Easter 2020: Alleluia! Under Stay-at-Home

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Watch this service online here. 

 

1 After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. 2 And suddenly there was a great earthquake; for an angel of the Lord, descending from heaven, came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. 3 His appearance was like lightning, and his clothing white as snow. 4 For fear of him the guards shook and became like dead men. 5 But the angel said to the women, "Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 6 He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. 7 Then go quickly and tell his disciples, "He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.' This is my message for you." 8 So they left the tomb quickly with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. 9 Suddenly Jesus met them and said, "Greetings!" And they came to him, took hold of his feet, and worshiped him. 10 Then Jesus said to them, "Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me." - Matthew 28:1-10

Last week at this time, 

we gathered to hear the story of Palm Sunday, 

the story of the fed 

and healed crowds 

who lined the streets 

for Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem, 

waving palms and shouting “Hosanna!,” 

a word that means “Help!” or “Save us!”-- 

a cry of desperation, like a beggar pleading: 

“Please, please, please, please, please help me…. 

Please...”

Hosanna…please… 

There the crowds gathered: 

still homesick 

and still hungry 

for a world 

where all would be healed 

and where everybody would be able to eat.

+++

Since that time (liturgically speaking) 

a lot has happened. 

In the span of a week, 

the hopeful crowds’ cries for help and salvation 

were displaced 

and even distorted: 

first, 

with the muffled jingling of Judas exchanging 

a bag of gold 

for a human life,

and then, 

by the awful 

and hopeless 

and very public screams of “Crucify!,” 

the people and the public figures 

washing their hands

as their prophet, 

and as the Son of God, 

(the one who instigated hunger 

and homesickness 

for God’s better world), 

was marched up a hill to his death.

It was just Friday when we read of the end:

Jesus, 

buried by an admirer, 

in a borrowed tomb.  

The book was closed. 

And the tomb is sealed. 

Jesus said it himself: 

“It is finished.” 

And he breathed his last. 

+++

So what are we to make of these women who show up today? 

What are we to make of an angel, 

almost comically sitting on this holy site, 

with total disregard for its somber holiness--

as if it wasn’t a graveyard stone, 

but 

as if it was a garden bench 

where angels come to feed the birds

and to watch the greenery bloom? 

What are we to make of an empty tomb? 

+++

I don’t know what possessed Mary and (the other) Mary 

to come that morning, 

the morning we now call Easter, (or today), 

but, of course, 

I don’t know what possesses any of us 

to visit our dead. 

We just do it. 

We sit with their picture 

or with their memories. 

We build an ofrenda, 

or we visit a grave.

We sit. 

Or we go. 

And 

we remember. 

That’s just what we do. 

[pause]

I do know that it was only three days ago 

when Jesus shared a meal with his friends 

and told them 

to remember him, 

commanding them to love one another,

and in so doing, 

to keep his memory alive.

And I know that: 

that’s what Mary and Mary were doing this morning:  

climbing up a hill and calling their com-panion to mind. 

+++

It must have been jarring to arrive there, 

to expect to recall the past:

the time he healed the leper, the time he raised the dead,

but to, instead, 

be confronted with a future: 

“He is not here, but he’s going to be.” 

With these words, 

the angel plants a seed of hope in that garden.

He is not here, 

but he will be. He will find you on your way.

+++

It seems to me that

this is the truth that the angels, 

continue 

to speak to us today, 

when we climb difficult hills, 

when we remember

and (in times like these) when we mourn. 

Though we gather and recall his life,

though we gather and acknowledge his presence, 

we may also feel, (at the same time!) deep down, 

that Jesus is not all-the-way here yet. 

We may feel something of an absence, a void. 

“He is not here,” we might say.

“Where have they laid him?” 

And Yet, 

says the strange messenger:  

he will find us. 

He has gone ahead of us. 

And he will find us on our Way.

+++

The word hosanna means “Help!” or “Save me!” 

It’s a cry of desperation… please...

It’s the word that was shouted 

by the fed and 

healed crowds in the streets

who were homesick and hungry for world where 

all are healthy

and 

all are able to eat: 

“Hosanna! Hosanna in the highest!” “God, save us.” 

The word alleluia (the word we shout today)

is slightly different. 

Alleluia means “Praise God!” or 

“Praise Ye the Lord!” 

as some older English translations say. 

And

for Christians, 

Alleluia! is the fulfillment of Hosanna! 

It has been our Easter cry since the beginning, 

ever since Mary and the other Mary descended from the hill: 

“Alleluia!” We have shouted, “Salvation has come!” 

“Alleluia!” We have shouted. “Salvation will come again!” 

Alleluia! Christ has risen from the grave! 

Alleluia is a word born from that first encounter

between Mary and Mary and Jesus 

And it’s a word born again and again 

from the ongoing conviction, 

the persistent hope, 

the unquenchable desire or hunger or hunch or inkling or intuition

or belief...

that the Reign of God

(where all are healthy 

and everyone’s able to eat)

is not actually buried after all.

It never is. 

And neither is the One who instigates 

hunger and homesickness for it!

“He is not here,” the angels sing, 

“for he is risen!” 

Christ is risen, indeed!

Alleluia. 

May he find us always on our Way. 

Amen. 

Happy Easter!