Call on the Name of the Lord #8 | “Christos Anesti”

0:00 Listen now to the story of the first Easter as it echoes to us from the Gospel of Matthew, chapter 28, beginning with the first verse. After the Sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb. And suddenly there was a great earthquake, for an angel of the Lord descending from heaven came and rolled back the stone and sat on it. His appearance was like lightning and his clothing white as snow. For fear of him, the guards shook and became like dead men. But the angel said to the women, Do not be afraid, for I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified.

1:01 He is not here, for he has been raised as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, he has been raised from the dead, and indeed he's going ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him. This is my message for you. So they left the tomb quickly. with fear and great joy, and ran to tell his disciples. Suddenly, Jesus met them and said, Greetings, and they came to him and took hold of his feet and worshipped him. Then Jesus said to them, Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers and sisters to go to Galilee.

1:58 there they will see me. This is the word of God for you, the people of God. Thanks be to God. If you were tasked with writing a musical score for Easter, where would you start? Would you go with strings or brass? Would you opt for soft piano chords or a thunderous drum roll? Would you lean toward the shimmering lilt of a harp? Or perhaps you can imagine no finer sound than a trumpet's trill. What sort of music would you use at dawn on Easter?

3:01 Personally, I lean toward strings. I like the warmth of strings. Now, don't get me wrong. Brass is great. Brass is bright and powerful. Brass can wake a body up, lift a spirit. There's absolutely a place on this day for brass. Strings, though, when your day starts in darkness, I think you need strings. In the good book, Easter starts in a quiet, contemplative, somber place. Dawn has not yet cracked. Instead, we stare at a stage shadowed by the dim blue of twilight. Our eyes strain.

3:58 eventually we see them, two women navigating a twisting path. Cue the strings. And meet the Marys. Mary Magdalene and the other Mary. In recent days, these intrepid women have watched this meat grinder of a world consume their gentle friend. the Mary's path to Easter was not easy. And they're not the only ones carrying burdens on this sacred day. Caspar David Friedrich's painting, Easter Morning, featured on the cover of today's bulletin, makes space for us and the heavy things we carry in this life. In the pre-dawn mist, under the soft glow of the moon, figures walk a country road.

5:02 It's early spring. The trees have buds, but no leaves or blossoms. New life hasn't appeared. Not yet. So we keep searching. Our eyes follow the path. In the distance, we spy more figures. and rectangular stones. And then it dawns on us. Everyone is making their way toward a cemetery.

5:34 This, I gather, is a not-so-subtle metaphor for the human predicament. And this is how Easter begins. It's how Easter always begins. traveling to a local graveyard seeking to tend to the body of their friend the two Marys move deliberately cautiously it's been a terrible week a chaotic week a week punctuated by sham trials and gruesome violence those in charge have flexed their power with savage glee maximum lethality Most of Christ's followers have gone into hiding. Who can blame them?

6:28 They're scared. They're demoralized. The cruelty of Holy Week has battered their spirits. I recently grabbed coffee with a member of this congregation. Mug in hand, she described feeling distress at the state of the world. I nodded as she spoke. The person sitting across from me was no snowflake. Her moral compass was well calibrated. Her concerns were rational. And then midway through our conversation, she looked me straight in the eye and asked, Scott, are we going to be okay? This is, I think, one of life's most basic, most poignant inquiries. We ask this question when the ground beneath us is shifting.

7:24 We ask this question when something awful rears its head. We ask this question yearning for a sign of hope. Are we going to be okay? Surely this question danced through the minds of the first visitors to Christ's tomb. Up before the rising of the Easter sun, the Marys must have wondered, has evil won the day? What next? What next for us? What next for this messed up world? Are we going to be okay? carrying these heavy questions, shouldering the stones of grief. The women arrive at the cemetery. You've got to give it to them. The Marys are tough. They are faithful.

8:18 The disciples are hiding. The Marys are busy. They're determined to visit the tomb. What motivates them? Have the Marys been radicalized? Have they caught a case of Pontius Pilate derangement syndrome?

8:39 Here Jesus zooms in to focus on something ordinary, something decent. The Marys operate with moral clarity. They saw the cruelty of Good Friday for what it was and they refused to look away. They respond to the mistreatment and murder of Jesus. They respond with love.

9:15 Gathering spices, they travel through the dim blue light. the Marys are on a mission to care for Christ's body, to comb out his hair, to smooth his brow, to anoint his skin with precious oil. They are determined to do the good that is theirs to do.

9:41 Although before the women can complete this mission of mercy, they are met, their tough and troubled hearts are met by the first bright rays of Easter's sun. They are met, you saw this coming, didn't you? By brass. By a blast from heaven's trombones. Scripture tells us that at daybreak on Easter, the earth trembles, storm clouds rumble, the stone rolls back, a winged emissary appears. He looks, Matthew says, like lightning. Seeing the angel's face, soldiers guarding the tomb faint, turning to the women, heaven's luminous messenger speaks, do not be afraid. The first words of Easter are compassionate.

10:39 The world furnishes us with so many reasons to be afraid, so many reasons to ask, are we going to be okay? And at first, it looks like Easter is a continuation of life's scary stuff. The good book tells us that frightening things are swirling through the cemetery. Earthquakes shake, lightning flashes, the cosmic order shudders. Although, this time, something's different. Easter isn't trying to frighten the Marys or any of us, really. Yes, creation trembles. It trembles in awe. It shakes, Scripture explains, because death's perfect record has been broken. you're looking for Jesus asks God's lightning bolt of an angel death could not hold him good Friday could not defeat him the tomb could not keep him go ahead peek inside you'll see he is not here Christ is risen early Christians deemed this news so upliftingly good so so soul stirring so spine straightening that they refuse to kneel or sit in worship during Easter Sunday and for 40 days thereafter maybe we should bring that tradition back how are your calves Yes.

12:23 During Eastertide, the Greek Orthodox Church encourages worshipers to replace all their daily pleasantries with this glorious testimony. Instead of hello, good morning, how you doing? They greet each other with Christos Anesti, Christ is risen. By now, many of you know that at some point on Easter, my phone rings. When I pick it up, a voice with no introduction, no pleasantries of any kind declares, Jesus is on the loose. The next sound I hear is the click of the connection ending. And I know who it is. It's my roommate from seminary. It's his quirky way of saying Christos enesti.

13:18 Now over the years, many of you have joined in the tradition. I get texts, lots of texts, hundreds of texts, and emails declaring Jesus is on the loose. In fact, I got one last night at 9 p.m. from India, where the sun had already risen on this happy day. I can't imagine Easter without this wild chorus.

13:48 In today's text, God's angel encourages this sort of raucous behavior. Go, says the winged one to the Marys, go tell the disciples what has happened. Tell them to crawl out from under the covers and haul their scaredy cat selves to Galilee. there you will see him. Jesus is on the loose. So they go, the women run. They run, says the good book, with fear and great joy. They run smack into Jesus. They grab their friend's feet, kissing them, crying, trembling. And for the second time in our story, someone counsels them, do not be afraid. This past year, Ferrer, Strauss, and Giroux released a new edition of the poems of Seamus Henney.

14:50 I purchased a copy for Amy for Christmas. Inside, I inscribed the volume with Henney's final words. The last two words, this brilliant Irish wordsmith sent as a text to his wife just minutes before he died. The words were, no li to Mary.

15:19 The great poet lifted this Latin phrase straight from the Gospel of Matthew. from today's very lesson. These are the words that Jesus speaks to the Marys on Easter. No lead to Mary. Be not afraid.

15:39 No lead to Mary, says Jesus. And then he charges the faithful. I know the disciples think our time together is finished, but you tell them we're just getting started. as long as the powers of death haunt this world. I'll be out there as long as there are good Fridays in this world. I'll be out there in schoolyards and battlefields and hospital rooms and homeless shelters. I'll be out there, says Christ. I'll be in Galilee waiting for you. And that, my friends, is Easter. Easter says two things with utter clarity. Don't be afraid, and I'll be out there. What do we make of this two-part message?

16:36 On the back of today's bulletin, you can find the image of another Easter painting. This one comes from the Swiss artist Eugene Bernand. It hangs in the Musée d'Orsay in Paris. It depicts two of the disciples, John and Peter, running to the cemetery after the Marys relay the good news of Easter, Christ is risen. Some have called this, I don't know whether Louisa will agree, some have called this the greatest of all Easter paintings, and that's quite a claim. Why does this work get so many accolades? Well, to start, Bernan takes a unique perspective on Easter. Instead of painting angels or the empty tomb or even the resurrected Jesus, he studies the faces of those who run to the cemetery.

17:36 John, the younger fellow in the white robe, looks anxious. His face reflects the ordeal of Holy Week. For days, grief has held his head in a vice. John's hands clasp in prayer. Is he pleading with heaven? Is he pondering the testimony of the women? John wonders, have they told me a cruel joke or am I in receipt of the best news ever? Peter, the older fellow, holds his hand over his heart. Is he guarding it from further injury? Is he trying to calm its crazy beat, running to keep up with John? Peter's brow pushes up.

18:33 His eyes are wide, so wide. Has the big fisherman spotted something? Someone on the road ahead? He extends the index finger of his left hand. Is Peter getting ready to point? Bernand offers us an evocative freeze frame of Easter and in so doing he holds up a mirror to our souls.

19:06 On Easter we want to hope. We've made our way to the tomb. We came to church. At the same time we're cautious, anxious, self-protective. Fear and joy wrestle inside of us for control. We long to run into the arms of the resurrected one, and then we pause, recalling all the good Fridays we've been dealt.

19:42 On this day, our eyes grow wide, and then our mind waves a caution flag. We wonder, is Easter a trap for the naive and the gullible? Is today the ultimate gaslight, a thick layer of coconut frosting spread over the world's misery? A few months ago, I started reading Poet Ross Gay's The Book of Delights. It's a wonderful volume. Gay argues that human beings are really good at two things. One, being anxious. And two, fighting each other. Being anxious, fighting each other.

20:35 we're not so good at chasing after the beautiful and the true why well says gay in the face of the world's struggles we've decided that joy is a luxury and that joy needs to be shelved until everything gets better. This, says Gay, is a mistake because joy, he argues, is not an escape hatch. And Easter agrees. On Easter, the Marys travel to the tomb together and on the way they encounter joy. What does resurrected joy, this Christos Anesti council, Jesus, only three days removed from Good Friday encourages the Marys to stay the course, to go back into the world, to keep chasing after the good. Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers and sisters to go to Galilee. There they will see me. Is this true? Is joy really out there waiting to be discovered in this hard knock world.

21:57 In the book of delights, Ross Gay goes on a quest to find out. Gay dedicates himself to the task, the discipline, of trying to write a short reflection about something delightful every day for a year. And he worries that this will be a difficult, maybe impossible assignment. can you really find something every single day to be joyful about? Over time, though, Gay uncovers something. Something remarkable.

22:36 The poet discovers that his daily search for joy is strengthening his joy muscles. It's fine-tuning his radar for delight. All of a sudden, he reports all sorts of delightful things. Things in plain sight start waving their arms and shouting, write about me, write about me. What if Easter's like that?

23:10 What if Easter is determined to yank us out of the toxic sludge that seeps through our screens and weighs our souls down? What if Easter wants more than anything to wash the gunk off and send us running toward Galilee? So, true confessions. I've been giving the Ross Gay approach a shot. Beginning in the new year, I've been looking for Easter, looking for the resurrected Jesus all over the place, and I've been keeping notes. My first foray came on a cold night in January. I was in Duluth, Minnesota. I was working on advanced sermon preparation. Amy had already returned to New York, so after a day hitting the books, I went solo to a family favorite, a local sandwich shop called Sir Benedict's.

24:14 Sir Ben's is modeled after a British pub. It has tables and a bar area and sticky floors. It has a small stage where there's sometimes live music. I sat at the bar and ordered my go-to sandwich, chicken bacon artichoke, if you're ever there. I wouldn't steer you wrong. And I watched. Soon an 80-year-old guy named Larry sat down next to me. Larry introduced himself. He commented on the weather and the football game on the big screen. the bartender greeted Larry warmly, brought him his usual, patted his hand, asked after his health. As this was happening, I watched a young man, long hair, lots of tats on the other side of the horseshoe-shaped bar. He pulled out a kit with small tools and started making jewelry.

25:14 Eventually, a man with a red hat, it might have had a political slogan on it, sat down next to the long-haired fellow. They began a friendly conversation. On the other side of me, a woman counseled a friend who'd recently gone through a breakup. In many ways, it was a typical bar scene. And yet looking around, I felt overwhelmed by the vibe, by the simple fact that people were being kind to each other, generous. The whole thing felt countercultural. It felt like Easter. And that's before, and I promise this is true, that's before the band, three dudes around my age who were playing covers, that's before the band started in on Blue Oyster Cult's 1976 hit, Don't Fear the Reaper. Go to Galilee and there you will see me.

26:29 A few weeks ago, at the invitation of our son, Oliver, Amy and I went to the science fiction adventure movie, Project Hail Mary. Got it right that time. The theater was packed. In fact, Hail Mary is the number one movie in the world right now. It's an adventure story about a long shot attempt to hail Mary mission to stave off planetary devastation. The action hinges on an alliance that is forged between two strangers. strangers who become friends, strangers who exhibit compassion for each other across a tremendous divide.

27:22 At one point in this riveting story, I took a glance around the theater, there were tears on people's faces. Everyone was weeping. And here's the thing. They weren't tears of sadness. They were tears of hope. Tears of joy.

27:47 Go to Galilee. And there you will see me. Yesterday I spoke on the phone with a member of this congregation. In recent months, she's endured an unusually tough course of radiation and chemotherapy.

28:11 Follow-up blood tests have been good, but she's now on the cancer scan merry-go-round. While she's happy about this week's results, she's already a bit anxious about the next test. she's full of fear and great joy the doctors she explained are telling me to go away for three months and live so she said laughing I'm gonna do it I've got people to care for I'm gonna pray and I'm going to go live only one would want to feel at this moment. Go to Galilee. and you'll see me there.

28:54 My friends, Easter doesn't deny Good Friday. Easter is what happens when you grab someone else's hand and resolve to practice tenderness and mercy in response to Good Friday. Easter is God's invitation to visit the cemetery and to run to Galilee and all sorts of awkward and difficult places looking for Christ Easter is our faith's conviction that good is out there ready to partner with us to heal this hurting world