Join us for a weekend of spectacular music-making as we’re joined by the St. John’s Junior Varsity Boys’ Choir of Collegeville, Minnesota. The boys will make two   appearances with us:

     • IN CONCERT: Saturday evening, 18 May 2013 at 7:00pm in church

     • SUNG SERVICE: Sunday morning, 19 May 2013 at the 10:15am service with the St. Paul’s Choir for the great Feast of Pentecost

Surely a weekend you’ll not want to miss! The angelic voices of The St. John’s Junior Varsity Boy’s Choir. 

Join us! You’ll be glad you did!

Over thirteen weeks ago we rubbed ashes on our faces and off we were into Lent. Before we could turn around we were at the sink cleaning up Last Supper dishes, went to Gethsemane, stood at the cross, and days later, scratched our heads with Mary, Peter and John at an empty tomb, while we raised the strain “of triumphant gladness.” Today we retrace our steps. We’re back at the Last Supper. Whoever put the lectionary readings together thinks the upper room is essential, or is trying to slip one by us. Looking ahead, Easter ends next Sunday – Pentecost. And in the present, today we honor our mothers and important women in our lives. We pile a lot of luggage on this Seventh Sunday of Easter.

Jesus ends an evening of dining and teaching with a prayer, spoken so the disciples can hear him, as well as us. Jews and Gentiles alike will come to believe Jesus’ his disciples because they will tell the story. It’s going to take us being one for the world to believe him, though – a big one, one in the same love the Father has for the Son, the Son and Father for us, and in relationship with them. Being in such a state of love, the world will see and want to be so loved, as well. It’s easy – just love – right? Jesus and God are one, we are completely one with them, the world will see and get it. What does that make us – special – no, we’re missionaries to declare and live love. But for some reason, the world’s not beating down our doors.

I recently started reading a book, How the West Really Lost God. Mary Eberstadt researched and writes her conclusions about the loss of Christianity in the western world. We see people create a personal spirituality without the trappings of religion or church, and God of the church is no longer needed. We hear that church attendance is down. Mainline and conservative denominations are hemorrhaging members. Denominational wars, church splits, and backbiting get more media coverage than how we love one another. Jesus’ prayer goes unanswered. Are we impeding Jesus?

What is this oneness Jesus prays for? I am not sure. I am sure the world doesn’t quite understand church intramural warfare – how fractured Jesus’ followers are in their eyes. Sometimes people must think our mission is to be right, rather than follow Jesus. Yet we still believe in one holy catholic and apostolic Church, as if saying it makes it so. Do you ever cross your fingers when you say that? We are far from one. And Jesus believes people believe based on what they see of his love in us. I fear he may be right – and it’s always real attractive.

Jesus yearns that we be completely one. If we think Jesus means we should all get along, agree on everything, believe the same way, worship alike, keep the church pure, then we miss the point. Church divisions happen because people tenaciously believe they are right and someone else is wrong. We fight about what to believe, rather than follow the one we are to believe in. Church folk carry on like this, forgetting God’s reputation is at stake. God’s will is for us to live in the love the Father and Son share. That’s our oneness – God’s love poured into us. That love makes the holy catholic and apostolic church one. We are a people so wrapped in a sea of love that we are becoming one voice, one body to bear witness of God’s love reaching for those who still need to know and trust. We don’t even have to like each other, or agree – just love one another as God loves all.

In doing research in past months for the 1789 Prayer Book worship, I ran across a church history scholar who was drummed out of his denomination. From what I can tell he dared to say that our oneness is God’s gift, not in holding beliefs, doctrines, and Biblical interpretations alike. He dared write, teach and wouldn’t recant that trusting Jesus’ and God’s love is enough for our healing and salvation. Once in a denomination battle I asked someone who didn’t hold my positions if we came across someone who’d fallen in a ditch, could we work together to pull them out. His response: “If you don’t believe what I do, NO!” I think I would have been wrong to let him know my next thought. It was about him, I’m sad to say.

God’s glory is revealed in Jesus’– caring, mercy, reaching out to welcome all, forgive, restore, heal, and offer God’s love to any who seek him. God’s glory at the cross and empty tomb – evidence that love’s power is greater than the forces of violence, revenge or death. Fred Craddock says: “The church in every generation, in every place, and in every circumstance that embraces this word in faith will abide in peace, in joy, and in full confidence that the world will finally be drawn to God.” Until that time arrives, my friends, we are missionaries to love this world with the love God and Jesus share, love they share with you, me and those who can see His love, in ours.

On Sunday, May 5 as part of St. Paul’s 175^th Anniversary celebration, worship was conducted in the style and from the Prayer Book that would have been used by our founders. We approximated the time to be the late 1850’s. Mr. Benson prepared a wonderful music supplement with historical notes about each hymn. Many St. Paul’s people came dressed in hats, dresses, suits of the day. Representatives of the West Side Soldiers Aid Society were present, portraying St. Paul’s members of the Civil War era. Members contributed food for after-service Fellowships, people of that day would be eating. St. Paul’s rose up in fine Anglican tradition and hospitality, with great joy, energy and holy worship that guided our ancestors. Rather than a sermon, educational background was given about Morning Prayer, the Ante-communion and Holy Communion services from the 1789 Book of Common Prayer. The notes from that presentation are below.

Notes for 1789 Services

The Rev. Dr. C. Steven Teague, Minister

St. Paul’s Church, Milwaukee, Wisconsin

Before moving to the Holy Communion, I have a few comments to note in the Morning Prayer liturgy this morning. In Morning Prayer, the Psalm would follow the Venite and a Canticle or hymn would follow the first lesson. That is a modification for the sake of time – mainly for the second service.

In the post-Revolutionary War American Anglican church, the 1789 Prayer Book was quickly adopted. It is modeled on the 1662 Book of Common Prayer, and the major concern for a Prayer Book for the post-colonial church was prayer for the King, and any swearing of allegiance to the throne of England. Many may remember Morning Prayer as the principal Sunday service in earlier years. The Eucharist would have been celebrated once a month. We had the Exhortation, General Confession, and Absolution in Morning Prayer, so we will not duplicate that in the Holy Communion.

The Ante-communion service was a complete service, meaning the Holy Communion did not have to follow it. It looks very similar to the order of the 1979 Holy Eucharist, first part – the Word of God. Morning Prayer or the Ante-communion service could precede “The Holy Communion.” A seriously devoted soul on some Sundays would experience all three.

Prior to administering the Holy Communion, the priest was charged with making sure any receiving were not engaged in notorious evil living, and people who weren’t getting along were reconciled. If any were present, they were “advertised,” and would not come to receive Communion.

(Invite any who live in such conditions to come to the front, declare repentance and amendment of their ways.)

The Holy Communion – The minister stands at the right, or North side of the Altar. He begins by saying the Lord’s Prayer, followed by the Collect for Purity, all kneeling.

The Ten Commandments would be recited in a litany between minister and people, followed by a collect for purity and collect of the day.

The Epistle would be read, followed by the Gospel. The Creed would follow if one had not been said earlier at Morning Prayer. Then came announcements and a sermon.

The Offertory sentences are read while the alms for the poor are received. They are brought to the table, after the Priest/Minister places the bread and wine on the table – nothing fancy, plain and simple.

The Prayer for the Whole State of Christ’s Church Militant follows.

After the Prayer comes a warning of when the next Holy Communion will be celebrated. The priest gives a warning against receiving the sacrament unworthily, calling people to self-examination, bewailing sins, reconciliation and restitution with neighbors, forgiveness of others – and to come in trust of God with a quiet conscience (not troubled). The second option of a warning is to the negligent – those who refuse, or have something better to do, they are warned – You’d better be here.

Then the Exhortation to confession is read by the priest. Those who repent and are in love and charity with their neighbors are invited to take the Sacrament, but before doing so, make your humble confession to Almighty God – DEVOUTLY KNEELING. The Confession is made, the Priest stands and pronounces the absolution and reads the Comfortable Words, which is in Rite One of the 1979 Prayer Book.

Holy Communion begins with the Sursum Corda, followed by the Prayer of Humble Access, spoken only by the Priest in the name of all who shall receive the Communion, while kneeling at the Table. The Prayer of Consecration begins. The Priest and ministers commune. After all have received communion, all say together the Lord’s Prayer.

The Gloria is sung – a Gloria from the 16^th Century – the Blessing and we shall sing a final hymn.

Please note, there is not a processional, nor a processional cross or candles. The vestments are simple. In this time, St. Paul’s would have had no trouble being considered a “Low Church,” and the reactions against High Churchmanship, or High Church that was part of this Diocese. We tend to think of High Church as more formal, with ornate ceremonials, vestments, and gestures. Actually High Church had more to do with ecclesiology, and attitudes toward the Bishop, his power and control of money, and whether a church tilted more toward the Reformation or Rome.

I don’t think the two are related, but Paul Haubrich tells me the women of this parish were leaders in the teetotaler movement. Maybe the opposition to High of any kind was that strong. Fortunately, the church amended its opposition to every sort of high.

Today our worship reminds us we are religious, not just spiritual. We inherit a Prayer Book whose roots go back farther even than the first Episcopalians who gathered for prayers in 1836 in Milwaukee and formed St. Paul’s Episcopal Church. We are religious as we maintain a certain order of worship, one that extends through the life of this parish, back to England, and to the synagogue worship of Judaism.

Today I believe people yearn to be tethered to something that is solid, time-tested, and stirs their hearts and souls. We continue the faithful tradition of worship our ancestors at St. Paul’s have given us. When done well, with our hearts and minds affixed upon God, it’s not just us, but we join our voices with those who have gone before us – with angels and archangels and all the company of heaven. When done well, it’s not a performance, but an offering of ourselves, living sacrifices to God, that we may transformed and changed into more Christ-likeness for the sake of the world. We welcome and invite all to join us before God. For our mission is not primarily to ourselves, but to the world. Worship begins, not ends, when we leave – and we take the light of Christ to the world, as witnesses to the Lord who meets, forgives, nourishes here in our worship. Let us give thanks this day, not just for the past, but the great days into which God’s Spirit continues to lead us.

One or the other of a couple contacts me about having a St. Paul’s wedding. If it’s a go, we begin counseling and planning. Sometimes a couple chooses today’s gospel text as a reading for their ceremony. I ask, “Why do you like that one? “We don’t fight. We love each other, just like Jesus says.” And I’m sure they’re sincere – at the moment. I don’t know why it’s used for weddings though. I believe Jesus has a little more in mind. And that really hits me when a couple asks to add a clause, “This is my solemn vow; as long as my love shall last.” I hate to break the news, but love, Jesus’ style – is more than a feeling, or that silly, clingy, touchy, goof-eyes stuff.

Is there really a love that lasts? One evening, Jesus announces this could be his last meal with his friends. Jesus knows his time is short. A friend he loves has just turned on him and left the ranks. It’s a sad night.

What would it be like to know you are at a last meal with someone dear and close? We never know when it might be. We probably don’t think about it a lot, unless we have to. A woman in hospice tells her family she’s dying and is not going to eat anymore. Two days later as her family prepares breakfast, she walks into the kitchen and takes a chair at the table. Her children are wildered. “We thought you weren’t eating anymore.” “Well a poor old woman can’t die on an empty stomach.”

Jesus’ supper reminds us a last meal awaits us all. Some people express regrets when that meal comes, often out of the blue: “I wish I could have said ‘I love you’ one last time. If I’d known, I’d have been nicer; or more patient; or, wish we’d spent more time together.”

Jesus tells his friends his end is near. “You’ll look for me.” And that’s what we’ve been doing ever since. We have a longing, hunger that there’s something more. Death, illness, despair bring a certain desperation to find “it.” People keep changing churches, and deep down, maybe they are still searching to find Jesus or something that’s missing. Religious and spiritual books fly off shelves today, because people are hungry – for happiness, love, the meaning to life. Something’s missing. We build church buildings, and gather to worship faithfully. We of all people should know where to find lasting love. It’s found with Jesus. The problem: “Where I am, you cannot come.” That love seems just beyond our reach.

Frederick Buechner tells of a church Christmas pageant. The usual Nativity characters huddle to glimpse the Christ child. Parish children, robed in white, sit with their families, awaiting a cue. On cue, the heavenly host rises from pews, and rushes the manger. So many little angels crowding to see block one small girl. She tries, stands on tiptoe to no avail. The angels begin to sing, “Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, good will toward men.” At a brief pause, she cries out in frustration, “Let Jesus show!” The priest/pastor stopped the pageant. Nothing else needed to be said. He gave the blessing and dismissal, and people left in stunned silence – “Let Jesus show!” still ringing in their ears. “Let Jesus Show.” Isn’t that why we are here?

Jesus leaves a commandment: “As I have loved you, love each other. That way everyone will know that you are my disciple, by your love for one another.” That’s how we let Jesus show – by loving each other – all others – with the love Jesus has for us. His love is everlasting, from before time. His love for us is God’s love for us. His love bangs down hell’s doors for us. His love is freely given for all. He waits patiently for some to get weary and come home, and he goes looking for others who get lost and stuck. He’s with us wherever we are. He opens spigots of divine love that flows into us and through us.

Jesus doesn’t say believe certain things, say some creeds, learn spiritual laws, and watch who you let into my church. He says, “Love one another, as I love you.” Let Jesus show – in our love for one another. It’s in doing love – loving others as he does, we let Jesus show. At a certain point talk must end. Words alone do not reveal love. Only the one who dwells in us, coming from within us, can show lasting love.

Want to know how to love one another – look for the good in them, and tell them. Don’t raise yourself up by pushing someone else down, especially when they’re out of earshot. Go hug an enemy, and scare the bee-jeezus out of them. Find a sinner and get to know them. Go make peace with someone who annoys you. Forgive someone. Count your blessings, not what you lack, and be grateful. Welcome the outsider. Serve food at the Gathering. Tutor a child. Join the GreenFaith team.

Jesus is the source that lifts us into love that lasts – love he and the Father have for each other. That’s also called resurrection – God’s gift of new life. People know whose we are by how we love. When we take Jesus seriously – follow him faithfully, then in weddings and marriages and partnerships, friendships, families, and even in relationships that don’t last, we can still let Jesus show. Maybe if we love as Jesus loves each of us, we really could change the world. Bottom-line, I think that’s what God’s after. He’s given us the resources. So if it’s not happening – well, you supply an answer. God’s doing His part.

When we don’t know what else to do, we‘ll come up with something. Two post-resurrection visits from Jesus, and Peter and the boys are still clueless. He may have gone from death back to life, but he’s not alive like before. He’s not hanging out with them – they’re lost. They don’t know what to do. Peter fills in the gap – “I’m going fishing” and the rest say, “Me, too,” reverting to their pre-Jesus days. So, if you are a bit confused about Easter, unsure what’s going on, don’t feel alone. Just don’t fill your time by going fishing – not yet. All night they throw nets, pull them in, come up empty. What do we do when we feel lost, adrift, uncertain? We fill the space. We do something, even if it’s wrong.

As dawn breaks, a figure on the shore calls, “Children, you have no fish, have you?” “No, sir, we don’t.” “Throw your net on the other side.” Why not, nothing is working so far. They do – and miraculously, they can hardly pull in the nets for all the fish. The beloved disciple cries out, “It’s the Lord!” Like at the empty tomb, he’s first to recognize something more is going on here. This time Peter, in comical fashion, fishing in the buff, pulls on some clothes, (Praise God!) then jumps in the water and wades ashore. Why John had to include this detail in the gospel is beyond me – too much information. Besides, I’ve never seen Peter standing up in the fishing boat staged in a church play.

When the others get ashore, Jesus has breakfast waiting – fish and loaves, breaking bread, Jesus as host…hmm, let that image linger. The Last Supper is not Jesus’ last meal with his followers after all, then or now. Jesus’ miraculous fish and loaves buffet for thousands – with more than enough for all – Jesus, the bread of life, beyond death now, abundantly available forevermore, to all who seek, who merely ask – Jesus, who prepares the meal we receive at this table.

Jesus takes Peter aside, asks, “Do you love me?” “Yes, Lord you know I do.” By the third time Jesus asks, Peter’s feelings hurt. “You know everything. You know I love you.” Jesus’ response each time: “Feed; tend; feed my sheep.” Three times – yes, three times Peter denies Jesus. Does Jesus want Peter to know he’s still on the team – forgiven and restored – maybe? Or perhaps being forgiven and restored is just the beginning.

A lot of people sign up for Jesus’ benefits without reading the fine print. In worship, if we are attentive, we hear Jesus ask, “Do you love me?” At his table Jesus the host asks, “Do you love me?” When we look into the faces of those unlike us, those who differ with us, those who are enemies, those we’ve stopped speaking to – Jesus stares back and asks, “Do you love me?” “Feed, tend my sheep,” which means love that person as I love you. Saying “I believe,” is not enough. Jesus wants obedience, to follow him, mean it – to love as he loves – tending and feeding his flock, which is everyone.

Jesus calls us beyond the comfort of our pews. He sends us out into the world, not to wear people down, or threaten and scare them into heaven, but love them into the Father. Only love will get them there. Love doesn’t wait for sheep to show up. Love proactively goes out, seeks, forgives, embraces others, expects nothing in return, even suffers and dies to reveal God’s heart for us all. “Do you love me? Do something so others will know.” Jesus fulfills another promise made earlier: “Those who have my commandments, keep them, and show love to me. Those who love me are loved by my Father – and I will love you and reveal myself to you.” Is this true? Try and see – love others as Jesus loves you. That’s harder than it sounds, if we mean it.

God loves enough to give us space to choose Him. God doesn’t force us. It’s personal, and each must answer. Coming to church, saying the right things, telling others we follow Jesus – doesn’t matter. What matters is that they’ll know by our love that we love Jesus, and Jesus loves them. We can say we love, yet if we judge others harshly, draw a line to exclude others from God’s love – we are more like obstacles than followers.

When we don’t know what to do, we do something. That’s when Jesus is most likely to show up – to feed us with God’s love and new life, and ask, “Do you love me? Then follow me – feed and tend my sheep; love the flock – everyone with the love I have for you, my child.” For Peter, that meant the ultimate – requiring his life. I don’t know what Jesus may ask of you or me, but I do know he asks us to love with the love we see in God – you know, when God returns in a resurrected Jesus, and this time He really wants us to know we are loved – even those who opposed and killed His child.

John’s Epilogue ends just as his gospel begins. God’s light shines in the darkness, and the darkness does not overcome it. Light overcomes our hungers, our failures, denials, even our ignorance, and indifference. Jesus never gives up on any of us. “Do you love me?” Well if you do, then no way can darkness overcome. Love, seek, tend and feed lost sheep, found sheep, all Jesus’ flock. Darkness scatters when the light of divine love shines through us. “Do you love me?” Now, do we know what to do – what Jesus asks us to do?

The Second Sunday of Easter has a name you won’t find in the worship program, but appears on the Episcopal Calendar. Today is Low Sunday, and not just in Episcopal Churches. I am told that churches can expect about a third of the Easter attendees today. Easter Day is so joyful and grand. But Monday comes. We go back to the “real” world where flowers die; hidden eggs get found; chocolates consumed; and Peeps – something to look at, but please, never eat. North Korea is still making noise; Washington still needs a brain transplant, and tis’ the season to file income taxes. Easter Day’s joy fades quickly. It was Sunday, but Monday comes.

Sustaining Easter has always been a problem. Actually getting Easter off the ground was no small feat either. An empty tomb wasn’t enough to rejoice – it wasn’t much to build resurrection on. Mary figures someone’s moved the body. When Jesus appears to her and she knows, he sends her to tell the disciples. They are so overjoyed, they lock themselves in a house. That’s where we find Jesus, finding his disciples. He just appears in their midst, greeting them, “Peace be with you.” He doesn’t berate them for denying him, for running away in his darkest hour, for doubting Mary. What matters is they know they are his beloved, as he is the Father’s beloved. He shows them his hands and side, and then they rejoice and believe. Then Jesus breathes the Spirit he promised them earlier – God’s Spirit that will keep him fresh, alive and always with them.

For some reason Thomas is missing this day. When told what he missed, he says he’ll hold out until he sees for himself. Jesus comes back for him the next Sunday. With Jesus no one is left out. People label Thomas a doubter, as if doubt is troubling. I like to think Thomas trusts Jesus will understand where he’s coming from. He knows Jesus prefers honesty – not sweet clichés that hide how we are feeling. He meets us where we are. Besides, Thomas is no different from the rest. They didn’t believe until they saw for themselves. Jesus invites Thomas – “Go ahead. Touch my side, my hands. It’s really okay.” He sees and that’s enough for him to make the ultimate confession of faith: “My Lord and my God!”

What about us? They see the risen Lord and believe. How can we believe if we don’t see? John includes Jesus’ blessing for us who have not seen, and yet come to believe. Jesus encourages us anyway. The clue – the promised Spirit – ever present, ever available, opens our eyes and we see God truly is in Jesus. Jesus gives the Spirit to his disciples, and his followers now – the Spirit that reveals what God is doing. Besides, Jesus just didn’t show up to evoke belief or confession, and that’s it. Jesus comes back to resurrect us. In the mystery of grace through preaching and teaching the story, in prayer and meditation the risen Lord returns for us, where we are, too, and raises his life into ours. Easter is real, the beginning, not the destination. Jesus commissions us to be his Body, witnesses of resurrection life – to continue the deeds of love and forgiveness he brings from God, in service to others. Our sole purpose is to love – to continue what God sends Jesus to do – like sending the Son – you know, God so loves this world – not condemns it or us.

What do you think the world would be like if we stopped trying to believe or rationalize Easter, and simply live as if Easter is true? In our 175^th Anniversary year, we celebrate the past, but also look ahead – to where we are going, how God calls us to live Easter’s truth – shaping us into Christ’s Body in our time and place. We’re more than nice people. We are Jesus’ people – living Easter’s truth. We feed the hungry at the Gathering; support our sister church, Christ Church in Oforola, Nigeria; serve in numerous ways through the Thrift Shop: to work there, to bring gently used items to sell and raise funds for local and international ministries to support those in need: become better stewards of creation with GreenFaith. Today we celebrate being members of Common Ground, and those who hear God’s call to help the voiceless be heard. At St. Paul’s we offer a variety of opportunities to serve Christ, because one ministry will not fit all.

For the next few minutes I want you to hear and discern another ministry call – “Creating for a Cause,” the Episcopal Service Corps, Milwaukee, getting off the ground this spring – a diocesan initiative that needs parishes, us to be involved. Amy Clark, Program Director, is here to briefly introduce this exciting ministry, and talk with those interested in learning more after this service. What can we do to live as Easter people? Here’s another way to live as Christ’s resurrected people – Amy we welcome you.

Some say it’s darkest before dawn. Even in a familiar place, the dark we can feel uncertain, dislocated, unsure, and lost with no end in sight, even terrifying. Grief, sorrow and fear are portals where darkness pours in. We can stand in the light, and yet be in darkness. Jesus says if we turn away from God, if we close off our hearts to God and others, we dwell in darkness.

Mary comes in darkness to pay respect at Jesus’ tomb. We know why she’s come – and it’s not because of Easter’s joy. Jesus is dead – for her. She arrives to see the stone sealing the tomb is moved away. It’s open. She looks in. The tomb’s empty. What is going on? In darkness, when we don’t know, we’ll likely create a story – to explain what we don’t know, like someone moved his body.

She leaves to get two others and bring them back. She tells them, “Someone’s taken the body.” They go see, arrive, look in – “Yep, he’s gone.” No big deal – they go back home and cook breakfast, leaving Mary weeping in the graveyard. That first Easter is off to a pretty lame start. They are all in the dark.

In times of heavy, thick darkness we can easily forget what we’ve learned and been told. Didn’t Jesus tell them he would suffer, die, and will be raised? Yes – but often we can’t remember or do our best thinking when we stand amidst shards of broken dreams, and the sun won’t shine.

Act Two of Easter is Mary’s. She sees two angels in the tomb, who aren’t helpful. “Why are you weeping,” they ask, as if tears shed at a tomb don’t make sense. Has she also forgotten Jesus’ words, “You will weep and mourn, but the world will rejoice?”  Does she forget Jesus promises to see them again, and their hearts will rejoice? We have an advantage. We know how the story ends. We know joy is ahead. But Mary doesn’t. Jesus is dead, a corpse, now missing. Our darkness falls when we forget how painful this is for Mary, for any who grieve, for our losses – family, friends – the death of her friend, her leader, one so close to God, be brings her to God with him. It’s dark, and she cannot imagine or see anything else. We know what grief and sorrow can do. That’s where she is.

Mary turns around. He must be gardener – keeper of the tombs. He, too, asks, “Why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?” “If you’ve taken him away, tell me. I’ll get him, and I’ll take care of his arrangements.” For Mary, for us – God sometimes sends light, yet all we see is darkness. We can be so deep into the darkness of our pain to notice the divine one.

Many a person thinks an empty tomb screams resurrection. For those in the dark, those unconvinced, apart from God – no. Explanations more plausible have existed from the first Easter. An emptied tomb, or casket, is so unnatural. What would we think if we leave the funeral home, come back later to accompany the body to the church, but the body is gone. Who can blame Mary and the disciples for being in the dark? Corpses don’t get up and walk away. And that’s the missing piece. Jesus has been moved. It is God who moves Jesus – out of the tomb and back onto the playing field. So let’s not spend much time trying to find what no one was there to see anyway, and if they had been, they wouldn’t understand. Easter is the meeting point of the Father’s love for the Son – to ignite eternal, everlasting life and love in those who hunger, seek and ask – like Mary.

The miracle of Easter dawns when Jesus speaks Mary’s name. Easter doesn’t come by unraveling a mystery, sifting the story until we are convinced it’s true, finding plugs to fill holes we can’t explain. Easter is not neat, tidy or convincing. Easter dawns when the risen Lord speaks our name. Easter is personal before it’s universal. We know him in the intimate encounter of beloved and lover. Jesus remains sealed in the tomb, or in hiding, or on the loose out of sight, until we ask him to be risen in us.

Many a soul comes to church on a day like this – hungering, not knowing why, not finding what satisfies this hunger. Augustine says we are restless, and we won’t find peace until Jesus is raised again, this time within us – until we rest in God. We hunger to hear again, that God may let us die, but won’t leave us that way. Some are here because the darkness of the world has such a hold, we lose our ways. Some need to hear darkness doesn’t last. We want to hear again that Easter is real and the truest story ever told. And we likely want to hold these moments – and have time stand still in the moment when we start to see the first rays of dawn.

John’s Jesus doesn’t tell Mary to announce he’s risen, or “I’ll catch up with you later.” He won’t be held here, in time – “Tell them I’m ascending to the Father.” Jesus returns to the Father to render for all time, for all people that which he descends to bring. The Word is from before the beginning – becomes flesh – dwells among us, and ascends to triumph – Jesus is right about the Father. He cannot be just confined to our understanding of time. John begins by calling us to “before time:” in the beginning was the Word, who becomes flesh, dwells among us, light breaking into darkness. He ascends because the life he’s lived of God is still alive – what seemed temporal is eternal – available here and now.

Jesus isn’t a flash in the plan – He is eternal from the beginning and ever shall be. He returns not to us, but to God, and takes us with him, like he promised – to prepare a place for us, and take us there. Only we thought that’s only when we die – but it isn’t. He returns for us to raise us into eternal life now, over and over. Where he is so are we, and where we are he is. He keeps speaking our name, until we finally hear, recognize it’s him, and slowly begin to emerge into Easter’s light.

Is all this Easter stuff really true – can we believe it? Probably – if we can move beyond our need for proof, or demand for certainty. Faith gets us there, going ahead and counting on Easter to be true – staking your life that God is making it true, and Jesus is right about God. When we count on God, Easter becomes the defining truth that shapes our lives. In and beyond our darkest hour, God waits with love and healing. John would probably have us acclaim: “Alleluia! Christ is ascended. He is ascended indeed, Alleluia!” And so are we – to live in him forever and ever. Happy Easter!