Sermon Easter 1 (C)

 ALLELUIA!

Alleluia INDEED!

The Lord is Risen! Alleluia!

May his grace and peace be with us! May he fill our hearts with joy!

Oh yes, gentle people, today is the celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus, the Christ.

Today is the day that we get amazed by the living and Risen Lord!

Today is the day where we are all a little extra energised – and caffeinated, I bet. And there may be a bit of extra sugar in there too.

But: Mostly: we are energised and enthused because it is EASTER: A day when God has come into our lives with such commitment and confidence that we see the whole world differently.

And especially after a 2-year long Lent (thank you COVID), this Easter we are REALLY seeing things differently.

The world is still the same – but it’s also… different. Better!

Colours are brighter, aromas are more fragrant, the sunshine is more vibrant.

It is a good day.

It is a GREAT day!

It is a day to shout out the Alleluias

The world looks different.

So here’s a question for you…

Why does the world look different?

(Jesus! Usually when a preacher asks a question – the answer is Jesus. Especially at Easter!)

There are many ways that things can be the same but different.

A new coat of paint brightens up a building, a beam of light shining through stained glass projects colours everywhere.

Nothing has changed, but everything is different: if only we can see it.

One of the ways I can think to talk about this is to talk about stained glass. Our glass windows here are exquisite – they convey Biblical teachings to folks without words, they express emption in ways that words cannot.

And, we know, as with all things glass – they can sometimes break. (glass pieces)

And broken glass doesn’t mean the end: these pieces don’t look like they used to, but:

There’s new possibilities for broken glass.

Sometimes it can be put back together, and patterns re-created. (windows)

Sometimes smaller pieces can be connected in new ways to create an entirely new thing of beauty. (suncatcher)

And sometimes: even the smallest pieces are used to make something amazing.

Like in a kaleidoscope. (kaleidoscope)

My young friends – do you know what a kaleidoscope is?

It’s a tube – and inside there are a couple of mirrors, and a few very small pieces of different coloured glass. And when you look through the eye hole, you see patterns from the glass –

And the best part is, when you turn the tube, the glass shifts around – and a new pattern is there.

So every time you look into a kaleidoscope, you see a new beautiful pattern.

It’s never not beautiful; and it’s always a little bit different.

Even the name kaleidoscope – it comes from a few Greek words that mean “looking at beautiful forms.”

But if we just focus on the broken bits of glass, we miss out on the beauty.

And Easter is the celebration of eternal beauty in this life and the next.

Because: Jesus. A beautiful gift from God, that shared good news.

A gift that was broken; by corrupt empires and human sinfulness.

Yet from this brokenness, God gave the world a new way to see what is holy – what is beautiful.

In the resurrected Christ.

Jesus. (I told you – most sermon questions – the answer is Jesus!)

So Jesus! Risen! Alive! Changed!

And yet, entirely still the same.

This is the Jesus who was unrecognised by Mary, until he called her by name.

And she saw the world in a new way: with the love of God in her eyes.

And – she preached the shortest and most succinct Easter sermon EVER: “I have seen the Lord!”

This is the Jesus of whom Peter boasts about to Cornelius in Joppa, when he tells of baptism and ministry and miracle – and of death and resurrection – and of the forgiveness of sins.

And both Peter and his new companion saw the world in a new way: with the love of God in their eyes.

This is the Jesus of whom Paul writes to the church in Corinth, proclaiming the power of hope and the assurance of a shared resurrection: for the last enemy to be destroyed is death. What powerful witness to know that even our ultimate earthly end is just the beginning of life.

And Paul and the Corinthians saw the world in a new way: with the love of God in their eyes.

And in all these cases, and every Easter since, people have celebrated that the world looks a little bit different: brighter, happier, more colourful.

Because while the world may look the same, we see it differently:

And we can’t help but share the good news:

Because WE are different.

And so we act differently, we speak differently, we think differently:

coming from a place of being touched by the divine presence in our midst;

coming from the place that wants to see things as beauty-filled;

coming from the place that wants to see through the eyes of faith..

For the resurrection shows us God’s perfect love.

It amazes us, astounds us, awes us, and inspires us.

It gives us energy and hope; joy and jubilance!

It gives us the encouragement to see the beauty that God is always showing us, seeing the world in a new way: with the love of God in our eyes.

For it’s Easter.

And we are Easter people.

And together we proclaim that WE have seen the Lord.

For the Lord is risen; Christ is risen indeed.

Alleluia!

Sermon Easter Vigil

 The world can be a confusing place.

There are times for all of us when we are bewildered – confused – entirely baffled.

We do not understand what is happening.

And that’s normal: for all of us.

Yet: even when things are the most confusing, we come to God.

Because God can make sense out of anything.

And the Resurrection – the meaning of Easter – is truly something that goes beyond what our minds can comprehend.

And so we come to God:

Because God brings everything together.

There’s a totality with God: and that’s a theme throughout the readings today.

This holy night, where things that are logical don’t make sense, and things that are impossible are – in fact – real.

God brings it all together.

Sun and moon;

human and divine;

Light and dark;

ordinary and exceptional;

heaven and earth.

God brings it all together in a mystical totality that continues to amaze us.

The very way that we know the date of Easter is a connection between the solar and lunar calendars: for Easter falls on the first Sunday after the First Full Moon after the Spring Equinox. (It’s why it moves every year): And God brings them together for this most spectacular feast, that we participate in.

Then humanity and divinity are brought together – as all our readings tonight tell the story of God interacting with God’s people: from the very beginning of creation through the history of being God’s people: a history of faith that is ours, and that we continue even now.

And we start in darkness, and journey to light: the lighting of the new flame – symbolised here with our candles. The darkness of the world, and the light of Christ shining into it. And the darkness of the tomb and the brightness of the angelic messengers. God brings together light and dark this night.

The ordinary: some bread and wine; some water and oil. These normal things become extraordinary as we celebrate holy sacraments of baptism and eucharist: where the inconceivable presence of God becomes tangible: we touch and smell and taste the divine in these simple elements; by the grace of God alone.

The heavenly and the earthly are entirely interconnected: from the very beginning before creation – when nothing made sense – to the resurrection, where even Peter was left wondering what had happened. God is within every created thing – including us – and God’s love has touched every created thing – including us. And when God looks over all creation and declares it VERY good; God is not making a value judgement, but a statement of completion.

And so here we are: celebrating the totality of God in our midst: for God is here; connecting, combining, making complete all of those things that we see as opposite.

And we celebrate that with a covenant: a covenant that links us with the created order: for God never forgets the created world.

It’s a covenant that links us with each other: for God gifted us with a community to remind us that we are never alone.

And it’s a covenant that promises us the power of life over death; even when the limitations of this world seem to be an end; Jesus gives us a new beginning.

So tonight: we embrace the totality of God: in all things, at all times, with all people.

We are surrounded by all of those who have gone before us: knowing that their love still lives in us.

We are surrounded by all those who walk with us: as we support each other through whatever this life may give us.

We are surrounded by those who will come after us: having shared with them the good news of God: through the risen and living Christ.

With God, nothing is impossible: even when it’s confusing to us.

It’s what we call faith.

Faith that God is with us;

That God loves us.

That God has forgiven us.

And that God delights in our being part of the ongoing story.

This is the promise of Easter: that God’s love is total.

There’s nothing we can do to make God love us any more; there’s nothing we can do to make God love us any less.

It’s what the bible tells us;

It’s what our families and friends tell us;

It’s what Jesus tells us.

It’s what we tell the world when we say Happy Easter!

So let’s rejoice in the complete and perfect love of God, this Easter – and always.

Sermon Palm/Passion

 Well.

What a quick change we have in the scriptures today; as we move with haste from the celebration of the palms to the challenging reality of the crucifixion.

The mood changes from a celebration, a festival atmosphere, very quickly to the utmost in devastation and depravity.

What a journey.

And what a symbol we have for this rapid transition: palms.

Palm leaves: An interesting choice.

Because palm leaves – well, for the folks near Jerusalem, they were easily accessible. They were locally grown. They were handy.

And… they’re not really useful for anything else. They’re not a food source, they’re too floppy to be effective in a broom. They are too rough and pointy to be used as a mattress for sleeping. They don’t even burn well – so they can’t be used as fuel for cooking or heating the house.

Palms. They’re: well, basically, they’re weeds.

Disposable. Unimportant. After the triumphal entry into the city, they were just cast down to the earth again – not even worth taking home as a memento of the occasion.

Not unlike the detritus we see after a parade or street party – the stuff that we use for a minute or two then can’t even be bothered taking home. Because the party hasn’t changed us in any way, it was just a party.

What an image then for this journey into Jerusalem.

Because the crowds – well the crowds are gathered for a number of reasons. Some of them are following Jesus, waiting for him to start a revolution. Some of them are with him protesting the current political system; and some are advocating for a new one.

Some are there because it’s a party, and who doesn’t like to party?

Some are there with high expectations on Jesus; some with low; some I’ll bet don’t really even know who Jesus is or why he’s there.

The palms carry similar connection for us today.

Some folks will enjoy the shared celebration, and we miss the times when we could do processions and parades and feel safe amidst a crowd of people. Palms and pom-poms. Happy days.

Some folks will appreciate that the symbol in their hands has a meaning, though they may not be entirely sure what it stands for.

There are some who will re-purpose the palm into a cross – I’ve never mastered this skill – and thus increase its symbolism for their devotions throughout this week as we enter the home stretch before Easter.

Some folks will cling to the palm; keep it for the year, and likely still have it next spring when we will burn the palms to be used in our Ash Wednesday liturgy. (Remember my comment that palms don’t burn easily or well? Personal experience.)

So: the palms: a powerful symbol of this journey.

So here’s a challenge for you this morning: what if there were no palms?

What effect would that have on your understanding of this Holy Week journey?

What if the entry into Jerusalem, some 2000 years ago, and our entry in Holy Week – every year of our lives, was marked not casually with something disposable, but with a high level of intentionality and something of personal meaning and value?

Because the journey with Jesus starts with a celebration and an entourage who are giving a LOT to follow him.

They are giving of themselves, in terms of time and skills and availability.

They are giving of what they themselves needed – but knew that giving to God meant more.

They are giving because they knew it was more important to honour God than to worry about their own personal goods.

They were giving – possibly without having taken any time to think about it – they were giving what mattered to them, to mark the significance of following Jesus, and their undeniable commitment to this journey.

And this level of giving, of commitment, of public declaration of support – well it takes a lot more than some festive foliage.

And indeed, that’s actually what Luke tells us today.

There weren’t palms.

Now, I expect some of you are thinking: it’s PALM Sunday. Of course there were palms.

But read it again: the people used cloaks to honour Jesus’ journey on the donkey. The word “palms” doesn’t appear at all in today’s gospel passage.

Instead, we see people so changed by their participation in this pilgrimage that they were

literally stripping themselves to honour God.

Stripping their clothing; yes; and also everything that goes with it: social status, egos, positions and titles, all of it. They were all coming as equals before Jesus, giving of what they had.

That’s a powerful witness.

And it’s one that would have stayed with them throughout the week: as a now donkey-trampled cloak would remind them of the thrill of the party; and the accountability of the aftermath.

Or the stains or smells that just cannot be removed, reminding folks of their complicit behaviour before Pilate.

Or a cloak that never returned from the back of the donkey, becoming an absence that speaks of a lack of clothing, yes, but also of protection and covering – as the daughters of Jerusalem weep for themselves.

Cloaks. A more powerful symbol, even than palms.

So today; as we mark this journey from the gates of Jerusalem to the foot of the cross; as we take our first step in the path of a week of prayer and reflection and intentional spiritual contemplation; I invite us to ponder a few things.

What will WE do to welcome Jesus, when we find the divine in our midst.

How will WE give of ourselves, to contribute to the ministry that Jesus is leading, and top participate in God’s mission for the world.

How will we remain faithful when the crowds fluctuate and turn against one another and spin in inconceivable ways?

How will we reflect the light and love of God to our families and friends, our community, and the world?

Much to ponder: and I hope you will be intentional in your prayers this week.

For we come with palms; it IS palm Sunday.

And we come with our cloaks: laying them down for Jesus – and the people Jesus loves.

And we come with our hope: not as a feeling that we just receive, but as a response to the complexities of the world: acting with confidence out of the grace that we have already received.

So let us walk our own journey: with faith, with hope, with love: and with God.