Easter A 2020 — A Very Different Easter
Dear Partner in Preaching,
There is no question that this Easter will be different. Very different. As in, unlike any Easter Sunday in the memory of any of our members. Our churches will be empty, not filled by the crowds we’d hoped for. Not even gatherings of any meaningful size. Our people will be feeling isolated, unsure even of when they might go out again. And many of them will be afraid – for their safety, for their lives, for their futures. And we may wonder what, if any, value our words will have, what comfort they may bring, whether it is worth bringing them at all. Yes, this Easter will be different. Very different, unlike any Easter celebration in living memory.
But, strikingly, this Easter will not be that different from the first Easter. Indeed, when you read either of the accounts appointed for this Sunday – Matthew 28:1-10 or John 20:1-18 – there are some deeply resonant similarities. After all, there were no crowds gathered to celebrate Jesus’ resurrection. The crowds both Evangelists portray greeted Jesus as a conquering hero when he entered Jerusalem at the beginning of the week, but by week’s end condemned him as a criminal and later jeered him on his lonely march to the cross. Rather, what you find described on that first Easter is a very small gathering – in Matthew two women, in John a woman and two men. These incredibly small groups – well under the current prescribed limits of ten people per gathering – were the first witnesses to the resurrection, the first invited to worship the One who embraced death in order to defeat it.
Similarly, the rest of the disciples lived in isolation and fear, cloistered, according to John, in a home where they had locked the doors out of fear for their safety. They were still reeling from the brutal heartache and loss they had experienced two days earlier, unsure of what the future held, unable to imagine their lives ever returning to normal. Sound familiar?
So perhaps this is a place to start, Dear Partner – with how much more similar is this Easter we are experiencing just now to that first Easter than most if not all of the celebrations we’ve been a part of thus far. Because it may help that the Easter word of hope and courage came first to people who did not take it for granted, who were mired in isolation and fear, and who could not imagine what life would now be like. Stripped of its more regular trappings – traditions and rituals that we hold dear for many good reasons – this Easter service may remind us that God has never promised that our worship services would always be grand, that our churches would overflow, that our economy will always be growing, that our health is guaranteed, or that our lives and future would unfold as we’d hoped and planned. God – in and through the incarnated, crucified, and risen Christ – has never promised any of that. Rather, at the heart of the Gospel is the promise that God is both with us and for us at all times and through all conditions. In sorrow or joy, triumph or tragedy, gain or loss, peace or fear, scarcity or plenty, God is present.
That promise is, more fully, two-fold. In the cross God promises that, while always available to us, God meets us especially where we most need God (and often least expect to find God): in hardship, struggle, loss, and death. Because of the cross, that is, no experience, no matter how difficult or awful, and no person, no matter how sinful or lost, is truly God forsaken, because God is always where we most need God to be. And in the resurrection, God promises that all the harsh realities of this life – hardship, struggle, loss, fear, disease, hunger, death – these realities – though painful they most certainly are – do not have the last word. Rather the resurrection promises that God’s light is more powerful than darkness, that God’s love is stronger than hate, and that the life God offers through Christ prevails over all things, even death itself.
In light of the present circumstances and the way they prepare us to hear and experience Easter differently – perhaps a bit more like the original disciples – two words stood out to me, one from Matthew and one from John. In Matthew, I am struck that amid the double repetition of that hallmark of good news – “Do not be afraid!” – the startling, unexpected word of the angels is, “He is not here.” This Sunday, that may not simply serve as herald to the empty tomb and promise of new life, but perhaps also remind us that even our beautifully decorated sanctuaries, our carefully crafted liturgies, and our joyous and Easter-dressed people cannot contain Jesus. He is always out ahead of us, inviting us to meet him in Galilee… and in the face of the need of our neighbor and in our care for one another and the world. Jesus is still not where we expect him to be, but rather is still inviting us to move forward and outward in faith, still promising to meet us up ahead, still reminding us that he will be with us always, even to the close of the age.
In John I am struck by Jesus’ address to Mary. Except it’s not just an address, not a word of proclamation at all. Rather, he simply calls her by name. “Mary,” he says, and suddenly she sees and believes and trusts and is brought to new life. At the heart of this story is the recognition that resurrection heralds not simply the defeat of death and promise of life – which are really, really big things!! – but also that God is accessible to us, that God will not abandon us, that God desires more than anything to be in relationship with us, that God continues to call us by name.
Look, I know you may be wondering what you can possibly say to your people this week… as, quite frankly, I am. And perhaps you’re wondering what value or meaning or significance your words can have in the wake of the fear and isolation caused by this pandemic. But these words – Jesus is out ahead, calling us to life; Jesus knows us and loves us and calls us by name – these are not insignificant things. Like the disciples of old, we may just hear them anew and find the faith and courage not simply to survive but also to flourish. And perhaps it’s worth remembering that this small gathering of disciples – once they were called and named and sent by Jesus – changed the world. Which might just be what happens once again.
However you might preach these stories, Dear Partner, and wherever this Sunday finds you, know that you are in my prayers, prayers for strength and confidence and courage. And prayers, I hope you know, of gratitude for your faith and your fidelity. Your words matter – you matter! – more than ever. Blessings on your proclamation!
Yours in Christ,
David
Post image: Edward Armitage, “Dawn of the first Easter Sunday” (1872).
Thank you for the Good News!!!
I have appreciated your thoughts, shared week by week, for a long time now, and I truly thank you for all of them. This Easter message is so helpful for me and will be for those we minister to now and over the coming weeks. God bless you.
Actually in many ways this Easter will be more like the first Easter than probably any Easter we’ve ever celebrated before. AS WE COME TO THE DOORS OF EMPTY CHURCHES
THIS EASTER SUNDAY—
WE, LIKE A YOUNG BOY—WHO GATHERED MASKS AND GOWNS TO DISTRIBUTE TO HEALTH CARE WORKERS IN WASHINGTON
ARE MET WITH THE WORD: “HE IS NOT HERE—
HE GOES FORTH BEFORE YOU AND HE WILL MEET YOU
AT THE HEART OF GOD’S SUFFERING PEOPLE.”SO WE ARE SENT—WRAPPED IN OUR FEARS
AND UNCERTAINTIES—
INTO A WORLD WHERE DEATH AND SUFFERING ARE AS REAL
AS THEY HAVE EVER BEEN—IN CONFIDENCE WE ARE HELD
IN HIS LOVING PROMISE
THAT NOT ONE OF US GIVEN TO HIM WILL BE LOST (JOHN 6) AND GOD’S YES WILL NOT ABIDE LIFE’S NO
OR DEATH’S NO.”
AND THAT TRUSTING IN HIM WE WILL PASS
FROM DEATH TO ETERNAL LIFE—
AND HE WILL RAISE US UP ON THE LAST DAY.
John, the poetry is amazing. May I have permission to share it with my congregation this Easter Eve? I minister with First United Church of Canada in Kelowna, BC. (revbobw@telus.net)
Yes, John, May I too have permission to use your poem/prayer?
David: I just want to take a moment and thank you for your thoughts and commentary this week and others. You help me communicate a message that I feel inside but often don’t know how to say to my people. Thank you for the reflection this week and allowing all of us to portray the message of encouragement to people who need to hear it.
David, Ester blessings to you, and thanks for all these reflections you provide. Each week something in your thoughts sets sparks off in my own imagination. You are a gifted voice of hope and clarity of understanding. Thank You.
Such encouraging words in discouraging times.
Thank you, Dr. Lose. You have put into words so much of what has been rattling around in my head this week, but that I just could not quite turn into an intelligible thought. This year, while the resurrection will always bring triumph and joy, the celebration does feel like it might be a little muted, but I don’t think that is necessarily a negative. Sometimes when we are forced to take a step back and see what we have always seen with a new perspective, there comes with it an understanding and vision to which we never before have been open. Too often on Christmas, Easter, Pentecost we see what we expect to see, what we are looking to find. This Easter, we really do not know what to expect or what we will find as eerily we preach the good news to empty pews. Still, I am anxious to see with new eyes how God will come to us, to our congregations, where we will meet up with Christ anew.
Thank you for your continued words and leadership to pastors everywhere. This one in Texas has certainly been blessed by your ministry!