Coming Home
Through this short week, the people of the church have been on a journey from light to darkness. We have moved from enthusiastic waving of palm fronds and exuberant hosannas to darkness. We dimmed the lights to the bare minimum as people spent the long night of Jesus’ betrayal; scourging, humiliation, and pain, staying awake with Jesus in our names.
We felt the longing and loss of the living Jesus throughout Friday and Friday night. We gathered tonight in the desolation of darkness. We feel pain about the loss of Jesus, and disbelief and pain about the suffering of Jesus in others – a young child murdered in Tracy, police officers slain in Oakland and Pittsburgh, Italian men, women and children in a devastating earthquake.
Tonight, we share in the lighting of a new fire in that darkness, a new hope, and new confidence. Our journeys have brought us to a new light in the dark corners of our lives.
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I was moved from darkness to light while Rich sang the Exultet, the glorious hymn of hope and praise the Church has sung for over 1600 years:
This is the night, when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave!
How holy is this night, when wickedness is put to flight, and sin is washed away.
It restores innocence in the fallen, and joy to those who mourn.
It brings peace and concord.
How blessed is this night, when earth and heaven are joined and humankind is reconciled with God.
The candle glowed as we were reminded of the constancy of God throughout our long salvation history: the pillar of fire that led the Israelites from slavery to freedom; our hymns of hope, the stories of God’s eternal presence and loving kindness. When I feel disconnected from God, these stories remind me of God’s constancy, and ask me, “If you feel disconnected, who moved?” And I remember that it is I who needs to come to God and to Jesus.
I would not be the first. People came to Jesus throughout his life, for so many reasons:
In tonight’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene and “the other Mary” come to see Jesus in the tomb. They want to be with him even in this dark hour. They encounter instead a terrifying earthquake and blinding brightness. Jesus is gone. With joy and fear, the women return to share their startling news. Jesus meets them and what was to have been a tomb-side vigil of mourning is transformed to joyful worship of a living Christ.
The women came simply to be with Jesus. Why do we come here, so many years later?
Some come to consider and share in an ancient story. Some for the pageantry. Some of us come to live a joyful worship of the living Christ. Some come with hope of being touched once again by a Jesus we have met before – or we have come for the first time. For some of us it has been just hours since our last coming together with Jesus, for others of us it may well be considerably longer. We come, in all cases, to have our hope refreshed and restored and to allow our faith to emerge and grow.
Many of you know that after a church-centered childhood that I loved and valued, I found myself out of the church for years. Decades. I had scant faith in most of my original church’s teachings, and far less hope. Would I be included as a full member, or would I receive an unchristian, hypocritical exclusion I expected? Would my unbelief be my undoing? Would their beliefs be my nemesis? Or their intolerance?
So much negative thought. So much fear. But there was also a yearning so great nothing would fill the emptiness or allow me to set it aside. The yearning led me to a slender flicker of flame. And I packed up those doubts, fears, and questions and began my journey back to God. That slender flicker of hope told me the grace I would find would far outweigh the separation I had felt for so long. That flame lit my halting steps. My journey will never compare to those of the women named Mary. But, like them, I had to make the journey. I knew I had to give God a chance.
This is the night, when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave!
How blessed is this night, when earth and heaven are joined and humankind is reconciled with God.
I see my journey of reconciliation in the slender, flickering flame of the Paschal candle. I followed it home. It says, “Welcome home”. Welcome home. Let us celebrate that our journeys have brought us together here.