Third Sunday in Easter
Sermon by The Reverend Loree Reed

Luke 24: 36–48
Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on us.  Melt us, mold us, fill us, use us.  Spirit of the living God, fall fresh on us. Amen.

Here we are, three weeks after Easter, and if you had Easter lilies at your service that day, they have probably begun to wilt.  If you had glorious music, complete with trumpet and organ, the echoes of that music have also faded into silence.  And most likely, the crowds of people who filled your pews that day have largely disappeared.  So why does the Church take a full seven weeks to explore the mysteries of Eastertide when – as best we can see – the glory of Easter fades away so quickly?
The answer to that question lies in the phrase – ‘as best we can see.’  Because the resurrection we celebrate on Easter day has an effect that takes most of us a long while to perceive.  It certainly took Jesus’ disciples a while to understand it.’ Maybe that is why we are returning this morning, in the Gospel of Luke, to the very same Easter evening we heard about in John’s Gospel last week.  We are still trying to understand how everything changed that evening – for them and for us.
Just as John told the story last week, this morning Luke tells us that on Easter evening the disciples were huddled behind closed doors in a house in Jerusalem.  Only Luke says their fear was not that Jewish or Roman authorities are about to break in and arrest them.  Luke says their fear now is of Jesus himself, who is suddenly standing there in their midst.  For Luke tells us they are afraid he is a ghost.  But this is no ghost.  Jesus is alive once again, and his flesh still bears the welts, the bruises and wounds of his crucifixion.  In fact, to prove to them that he’s not a ghost he shows them these wounds.  And then, while they’re still wondering whether they should run or begin to rejoice, he asks them if they have anything to eat – for ghosts don’t have bodily needs like hunger.  And, to reassure them, he eats a piece of the broiled fish still left on the table after supper.
But then Jesus begins to explain to them the events of the past week.  He reminds them that the whole story of his life – his suffering and death included – is foretold in the Old Testament – particularly in Psalms and the Suffering Servant songs of Isaiah.  He opens their minds to realize that his life and his suffering and death were all prophesied as part of God’s ongoing plan.  Now their part in the plan, he tells them, will be to go out into the world and preach this, explain this to all who will hear.
This is an answer that’s hard for the disciples to accept; for it doesn’t point to the kind of Messiah they’d been hoping for.  In fact, they didn’t want a Messiah who solved the problem of death by rising to life again, forgiving his enemies as he did it.  They wanted a Messiah who solved the problems of their lives before those problems could affect them.  And that, I think, is what most people want – a life without problems, without oppression, without conflict or violence.  It’s what we want too; we simply want the bad news to go away.  We want to switch off the television, quit reading the newspaper and turn away from all the horrible things people do to each other.  And so did the disciples.  They wanted to escape the difficulties, avoid the unpleasantness of life entirely.  And Messiah, they thought, was supposed to help them do that.
But that wasn’t God’s plan at all.  Instead, Jesus stands in front of his disciples with the wounds in his flesh still visible – emblems of what a Christ–like life is all about.  For the new way of life Jesus is offering his disciples isn’t a life without suffering, without wounds.  It is simply a life of someone who meets the inevitable pain of life, the inevitable problems, the inevitable enemies — with hope and faith and love – and so witnesses to a power greater than himself.
This new way of life entered into the world – a gift on offer — when God the Father raised Jesus the Son from the dead.  For resurrection didn’t affect Jesus only.  Resurrection was his gift to them – and to all of us who believe in him.  Rowan Williams, the great English theologian, probably explains it best:
If you believe that Jesus rose from the dead, you are not just believing an odd fact from two thousand years ago; you are trusting that there is a kind of life, a kind of love and trust and joy that is the very essence of Jesus’ identity which is now coming to life in you.  And as it comes to life, you begin to know that no amount of pressure and stress and suffering in your life has power in itself to break the bond that has been created between you and Jesus’ life and activity.  You are alive with a fuller and deeper life than just your own.  Your resources are more than you could ever have imagined. ¹

This is the bond, the connection with God Jesus came back to offer his disciples that night in Jerusalem.  He came back to show them he had risen from the dead not only to find his home in heaven, but also to find his home in each one of them. ²

For when Jesus came among them that night, asking them to believe he had risen from the dead and showing them his wounds, he was offering them a whole new way of life.  Only it would take them a while to live into it — and not only live into it but learn to share it with others.  His disciples would have to learn to be vulnerable, yet loving . . . wise, yet humble . . . powerful with the gifts of the Spirit, yet meek and compassionate.  It was a gift, to be sure, but it was a gift that would cost them, a gift they would be learning to use their whole lives long.  Yet, as they gave this gift away — time and again – it would continue to flow through them.  Their ordinary humanity would be transfigured from within by the presence of God’s glory. ³
This is the mystery, the holy mystery of Eastertide, the gift that never fades.  This is resurrection.  It’s why we come to this church.  For by the power of the Holy Spirit this is where we learn it – through God’s Word, through his sacraments and from each other.  It will cost us everything to receive it – but will enrich everyone we touch.  No wonder it takes the Church several weeks every year to explain it!  And no wonder some hesitate to accept it – for it changes lives.  Yet, when you finally perceive it – as a gift on offer – you will do just about anything to make it your own.
It’s a whole new beginning, every single day, a whole new start.  It’s a whole new way of living our lives.
Alleluia!  The Lord is risen.  And he’s risen – in you.
Amen.
¹ Rowan Williams  Choose Life: Christmas and Easter Sermons from Canterbury Cathedral  (Bloomsbury, London; 2013)  /p. 121.

² Ibid.

³ Ibid. p. 123
 
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