Easter Sunday B - April 12, 2009

Easter Sunday B - 12 April 2009
Acts 10:34-43; 1 Corinthians 15:1-11; John 20:1-18
James V. Stockton

What is so good about the Good News is Jesus himself. Christ is the Gospel. Not the author of the gospel, not the subject about whom it is written, Christ is the Gospel itself. Once people have this one simple but mysterious idea in place, the remainder of Scripture and the teachings of the Faith and the traditions of the Church really rather nicely fall into order behind it, or more accurately, rise up from it.

This is not to say that all the rest of it becomes easy or unimportant. Quite to the contrary, the questions of the Christian faith and religion are numerous and fascinating for many people. This is why some of them are in church today, just like you and me, still asking questions.

‘Why do churches use stained glass windows?’ some are wondering. ‘Why do churches fill their worship space with the scent of lilies at Easter time?’ ‘Why do some clergy dress in strange robes, and some clergy dress in suits, and some in blue jeans and t-shirts?’ ‘Why do some churches put the sermon at the end and some near the beginning?’ ‘Why do some churches use one cup and some churches use lots of little tiny personal ones?’ ‘Why do some churches use a prayer book and some churches do without?’ These are just some of the simpler questions that people might ask; simple, that is, until they delve into pursuing their answers. And when they do, many will experience a fascinating world of discovery, of answers that lead to more questions, whose answers lead to better questions still. And as they keep asking, they discover that all their questions and all their answers rise up from one foundation: Christ Jesus is the Good News.

I read a story where father is talking to his son. Dad sits down in ‘his chair,’ and calls his son Billy over to him. “Billy,” says Dad, “I want to talk with you about the facts of life.” “Okay,” says Billy. “Will you answer a question for me, though?” “I’m here to do just that, son,” says Dad. Dad is reminding himself quietly, “I can do this; I know I can do this.” “These facts of life…”, says Billy; “Yes, son?” Dad replies. “Well,” Billy continues; “how many are there?” Dad takes a long deep breath. “That’s a wonderful question, Billy,” Dad says. “Just wonderful.” Billy smiles. Dad continues to think. And an answer occurs to him, and he begins to smile, too. “Yessir, Billy,” he says, now rising from his chair. “Yessir, we’ve had a great start to our conversation. But right now, I’ve got to go wash the cat; we’ll pick this up again real soon, okay?!”

It’s a good question. It may not be one that Dad thinks he’s prepared to answer, but it’s a good question, because it will probably lead both of them to the more important ones that they still need to talk about. They may not all be equally important, but who can say? Of course, this is just one more question, isn’t it? Oops! There’s another question. But think for a minute about all the questions that people are asking, not just ourselves and people around us in our own times today, but also in Jesus’ day, back when people are asking them for the first time ever.

In the first reading, we hear the Apostle Peter trying to speak to people who are Gentiles, despite the fact that from the time he was a child he was told with certainty that God would never accept them, God could never love them. What questions must be going through his mind! ‘Why are they asking me about Jesus? Why does Jesus want me to speak to them?’ We hear from the letter of the Apostle Paul in which he writes to fellow Christians, most of whom, again, are also Gentiles. Likely, he is asking himself, maybe asking God, ‘Why am I called to speak to these people? And why, as I now recall for them, did Jesus appear only to a few, not to everyone? Why did Jesus appear to me at all, when I know myself to someone completely unworthy of the grace, forgiveness, and love of God?’

And my guess is that we hardly imagine the questions that are running through the minds and hearts of those who come to Jesus’ grave and find it open and empty on this first Resurrection Day. In a sense, Mary Magdalene’s question turns her into the first evangelist, the first one to share with anyone the Good News that Christ is risen. ‘Jesus’ tomb is empty,’ she announces. And her question is implied: ‘Where is he? Where could he be?’

Peter and someone identified as ‘the other disciple’ run off to the tomb to see for themselves. Maybe now we’re asking some different questions, maybe better ones, if you will. ‘Why is this one called ‘the other disciple’?’ ‘Why didn’t he and Peter figure out what had happened as soon as they went into the tomb?’ ‘Why did they leave poor Mary standing there crying near that empty grave?’ And then, ‘Why doesn’t Mary recognize Jesus right away; why does it take a moment?’ And why does Jesus want Mary not to hold him too closely?’

And let me just observe that, yessir, these are some wonderful questions. If you yourself have ever asked some of them, it may be that you discovered some answers, for example, that the use of stained glass windows is a way that the Church presented the stories of scripture long before reading became commonplace. You may learn that churches use lilies at Easter because they are perennials. Each year they bloom, then die. They lie dormant in the cold hard ground beneath ice and snow; but each year they breaking through again and claim victory for life and beauty.

You may learn that the robes that some clergy wear, and some lay ministers as well, derive from a tradition that calls for clergy persons to dress like the poorest people of their day; and while the robes no longer resemble the clothing of the poorest among us, they continue to cover over an individual’s pride in his or her clothing, or their poverty of same. Whether, then, in suit, or jeans, or clerical robes, each of us clergy at our best still most seeks to be as one with our people, rather than as one above.

These are simple questions, perhaps, but perhaps also fascinating in that there really is a reason behind all this, there really are answers to be found to every question. As to why Jesus begs Mary not to hold him too closely, too tightly, too fearfully, but to let him go, to let herself go, there is an answer. As to why the other apostle is identified as John in the other three gospels but he remains anonymous in his own, there are answers. As to why Jesus appears later after his resurrection to a chosen few, then to a larger but select mass of people, then to fanatic named Paul, there are answers. As to why God’s Love in Jesus rises for the un-chosen as well as the chosen, for the most obviously unworthy as much as for the most pious and pure, there are answers. As to how is that Jesus Christ was raised from death to new life, there are answers. As to how you or I or those around us really do participate in Christ’s new life, there are answers.

And if you are asking yourself, ‘Does this meant that the teachings of the Faith and the traditions of Church have figured out all the answers?’ the answer is ‘No.’ Each of these questions, and those that will rise up for you later, and those that are rising up everyday for people around us, all these are wonderful questions. And they are leading us to questions more important still. And thanks be to God, not all of them are answered yet. Probably the most important ones remain fully to be discovered.

That’s a big part of why you and I will be here again next week, next month, next year - you’re always welcome here. We come together to pick up the conversation, to pursue our answers, to ask our questions, and to celebrate that simple idea and mystery where all our best questions begin: Jesus is the Good News.

And so may Almighty God, who gave Christ Jesus to death on the cross and raised him up again, grant us so to live daily as dead to sin and alive to the joy of new life in our Savior Jesus Christ, who lives and reigns with the Father and the Holy Spirit, One God, now and for ever. Amen.

(C) 2009, James V. Stockton