Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Today's story of Jesus' resurrection is central to who we are, and it explains so much of what we do. You remember what happens before this moment.
- How Jesus associates himself with tax collectors, prostitutes, and sinners
- How he takes on the religious leaders: "Hypocrites!" he calls them, "whited sepulchers! You lay heavy burdens on people's shoulders but will not move a finger to lift them."
- How he challenges the economic system, overturning the tables of money changers in the temple, declaring woe to the rich if they remain unmoved by the poor at the city gates.
Did he know what he was up against when he said and did all those things?
Because then, in what seemed like the end, he becomes an executed criminal on a cross, bruised and broken, with a fat lip and a swollen eye, barely able to lift his head.
Did he know what he was up against?
Years ago, after a Sunday liturgy, a young woman came running up to me on the church steps. She had recently become a widow long before her time. Her eyes were red, and she obviously had not slept. She asked, “Why didn't someone tell me that one day my marriage would end, either in death or in divorce?”
Did that young widow know what she was up against when she chose to love the man who became her husband?
For that matter, do any of us know what we are up against when we choose to love another person?
After investing ourselves in the ones we love--slogging through all the inevitable misunderstandings and fear and anger, working to enrich their lives, wanting to protect them from harm--ultimately we fail. Death takes everything away.
And so a question arises. Is it worth it?
Is it worth all the energy we invest in our relationships with loved ones? Is it worth the effort to love?
When love moves into the public forum, we call it justice. Do we know what we are up against when we work for justice?
I think of our own parish and our own work for justice.
- This past Lent, we collected enough money to dig a well in a remote village in Nicaragua so the people there can have clean and safe water for their families.
- In the last few weeks we've wept with families in our neighborhood who are torn apart by unjust immigration laws, and we stood with them to demand a change.
- We've marched for marriage equality and the simple right to live and love and raise our kids openly in the light of day.
- And we've handed out fresh vegetables and bread to hungry people every Saturday morning here in this space.
We've wanted our lives, both as individuals and as a parish, to matter. We have tried to make a difference.
Do we know what we are up against when we invest ourselves in these struggles for justice?
Let's not be naïve. We have powerful forces to contend with: heavily financed lobbyists; an entire culture of greed that measures us by how much we make, the color of our skin, who we choose to love. And then there's the never ending refrain: “It's always been this way, the poor getting poorer and the rich richer. That's just how it is. Why not face the facts?”
Who are we to play David before such Goliaths? Do we even stand a chance of winning? Do we know what we are up against?
When we decide to love someone, or to follow the path of justice, we're taking a big risk. We may find at the end of the day that we had it all wrong--that instead of looking out for others, we should have spent our precious time acquiring more toys; ; making a name for ourselves; climbing the corporate ladder, or the social ladder, or the economic ladder, or one of the many other ladders.
When we decide to love and to pursue justice, we're swimming against the current. Is the sacrifice really worth it?
We Christians think that love and justice are worth the risk. Why? Because of the ancient story we remember today; that the one who gave himself fully to love--and paid for it dearly with his life--has been raised from death, has been vindicated by none other than the Creator of heaven and earth, and is with us now, full of more joy, more life than when he walked the earth 2000 years ago.
Our impulse to love and to work for justice is backed up by no one less than God. That's what the story of Jesus' resurrection means.
Death and tears and sadness will not have the final say. Love and laughter and joy will win. This is the guarantee God gives us in raising Jesus from death. And therefore, no act of love is ever wasted, and in the end, despite all evidence to the contrary, it is worth it to love, worth it to pursue justice, despite the costs. The risk is worth taking.
Our spiritual ancestors believed this--from Mary, the mother of Jesus, to John the Evangelist; from Francis of Assisi to Martin Luther King to Harriet Tubman to Oscar Romero. And like them we in our best moments are crazy enough to believe it, too. In fact, in our baptismal vows, we stake our lives on it.
And so, fellow gamblers, fellow risk takers: We, too, now join the ancient chorus:
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!
Yes. And may we live out this truth of our brother Jesus with confidence, risking everything as he did for love and for justice among all God's children on this amazing and beautiful earth.
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