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The Road to Resurrection

Holy Week at the Monastery

The Great Vigil of Easter

Matthew 28: 1-10

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; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. 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 is 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, took hold of his feet, and worshipped him. Then Jesus said to them, ‘Do not be afraid; go and tell my brothers to go to Galilee; there they will see me.’

A century ago James Joyce wrote that “history is a nightmare from which I am trying to awake.”i   So many people in this world, throughout this last century, would understand those words – about the nightmare of history – and we know it is true for multitudes of people in our world even on this Easter morning.  Among them are those who labor in our own country and on our behalf without benefit of citizenship, or protection, or hope; those who are imprisoned at our behest without the right of due process; those who live with a kind of inescapable prejudice or persecution because of who they are or because what they cannot change about themselves.  And beyond our own shores, as nearby as Haiti and as far away as nations in Africa and in the Middle and Far East,  those who live in a relentless nightmare of violence, oftentimes brought on by the sins of forbearers or the sins of foreigners.   

The power of Christ’s resurrection can change history, certainly our own history, our future, and the future of the world.  I want to draw on the symbol with which we began this liturgy: fire, the New Fire of Easter which we kindled in the brazier outside.  Fire is powerful, and it is good and necessary in so many ways.  Fire provides warmth for the body and a hearth for meals.  Fire provides light, and in pre-electrical times, fire and light are both alike.  In the scriptures, fire and light are often used interchangeably.  The psalmist writes, “Your word is a lantern to my feet and a light upon my path.”ii  And, “The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?”iii   For the people of Israel during the years of Exodus, the glory of the Lord, shone in the Shekinah: a pillar of fire which guided the people by night.iv   And in the ancient Jewish Feast of Booths, the great candelabra was lighted in the Temple at Jerusalem on the first day, and there followed great processions with the faithful carrying torches in hand, not unlike what we have just re-enacted in entering this chapel with the Paschal Candle and lighted tapers, and with the great candles lighted at the high altar.  We do this in memory of God who is light, and in God there is no darkness at all.v  It is no surprise that the long-awaited Messiah was anticipated as a light-bearervi  Jesus even said of himself that he is the light of the world.vii  The fire of love, the fire of light is such a positive and evocative metaphor, even for us today, this early Easter morning. 

But fire is a mixed metaphor, because fire can also have such a destructive side.  So much of the nightmare of history is incendiary.  In this last century, the heinous side of fire has been used in the pogroms of Poland and Germany, in the killing fields of Cambodia, in Bosnia, Rwanda, Sudan, Darfur, Palestine, and so recently in Kenya.  In our own country, even within the last 50 years, we have these terrible scenes of Ku Klux Klan crosses ablaze, of the fire bombing of the children at the Sixteenth Street Baptist Church in Birmingham, of the twin towers in New York imploding in flames.  This is the other kind of fire, used with such hellish cruelty.  Fire is a mixed metaphor.

The Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congre­gations of Britain and the Commonwealth, Jonathan Sacks, writes of the clash of civilizations in his book, The Dignity of Difference. Rabbi Sacks says that “…religion is not what the European Enlighten­ment thought it would become: mute, marginal and mild.  It is fire – and like fire, it warms but it also burns.  And we [he’s speaking primarily of Jews and Muslims and Christians] are the guardians of the flame.”viii   Tragically, it is inflamed religious passion that has so often caused, not resolved, but caused so many global conflicts.  The question I raise this Easter morning is: What do we do with this New Fire of Easter which we carry in our hands, and hold in our hearts as we go forth from here into a world that is already quite incendiary?   How do we as Christians claim this symbol of fire to enlighten our own self and our world, rather than to incinerate or desecrate.  How to claim and use this Easter fire?  Several things come to mind:

First, the scriptures make reference to a “crucible,” which is a melting pot for metals and which burns away dross, leaving only the pure valuable metal.ix  Is there any dross in your life just now from which you need to be freed, made pure and whole.  Dross covers up who you really are.  You might find it helpful to carry home the taper you have held in your hand.  If there is something that is old, encumbering you – a memory, a hope, a habit, a relationship, a belief – that used to be alive, used to be manageable, used to give you meaning, or identity, or security, and it is no longer living reality but more like an encrustment surrounding you, maybe poisoning you, let it go.  Make this dross your offering to God before your lighted taper, a symbol of what the scriptures call “the refiner’s fire.”x  If there’s more than one thing which has become “dross,” let it all go, let it burn, give it up.  And when you’re ready, blow out your candle again.  If you need help with this, ask for it.  You’re worth it.  Dross will really get in your way.  The ancient language of the church speaks of the “paschal mystery,” that is for Christ, so for us: life comes out of death; life comes out of death.  If there’s something you need to pronounce “dead” or “deadly” in your life, pronounce it.  If there’s something of your past life that’s simply on a ventilator, let it die.  It’s the only way you will know life, know the resurrection life that Jesus promises.  This is using fire as a crucible to burn away dross in your own life.

Secondly, bring the light into you life.  Many people, maybe you, are prone to suffer from light deprivation, from seasonal affective disorder.  This can also afflict the soul.  If your soul this season of your life is deprived of the light it needs, that light will only come from God, who is the source of all light.  God faces us in Jesus; you can face God because of Jesus.  Let God’s light shine on your own countenance.xi  In our gospel story, where the women come to the tomb, they are afraid.  They are told twice, “Do not be afraid.”  I’ll speak Jesus’ words to you: “Don’t be afraid.”  “Don’t be afraid.”  If you find yourself afraid, let God’s light shine on your fear, and your fear will burn away like the morning fog.  Saint Paul writes, “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.xii  Meet God face-to-face.  Let your own countenance receive God’s light.  Don’t live your life cowering, with your shoulders hunched, and your face to the ground.  Receive God’s light shining on your own countenance. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Then finally, the fire of love.  I’m speaking here about your identity, the essence of who you are.  Who are you?  Who are you really?  You are a lover.  You have been created by God out of God’s love for you.  And you have been given life to radiate that love to a world desperate and dying to be loved.  Claim the essence of your identity, as a lover, a lover of God, and then mirror that love with your life.  If there’s something inside of you that is timid or apologetic, if you are just “sort of living,” if your waiting to get a life, if your looking for the meaning of life, you need to let the timid fire in your soul really burn.  A smoking fire wants to burn.  It’s ready; the fire is set, just ventilate the fire and the flames will spring to life.  This is the fire of God’s love which has already been set in your soul, and it wants to burn.  Let it burn. Jesus said, “You are the light of the world.”xiii

In the early centuries of the church, in the beginnings of monasticism in the Egyptian desert, the story is told of Abba Lot who came to Abba Joseph and said: “Father, according as I am able, I keep my rule of life, my fasting, my prayer, my meditation and contemplative silence; and according as I am able I strive to cleanse my heart of wicked thoughts: now what more should I do?”  The elder rose up in reply and stretched out his hands to heaven, and his fingers became like ten lamps of fire.  He said: “Why not be totally changed into fire?”