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Some of us assembled here today
gather every week.
Others have been separate from this
assembly for various reasons such as distance or illness, etc.
Still others may be visiting,
curiously sampling what things are like here at St. Mark's.
All, no matter what background we
have, are welcome,
because all of us need to hear the
same message:
--That this is a new day
--This is a day of reconciliation,
--This is a day of beginning again,
whether one has been here every
week (and Jesus of course encourages that very much),
or whether this is the first time
that a particular person has visited this congregation at worship,
for we have all fallen into the
same trap:
we have all sinned and fallen
short of the glory of God, as the scriptures say.
To claim otherwise is only to fool
ourselves, as we noted in the confession at the beginning of worship
this day.
We are not going to be able to work
ourselves out of this mess.
The disciples who followed Jesus
around Galilee should have been able to figure things out if any
human could have done so.
After all, they had the very voice
of Jesus with them day after day.
They could listen and learn and
take it all to heart,
but it was difficult even for them,
even though they
witnessed all that was truly important
for us to know.
However, the gospels report that
the disciples regularly failed to understand, they did not follow in
a heart-felt way,
and in fact, they fell away at the
crucial times.
The last scene in Matthew's Gospel,
just a few verses after our reading today, reports that even those
who saw the risen Christ were not all sure:
Matthew reports that
When they saw him, they
worshiped him: but some doubted.
There is failure piled on top of
failure on the part of all of his close followers, as well as the
fickle crowds around the scene.
Our failures and all the varieties
of unfaithfulness in which we all participate
are all things we have in common
with those followers of old.
It is a sorry tale.
But that is not all that the Gospel
has to say about disciples 2,000 years ago, and us today.
The Good News of the Gospel is the
message of reconciliation ,
the news of community put back
together,
an event which happens because God
wills it and gives it.
We don't earn it or accomplish it;
we receive it.
On Thursday we remember especially
the bond that Christ established between us and himself in the holy
meal:
Whenever you take, bless, break,
and share bread and wine in my Name, I am there.
Even when the disciples and all of
us will fall away,
Christ will not let go
of us.
As the Gospel continues, even after
the denials and abandonment,
the promise of God is presented
again, this time in the words of the heavenly messenger:
He has been raised from the dead,
and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see
him.
Jesus could have abandoned the
disciples as they had abandoned him, but he does not.
It is of the essence of the nature
of God that communication and community be re-established.
But some doubted, the Gospel says.
We can decide to stay there and
wallow in our own rejection and the despair to which it leads,
or we can end our hunger for
something that truly satisfies, recognize that we are a part of a
community which shall not fall apart,
and receive a hope that does not
disappoint us.
On this new day, recognize what
happens here:
God transforms the wreckage of
human hopes into a new community.
God uses ordinary water enlivened
with his word of promise to bring together a community that would
never be established any other way.
God transforms bread and wine,
samples of our work with his creation,
into the nourishment that is
working to transform us from the inside out.
We have itchy ears, Paul says,
ready to try out any new-sounding thing without regarding whether it
is of value or not.
But this is a new day,
and on this new day let
all of us discover that whenever we turn those itchy ears to
scripture,
we will be transformed a bit at a
time as God intends.
Whether it was by habit that
each of us has gathered here this morning,
or whether it was prodded by
guilt, through a family member or neighbor,
or urged by curiosity
spurred by a newspaper ad or inquisitive companion, or
or driven by sorrow drifting
toward despair,
here we are, together, this
morning.
Through this experience of Word and
Sacrament today,
we are changed, transformation has
begun,
and at length our hunger will be
satisfied,
our loneliness replaced with
companionship.
We will doubt our doubts more than
we doubt our faith,
and our sorrow is being supplanted
by joy in the presence of the risen Lord Jesus among us.
We know that by ourselves,
we are not such great
successes,
in spite of the facade that we put
up for the public.
One of the most unusual facades I
have ever seen was in Berlin 15 years ago.
There they had erected a gigantic,
block-long scaffolding and covered it with a canvas on which was
painted the out line of a building which stood on that spot before
the bombing of WWII.
After inquiry, I discovered that
they couldn't decide whether they really wanted to re-build the
palace on that spot,
and so they were looking at this
full-size mock-up, and then going to decide what should be done.
There was no building, but only
empty space with the picture of a building.
How would it turn out?
On this new day called Easter, that
kind of a question has already been answered.
Empty space and vague hopes are
transformed into the Body of Christ.
Hungers are being satisfied.
Facades are being taken down and
replaced with true community.
This is what can happen,
what is happening,
what will happen,
with you, with me,
with us together,
because this is a new day,
this is a day like no other,
this is resurrection day.
Christ is risen.
He is risen indeed.
Alleluia. Amen.
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