do. Like the trees and the birds and the sea monsters, we can’t help but sing songs, make art, dance, plant gardens, solve math problems, balance the books, and teach children. We can’t help but sing at the top of our lungs, like the guy I saw in the middle of the thrift store yesterday, belting out the choruses to every song on the radio, bless his heart! We can’t help but make fools of ourselves, out of love for the One who created springtime, who placed women like Carol in our lives, and who sent Jesus to be love-in-the-flesh.

Therefore, let all things that have breath, praise the Lord! Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia! 

Easter Sunday Sermon 2013

Easter Sunday Sermon: March 31, 2013

John 20:1-18

Preacher: Pastor Carrie Smith

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

As preparations were being made for this amazing Easter celebration, coordinating the details of all the volunteers and the music and the dancers that would make it a day worthy of the Good News of the resurrection, our organist Allison and I had a pretty unusual email exchange. 

Now the message I received said something like this:

“Pastor, Kristin and I want to do “Dinosaur Glory” for Easter Sunday. Is that ok?”

Dinosaur glory. Dinosaur glory… It took me several minutes, and then it came to me:

“Din-o-saur Glo-ry, risen and conquering Son…”

Yes, thank you, iPhone autocorrect for that laugh! And you’re welcome, my friends, because some of you will now be humming that tune throughout the rest of my sermon.

Now with that story in mind, you might be able to understand why I suspected some kind of conspiracy to confuse the pastor when, a few days later, I had the opportunity to teach the Bethany Preschool children about the resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ.

We sat right here on the step and I read from a story Bible about how Jesus, the Son of God, died on a cross out of love for us, and on the third day he rose again, which is what we celebrate on Easter. Things started out just fine, but very soon the conversation drifted to Easter bunnies. And then to chocolate. And then to chocolate eggs. And then to eggs in general, and finally…to dinosaur eggs. And suddenly, we were in the midst of a full-on discussion of dinosaurs and all their glory.

Now why do you suppose a conversation with preschoolers could move so quickly from the death and resurrection of Jesus to dinosaurs? Maybe it’s because they’re a bit mysterious. After all, we can’t see them, but we believe in them! Maybe because they’re larger than life, kind of like Jesus. Maybe…well maybe just because dinosaurs are AWESOME and so is Jesus! Amen?

There is perhaps no better way to experience anew the strangeness of the Easter story than to try and explain it to preschoolers. And on this beautiful morning, a morning when the flowers and bells, choirs and brass, the organ and dancers are all assembled to proclaim the joy of the resurrection, it’s easy to forget just how radical the message of Easter really is. After all, we are here to celebrate a story that most would say is unbelievable: that Jesus died, in front of his friends, in a public execution; that his body was laid in a tomb, and a large stone was rolled in front of the entrance; and that the third day, the first day of the week, he walked out of the tomb, very much alive!

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

The resurrection is unbelievably Good News. But if preschoolers so easily put the resurrection of Jesus into the same category as dinosaurs, then maybe we have a clue as to how unbelievable it really was for Mary, Peter, and the disciple Jesus loved, on that very first Easter.

The way the Gospel of John tells it, it was Mary Magdalene who was at the tomb that morning. It was still dark, but she could see enough to know the stone blocking the entrance to Jesus’ tomb had been moved. She was also smart enough to know not to hang around to see if the people who moved it were still lurking nearby! Instead, she ran to get Simon Peter and the beloved disciple, and she told them what she believed to be true: That someone had stolen Jesus’ body.

One by one, they each encountered the empty tomb—first Mary, then the disciple Jesus loved, and then Peter. And one by one, they each came to the same conclusion: Jesus had been taken from the tomb. All three of them believed, based on the evidence available, that the powers and principalities that had put Jesus in the tomb had now taken him away. It was a perfectly reasonable conclusion, based on what life had taught them so far: that fear, judgment, prejudice, and death always have the last word.  

It’s a conclusion we might come to, as well. After all, isn’t that what we’ve experienced? Isn’t that what the world has offered us so far? All around us, from Aurora to Newtown, from Syria to Chicago’s south side, from the halls of Congress to the children’s cancer ward, we have these facts to contend with: Violence no longer shocks us. Fear is our primary motivation. The gap between rich and poor, between healthy and uninsured, between those with a future and those without, gets larger by the day. And people we love dearly have died and are dying. Based on this information, an empty tomb is just that: an empty tomb. End of story.

And yet, here we are, on this Easter morning, celebrating with Christians around the globe the unbelievably Good News that the empty tomb was just the beginning!  We sing and pray and proclaim to all who will listen, that God has done something new! “In fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. And since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being…the last enemy to be destroyed is death.”

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, alleluia!

But just how do we come to believe the unbelievable? How do millions of people like you and me come to base their lives on this radical tale of resurrection and new life?

For Mary Magdalene, it happened when Jesus called her name.

She didn’t believe when she saw the stone rolled away. She didn’t believe when two angels all in white spoke to her from inside the tomb. And she didn’t even believe when a gardener—who looked strikingly like Jesus—popped up behind her and started asking her questions.

No…she believed the moment she heard that one word: “Mary.” Jesus spoke her name in love, and with that one word called her out of despair and into the resurrection life. This is, in fact, how each of us is called from death to life, from despair to joy, from unbelief to faithful proclamation. God calls us by name, and brings us to new life.

If it sounds too simple, I will tell you a story: I heard Jesus call my name once.

Yes, I said it: Jesus spoke to me. I know, I know, this isn’t the sort of thing a Lutheran generally shares in polite company, but it’s true. It was a terrible day; a day when I was on the way to the doctor’s office to receive what I was certain was bad news. In fact, I was so certain of this bad news that I had worked myself into an absolute mess: Not eating. Not sleeping. Google-diagnosing myself (never a good idea) and, by the time we got into the car, very nearly hyperventilating.

And then, it happened. Jesus called my name, plain as day, while I sat in the front seat of the car. And what he said was, “Carrie! It’s going to be ok.”

We might hope that if we were to receive a message from the divine it would be something a bit more eloquent or poetic. But at that moment, it was exactly what I needed to hear. I needed to know it would be ok—no matter what the news from the doctor turned out to be. I needed to hear Jesus calling me by name. And I needed to remember that my life—my resurrection life—was in his hands.

Sisters and brothers in Christ, we know that God calls each of us by name in baptism. Last night, we were blessed to witness that moment for five brand-new saints: Olivia, Brock, Brody, Corrine, and Nikolas. We rejoice that through water and the Word, these children of God have been called by name and have been made alive in Christ! Amen!

And on this Easter morning, it is my joy to proclaim to you that God does not stop speaking on the day of your baptism! Because he has been raised, Jesus continues to call you by name: through the Holy Scriptures, through prayer, through music and art and dance, through the liturgy, and especially in these few, powerful words: This is my body, given FOR YOU. This is my blood, shed FOR YOU. These words call us daily from death to life, from fear to joy, and from unbelief to faithful proclamation.

And now…back to dinosaurs.

No, really!

There are those who would call the church a dinosaur. It has been called, more than once, a relic of the past, unsustainable and irrelevant to the life of people today.

But, my dear people, as long as there are people who need to hear their names spoken in love; as long as there are those whose names even the church refuses to say out loud; as long as there are those who live in fear of death and have not heard the resurrection news; and until the Lord has destroyed every ruler and every authority and every power and has put all his enemies under his feet—the Church, my friends, is no dinosaur.

The Church of Jesus Christ is now, and ever will be, the living, breathing, always renewing, ever-reforming, resurrected body of Christ, sent into the world for the sake of others.

Join me, sisters and brothers, with Mary Magdalene and Peter and all the witnesses of the resurrection, and with the whole church across the world, in proclaiming to all who have ears to hear: I have seen the Lord!

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Easter Vigil Reflection on Matthew 28

EASTER VIGIL REFLECTION on Matthew 28:1-10

Preacher: Pastor Carrie Smith

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

^“So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples.”

Fear and joy, which at first seem quite unrelated, can sometimes become mingled into one stomach-churning emotion.

I think of the day when, at age 20, I boarded an airplane by myself and flew across the ocean to study in Germany for a year. I had never flown by myself, much less to another country. But there I was, fearfully and joyfully flying toward this new life, with all my belongings packed into one suitcase, and my hair teased and sprayed into an impressive 90’s “poof” that I was sure would be a hit in Europe. (It wasn’t!)

Fear and great joy also propelled me down the aisle of the church on my wedding day, and accompanied me in those first terrifying and exciting days of motherhood.

Maybe you can recall some of those fearful/joyful moments, too. Do you remember how it felt when you, the new kid, walked into school that first day? How about your first day without a drink; the first time you said “I love you” and really meant it; or your first day on the job? I’ll never forget walking through the door that said “Pastor’s office” at my first call, and how the fear and joy together nearly brought me to my knees.

Fear mixes with joy in these moments because new life is both exciting and scary. The old life is more manageable. We know it better! We feel comfortable there—even when the old life promises only dead-ends, disappointment, and death.

And this is why, after learning of the resurrection, the women at the tomb didn’t stand around joyfully singing “alleluia”, but instead ran away with both fear and great joy. This Good News, this new life, was a radical departure from anything they had ever known, and it sent Mary Magdalene and the other Mary running with mixed emotions from the empty tomb.

An angel had sent them on their way, of course, charging them with the responsibility to go quickly and share the Good News with the disciples. One could assume that’s what they intended to do. But perhaps Jesus knew how quickly fear can overtake even great joy, because partway down the path he suddenly appeared to the women.

As if they weren’t scared before, can you imagine what it was like to see Jesus suddenly popping up in the roadway? Pop goes the Savior! “Greetings!” he said. Subtlety really isn’t God’s strong suit…

But after the women had recovered, the very first words from the risen Christ are: “Do not be afraid.” 

Do not be afraid, he said. It really is me! Now go, and tell the others that you’ve seen me!

Alleluia, Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Romans chapter 6 proclaims: “We know that Christ, being raised from the dead, will never die again; death no longer has dominion over him. …So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” You, sisters and brothers, are alive in Christ Jesus. The resurrection life is your new life! And the first thing the risen Christ wants us to know about our new life in him is this: Do not be afraid.

Easy enough for him to say, right?

There will always be moments in life when fear is part of the equation. But what would it mean to live a life motivated not by fear, but by joy?

Too often, the Easter message comes across as “Christ is risen! Alleluia! Now go, quickly, and follow the rules! And try not to get into trouble!”

But what if living in the light of the resurrection isn’t about staying on the path, following the rules, or living in fear of each mistake?

What if the resurrection life liberates us to speak the truth, love generously, accept difference, embrace change, and remain open to possibilities? What if this new life releases us from living dangerously and frees us to take risks?

After all….What are you afraid of?

Embarrassment? Losing face or losing friends? Being seen as foolish? Being wrong? Or is it the fear of death that holds you back?

Sisters and brothers, the Good News of Easter liberates us from all these fears, especially the fear of death. Now that Jesus has broken the bonds of death and has been raised, we have nothing left to fear. “For if we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” From now on, no matter where life leads us—even through the valley of the shadow of death—we go with these words of Jesus ringing in our ears:  Be not afraid!

That’s what this night and this Easter Vigil liturgy is all about, after all.

From the creation to the flood, from the parting of the sea to the fiery furnace, the message is the same: Be not afraid! God is with you!

This is what we want our children to know deep in their hearts, isn’t it? This is why we teach them these stories! This is why we raise them in the church! This is why we sing these songs, pray these prayers, and gather at this table—so that our children and our children’s children will know they need not be afraid.

Tonight, as we celebrate with five brand–new saints who have come to be baptized into Christ, my hope is that they hear these words, loud and clear. 

And if they aren’t old enough to remember, then you, my sisters and brothers, will be promising in a few moments to share these words until they are written on their hearts:

Do not be afraid, Brock, because God created the whole world, and called it good—and that includes you!

Do not be afraid, Brody, because goodness is stronger than evil.

Do not be afraid, Nikolas, because with God all things are possible.

Do not be afraid, Corrine, because you are never alone. God is with you!

Do not be afraid, Olivia, because no matter what anyone else says, you will always be Olivia, Child of God.

Friends in Christ, children of God, Easter people, do not be afraid, for Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed, Alleluia!