Sunday, April 20, 2025

Acts 10: 34-43 and John 20: 1-18 - Easter Sunday, April 20, 2025

 Six years ago I had a particularly blessed Easter.  As part of my sabbatical, I spent Holy Week in the UK at Norwich Cathedral, enjoying daily presentations by the Poet, Academic and Anglican Priest, Malcolm Guite.  As you will hear shortly, Malcolm writes sonnets based on gospel readings – 14 line poems, ending with a rhyming couplet - and I was so impressed by his work that the opportunity to hear him present his poems and reflections day after day was not to be missed.  It also gave me the opportunity to worship and worship and worship, as the Cathedral had at least 3 services each day.

The week began with a group of us walking alongside a donkey through the city streets on Palm Sunday, continued with a rededication of ordination vows for all the Priests in the Diocese on Maundy Thursday, a pensive, sorrowful concert on Good Friday, and an extraordinary vigil complete with dramatic use of fire and water on Holy Saturday.

We arrived at Easter Sunday, amidst Malcolm’s sonnets and the ethereal majesty of this 12th century cathedral.  And then, on Easter Sunday morning, we were greeted with this: a sonnet to Easter Dawn, by Malcolm Guite:

He blesses every love which weeps and grieves

And now he blesses hers who stood and wept and would not be consoled,

or leave her love’s last touching place,

but watched as low light crept up from the east.

A sound behind her stirs a scatter of bright birdsong through the air.

She turns, but cannot focus through her tears,

Or recognise the Gardener standing there.

She hardly hears his gentle question ‘Why, why are you weeping?’,

or sees the play of light that brightens as she chokes out her reply

‘They took my love away; my day is night’

And then she hears her name,

she hears Love say The Word that turns her night, and ours, to Day.

I bring you this lovely, evocative poem this Easter morning as a necessary and welcome gift, because the season of Lent this year has, to me, felt very, very long.  No, it hasn’t actually been longer than usual; Lent, is always forty days of soul-searching, plus six Sundays when the light comes through a little bit more, but the emotional weight of Lent in the year 2025 has been enormous.  Each day we wonder, who has been targeted today?  Whose sovereignty will be trampled today (hello, Greenland)?  Who will be blamed for a fight they did not start?  Which nations and industries are on today’s tariff list?  And on a terrifying person by person level, what rights will be removed from US citizens, which in turn could embolden other nations to do likewise? Which thoughts are no longer allowable?  Whose tax return will be used for the purposes of seek and deport?  The swirl of global uncertainty, created by a truly awful regime hell-bent on disruption, is exhausting. And if I’m feeling that, I can scarcely imagine what it’s like to live on the other side of the 49th parallel if you’re Hispanic, or queer, or simply committed to factfulness. The season of Lent is a time when our emotional journey mirrors the frightening, exhausting time spent by Jesus in the wilderness, and the world has lived it out far too accurately this year.

The good news of Easter, friends in Christ, is that God does not intend for us to stay in that awful, challenging place.  As a friend in ministry once commented, “God is with us in the valley of the shadow of death, but never suggested that we set up camp there.”  In the story of Jesus Christ, crucified and risen, we have God’s complete engagement with the human story.  In his words, Jesus consistently identified with those who were being judged and excluded, and he spoke with clarity of God’s particular connection with the poorest of the poor.  He spoke of a world made new and he brought healing of the body and of self-image and of relationships.  His words and deeds, and the way he motivated people to brave acts of love, brought hope to many who lived without hope. Not surprisingly, those same words and deeds were perceived as a threat by the powerful and the privileged.  And throughout it all, all the way to the cross, the fidelity of Jesus, God’s Word made flesh, to his message of reconciling love expressed God’s all-in commitment to breaking the world free from oppression, to life eternal and abundant!

As we see the orchards come into bloom after a cool, grey winter, we see more evidence of God’s commitment to new life, and as the blossoms burst forth it lifts us and inspires a sense of awe.  Awe, gratitude, and relief; while Shannon and I did not arrive in the south Okanagan until last August, we have heard how grim it was at this time last year, when the stone fruit trees did not even flower, let alone produce fruit.  This time of flourishing orchards speaks to me of resurrection, new life, and a God of creative energy and commitment to life renewed.  That, for those of us fortunate enough to live in such a place, is an expression of Easter glory.

The glory of Easter also found a home in the words of the apostle Peter, speaking in our reading from the 10th chapter of Acts. In a gathering of Jews and Gentiles together, Peter begins recounting the life and meaning of Jesus with the memorable words, “God shows no partiality” or in other translations, “God shows no favoritism.” Yes, God has a special concern for the impoverished and marginalized, but none of the divisions we humans use to attack others are mirrored by God.   Nationality, ethnicity, sexual orientation, life circumstances, even the shaping of our religious understandings, none of these things can keep us from God’s love.  

Through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ we see God’s commitment to a life of undefeatable and boundless love.  That is the Good News that draws us together each Sunday, it’s the Good News that helps us find hope amidst the daily headlines, it’s the Good News that spurs us to be in solidarity with all God’s children living under the threat of attack.   And we note that it was Peter, the one who denied Jesus three times, who was restored by Christ to give this testimony. Not even our own guilt or shame can get in the way of having our lives uplifted and restored by God’s extraordinary grace and this, too, expresses the glory of Easter.

And we recall the reading that opened this morning’s service: Mary Magdalene, at the tomb, came to the gravesite to mourn the shocking death of her beloved friend Jesus, who had been put to death the previous Friday.  She had witnessed what had happened to him and now she knew where she needed to be, as we might revisit a burial site to honour a lost beloved one.  Into that space of traumatic shock and sadness, the impossible happened: an empty tomb, rolled up graveclothes, angelic messengers, and then… a conversation with the gardener.  Or at least that’s who Mary supposed he was, but as they spoke she realized that this was her beloved Jesus. 

However we embrace the story of the resurrection, literal or metaphorical or a bit of both, this moment with Mary and the risen Christ, speaks of God’s love which will not be stopped, even by death itself.   I need that reminder these days, when things beyond my control have such a grip on my attention: I need my depressive funk re-set, by the impossibility of those tender words from Jesus to Mary, words of loving reassurance, words of resurrection life!   In a world determined to make things worse for all but the insiders, I need to trust once more that God does impossible things.  There are things we can do to push back against the oppressor, and we also know that we are not limited to our capacity alone. When we come to our limit we need the gift of faith, to believe once more in the God of Easter rising, the gracious God in whom we rise again.

Easter, this celebration of life renewed, life uplifted, life reborn, is such a welcome gift, especially in the spring of 2025… and is a gift that does not just come one day out of 365.  We give thanks for the ways in which each day, each moment, each memory, and even each fear, each heartbreak and each worry, are met by God’s commitment for things to be better than they are now.  Each morning is a moment of Easter, as we are reborn to the possibilities of a new day, as we pray for a better day for the world. May this day, and the days, months and seasons to come, be for us and the world we live in, an invitation to live lives held, motivated and uplifted by God’s unlimited and unstoppable love.  Amen.

Reference cited:

Guite, Malcolm. “Sonnet XV : Easter Dawn »  https://malcolmguite.wordpress.com/2022/04/17/a-sonnet-for-easter-dawn-6/

 

© 2025 Rev Greg Wooley, Osoyoos-Oliver United Church Pastoral Charge

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