{"id":1336,"date":"2016-03-27T11:00:34","date_gmt":"2016-03-27T15:00:34","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/?p=1336"},"modified":"2019-10-08T11:17:34","modified_gmt":"2019-10-08T15:17:34","slug":"easter-morning","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/2016\/03\/27\/easter-morning\/","title":{"rendered":"Easter Morning"},"content":{"rendered":"

Click here to listen to the full service<\/a><\/p>\n

Luke 24:1-12<\/a><\/p>\n

Click here to listen to the\u00a0meditations\u00a0only<\/a><\/p>\n

Luke<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Opening: Canadian Creed<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Our Gospel provides a particular kind of memory, a powerful kind of prayer, and a persistent kind of love as hallmarks of Easter morning. \u00a0Do they mark your life? \u00a0Do memory (\u2018<\/span>Remember how he told you\u2026and they remembered his words\u2019)<\/span><\/i>, prayer (<\/span>\u2018They bowed their faces to the ground\u2019)<\/span><\/i> and love (<\/span>\u2018They went to the tomb, taking the spices which they had prepared) <\/span><\/i>clothe life for you?<\/span><\/p>\n

Easter morning is resurrection in memory, in prayer, and in love. \u00a0Luke the historian cherished memory. \u00a0Luke the healer cherished prayer. \u00a0Luke the evangelist cherished love. \u00a0\u00a0What empty space, what unoccupied tomb, abides in your life for these three, and the greatest of these\u2014love?<\/span><\/p>\n

On Easter morning the women with courage walked tomb-ward to work through their worst experience. \u00a0The set forth to do the work of facing grief with grace, failure with faith, hurt with hope, and death with dignity. \u00a0And thee? \u00a0Is that work begun, continued, or completed? \u00a0Easter brings you life, uplift, a lift for living, even into the teeth of death, so you may face, face down, and live down death.<\/span><\/p>\n

Death makes us mortal. \u00a0Facing death makes us human.<\/span><\/p>\n

God is at work in the world to make and keep human life human. <\/span><\/i>(J Bennett). <\/span><\/p>\n

Easter morning means to uplift you—listen, hear, trust\u2014from death to life. \u00a0Seek \u2018the Living One\u2019, He who is more alive than all life, whose life is the marrow of being alive. \u00a0Why do you seek the Living One (<\/span>ton zonta<\/span><\/i>)\u2014a title perhaps, a Person, for sure, an announcement of Christ, crucified and risen. \u00a0All appearances to the contrary notwithstanding\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>\u2018The marks of the new age are present hidden in the old age. \u00a0At the juncture of the ages the marks of the resurrection are hidden and revealed in the cross of the disciple\u2019s daily death, and only there\u2026this is what the turn of the ages means, that life is manifested in death\u2019 (JL Martyn, of blessed memory, in 1967, <\/span><\/i>Epistemology at the Turn of the Ages<\/span><\/i>)<\/span><\/i>. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>We need not over-preach at Easter. \u00a0We still walk by faith not by sight. \u00a0We still see in a mirror, dimly. \u00a0We still have this treasure in earthen vessels. \u00a0We still hope for what we do not see. \u00a0The resurrection follows, but not replace the cross.<\/span><\/p>\n

Today Luke announces resurrection in his own manner. \u00a0Luke honors the women at the tomb, following Mark, but he replaces Salome with Johanna, and names Mary the mother of James. \u00a0Luke\u2019s women are composed, calm. Mark remembers the women in fear and trembling, rushing away with horror and terror and great anxiety, and speaking to no one. \u00a0\u00a0In Luke, they actually remembered angelic words: on return, they calmly told the eleven \u2018all\u2019: \u00a0the prediction of the Galilean\u2014betrayal, suffering to death, and on the third day arisen; the additional angel, the more dazzling attire, and the preference for Jerusalem not Galilee. \u00a0Luke is different from Mark, and Paul is different from both.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>Paul? <\/span>Paul gives no indication that he is familiar with the doctrine of the empty tomb. \u00a0There is not the remotest reference to it in any of his letters, and his conviction that the resurrection body is not the body of this flesh but a spiritual body waiting for the soul of man in heaven makes it improbable that he would have found it congenial <\/span><\/i>(Gilmour, IB, loc. cit.)<\/span><\/p>\n

Easter comes with the morning, every morning. \u00a0\u00a0So walk with the women, walk with me too, let us walk together through the Gospel in sermon. \u00a0And if you get done with the sermon before the sermon gets done, if you are finished with it before I am, have no fear, do not worry. \u00a0Just wait a bit, and I will catch up with you!<\/span><\/p>\n

Marathon 2013<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

We do not know what a day will bring. \u00a0True this is of every day, but truer of some days than others. \u00a0Focus for a moment on the <\/span>\u2018gravest\u2019<\/span><\/i> of days you have known. \u00a0Someday I would like to hear of it.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>For some who are seniors or juniors today, Patriots\u2019 Day 2013 was such a day, nearly 3 years ago. \u00a0We learned first hand in this neighborhood about the visitation of death, tragically known again in Brussels and around the globe this week. \u00a0Spelled D\u2026E\u2026A\u2026T\u2026H. Not your imaginary friend, but an equally omni-present invisible enemy\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

That Monday began with brunch and celebration, and ended with terror, and needless slaughter and (humanly speaking) unforgivable horror.\u00a0 Our staff opened the chapel later for the throngs walking, T-less, by.\u00a0 Water, refreshment, prayer, counsel, they gave.\u00a0 One runner came very cold and was shrouded with a clergy gown, all we had to offer, a shepherd\u2019s outfit.\u00a0 What a week. \u00a0Tuesday brought us to the plaza, come evening, in vigil, to honor and reflect.\u00a0 Wednesday, in this chapel, and also at other hours in other settings, gathered us for ordered worship, prayer, music, liturgy, Eucharist and sermon.\u00a0 Thursday we heard President Obama, on a familiar theme, \u2018running the race set before us\u2019.\u00a0 Friday at home we watched televised news.\u00a0 Saturday we listened for the musical succor of Handel\u2019s beautiful Messiah, right here.\u00a0 The Monday next we gathered again for a memorial service, for our deceased BU student, Lu Lingzi.\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

Death makes us mortal. \u00a0Facing death makes us human. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

You remember death. \u00a0Your neighbor. \u00a0\u00a0Your hourly companion. \u00a0You spell his or her name D\u2026E\u2026A\u2026T\u2026H.<\/span> Easter morning is about intimations of life, the Living One outlasting death. \u00a0Paul: \u00a0<\/span>As in Adam all die, so also in Christ shall all be made alive. <\/span><\/i>\u00a0Behold: a glimmer of light in the dark, a rumor of life in death, an angel reclining in the tomb. <\/span><\/p>\n

Clem: Memory<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

<\/span>Memory gives us life.<\/span> \u00a0<\/i><\/b>Remember how he told you\u2026<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

If there has been ever an age that more needed better memory than ours, I know not what it would have been. \u00a0<\/span>Those who do not remember history are doomed to repeat it. \u00a0The past is not dead; \u00a0it is not even past.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

During that week journalists from around the globe contacted us, and others, across the university. \u00a0Many, perhaps most, called or wrote from Asia. \u00a0Some needed commentary for radio news or other newscasts. \u00a0The main newspapers across the country also sent reporters.<\/span><\/p>\n

On Wednesday, the office took a call from the Philadelphia Enquirer. \u00a0Could someone meet their man and his photographer at the steps of the chapel, to help convey something of the nightly vigils, services and informal prayers of the week. \u00a0We picked a mid-afternoon hour. \u00a0\u00a0In the April sunlight the interview began. \u00a0Suddenly the photographer dropped his camera and shouted: \u00a0Bob. \u00a0Bob. \u00a0Bob. \u00a0His name is Clem Murray, a high school classmate and friend. \u00a0He and his girlfriend Mimi Sinopoli were the \u2018class couple\u2019 because they were the most beautiful couple, a truly stunning two some. \u00a0I had seen neither for forty years. \u00a0I had heard that they married in college. \u00a0Somehow, he recognized enough of my former self, hidden behind the current condition of my condition, and recognized my name. \u00a0He let go of the camera for a hug. \u00a0We finished the interview and photo. \u00a0I turned then as they were going to ask, \u2018So how is Mimi?\u2019 \u00a0You only know the really awkward moments too late. \u00a0They come up after you, like alligators out of the Florida swamp. \u00a0Clem said nothing. \u00a0He didn\u2019t need to. \u00a0I could see what he was holding back in his face and eyes. \u00a0\u00a0He just shook his head and shook. \u00a0\u201cTwo years ago she died of cancer\u201d. \u00a0\u00a0In the midst of life we are in death, every moment. \u00a0\u00a0All I could see of her was a white graduation gown, a little cap and tassle. \u00a0\u00a0Three decades of marriage, three children, all things bright and beautiful, and then a malignancy unto death. \u00a0Clem waved goodbye. \u00a0A kairos, not a chronos moment\u2026<\/span><\/p>\n

We held, together, a memory of life, that made life, that gave life, that made alive. \u00a0In the very presence of death. \u00a0It was a resurrection memory. \u00a0A living memory takes you out of the present and into a living past. \u00a0It was a resurrection memory. \u00a0And perhaps the most powerful personal conversation I have known.<\/span><\/p>\n

Marcel Proust with his madeleine moment teaches us best: \u00a0<\/span>a single minute released from the chronological order of time has re-created in us the human being similarly released\u2026situated outside the scope of time, what could one fear from the future…(these are) resurrections of the past (Proust, RTP, II, 992, 996). <\/span><\/i>\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Memory gives us life.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 <\/span><\/p>\n

Ceremonial Bow: Prayer<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Prayer gives us life. \u00a0<\/span>They bowed their faces\u2026<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

A week after the Marathon, you may remember, we memorialized our student Lu Lingzi. \u00a0This service was held, as had been the memorial for President John Silber the autumn before, in the George Sherman Union. \u00a0Two thousand attended, with an unknown number around the globe watching and listening by cyber cast. \u00a0\u00a0The service proceeded, word and music, after careful attention and planning by musicians and clergy. \u00a0We heard the Gospel of Mark and the Analects of Confucius. \u00a0We listened to instrumental and choral music. \u00a0We grieved, remembered, accepted, and affirmed, together. \u00a0The family, eighteen or so, and dressed in black, sat in the front row. \u00a0As the service ended, from the next row, I could see and hear a susurration along the family pew. \u00a0They then were meant to move to the gathering and greeting room, but no one stood. \u00a0Further conversation moved up and down the row, in a language I could not of course understand. \u00a0I feared: \u00a0have we forgotten a eulogy, or left out a reading, or skipped over an anthem? \u00a0No. \u00a0It was something else. \u00a0After a moment, the family, dressed in black stood as one, moved as one, turned as one, and faced the congregation and the world. \u00a0A long quiet ensued. \u00a0Then, as one, they bowed at the waist, and held the bow. \u00a0To honor the gathering, to honor the moment, to honor the life, to honor Life, they bowed, in silence. \u00a0It is the most powerful liturgical moment I have ever known. \u00a0It was a resurrection prayer. \u00a0And it is perhaps the most powerful liturgical moment I have seen.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018Many are the languages of prayer, but the tears are all the same\u2019 (A Heschel). \u00a0We should repeat this three times a day.<\/span><\/p>\n

Prayer gives us life.<\/span><\/p>\n

Hold On: Love<\/i><\/b><\/p>\n

Love gives us life. \u00a0<\/span>They went to the tomb\u2026<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

The next Sunday, April 28, turned out to be a nice, warm early spring day. \u00a0As the sun came up, we looked forward to a day of rest and worship, a chance for a return to normal.<\/span><\/p>\n

About 1 hour before the Sunday service, Br. Larry came in to the office to say, \u2018We have another one\u2019. \u00a0It took me some moment to understand and internalize the fact of another death. \u00a0She had died tragically in a fire, caught in an upper room. \u00a0Her mother would be coming up from NYC on the bus later that evening. \u00a0The police would have informed her of her daughter\u2019s death. \u00a0Our Dean of Students, Kenn Elmore, and his associate, John Battaglino and I planned to meet the bus. \u00a0That evening we awaited a delayed Greyhound, talking a bit about the week past. \u00a0We pondered how best to greet the grieving mom. \u00a0It was decided I would meet the bus, and greet her as she came down the steps, to offer our heart felt condolences, and start the trek over to the hotel. \u00a0The noise of the terminal, the lateness of the hour, the long weeks of terror and loss, and the approximate presence of death itself settled on us, and gave us that quiet of the soul that sometimes overtakes us.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>In the bus rolled. \u00a0The mother came down the steps carrying a beautifully decorated box, holding it with both hands. <\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI want to greet you for the University and express our deepest sympathy and heart felt concern\u201d I said. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She replied, \u201cWhere is my daughter? \u00a0What hospital is she in? \u00a0Please take me to her, so I can see her and talk with her. \u00a0I want to go and see her. \u00a0Where is she? \u00a0How is she doing? \u00a0I brought a rice cake. \u00a0See. \u00a0In the box. \u00a0It is her favorite. \u00a0Rice cake. \u00a0I know it will make her feel better.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Honestly, at every phrase I tried to say, with honesty and kindness, that her daughter had in fact died the night before, caught in an awful fire. \u00a0Apparently she did not understand the police, or they did not speak clearly, or someone else in the family took the call. \u00a0I tried everything. \u00a0\u00a0But she could not understand, or could not hear, until, at last, she looked up and hard and asked, \u2018You mean\u2026she\u2026is dead?\u2019 \u00a0Yes.<\/span><\/p>\n

There is a phrase in the Christmas gospel about Rachel weeping for her children. \u00a0That Bus Terminal echoed with the chilling, haunting, painful cries of a mother who rightly could not and would not be consoled, as Rachel could not. \u00a0The reverberation of her sobbing across that urban nighttime cacophony I can hear still. \u00a0Nothing I said helped. \u00a0Nothing I did helped. \u00a0Nothing I could offer her could she receive. \u00a0We sat on a bench, the wailing stronger still, the cake and box on the floor, the gathered friends lost in grief. \u00a0\u00a0Then she stiffened, her arm in mine becoming taut and cold. \u00a0Perhaps she was going into shock. \u00a0Everything I tried\u2014counsel, prayer, listening, scripture, all\u2014was of no avail.<\/span><\/p>\n

<\/span>Then from her other side Dean Elmore simply surrounded, enfolded her. \u00a0He put all of his body and arms all around her, as she wailed and stiffened. \u00a0He held her. \u00a0He rocked her. \u00a0He embraced her. \u00a0And little by little, sob by sob, she began to relax. \u00a0And little by little, breath by breath, she began to loosen up. \u00a0And little by little, held tight, she came through it. \u00a0Her lament lessened, her limbs loosened. Out up from the tomb she came. \u00a0\u00a0A physical unspoken compassion brought her through, from death to life. \u00a0It was a resurrection love, compassion, embrace, grace, freedom, care, acceptance, mercy, pardon, peace, inclusion. \u00a0It was a resurrection love. \u00a0And it is perhaps the most powerful very public, pastoral ministry I have witnessed.<\/span><\/p>\n

Unamuno: \u00a0<\/span>warmth, warmth, warmth; \u00a0we are dying of cold not of darkness; it is not the night that kills, it is the frost.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Six years, at the time of our dad\u2019s death, Elie Wiesel sent a note. \u00a0It was love physical, compassionate and personal, and as with all resurrection love it made a difference. \u00a0It concluded: <\/span>we have a saying in our tradition, \u2018may you be spared another further hardship\u2019.<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

Love gives us life. <\/span><\/p>\n

Memory. Prayer. Love.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u2018The marks of the new age are present hidden in the old age. \u00a0At the juncture of the ages the marks of the resurrection are hidden and revealed in the cross of the disciple\u2019s daily death, and only there\u2026this is what the turn of the ages means, that life is manifested in death\u2019 (JL Martyn, <\/span><\/i>Epistemology at the Turn of the Ages<\/span><\/i>)<\/span><\/i>. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Easter morning is memory, prayer and love, creation, redemption, sanctification, Father, Son, Spirit, life in death. \u00a0And life in death holds out a promise of something grander still, life after death.<\/span><\/p>\n

Closing: \u00a0Apostles Creed<\/span><\/i><\/p>\n

– The Reverend Doctor, Robert Allan Hill, Dean.<\/i><\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Click here to listen to the full service Luke 24:1-12 Click here to listen to the\u00a0meditations\u00a0only Luke Opening: Canadian Creed Our Gospel provides a particular kind of memory, a powerful kind of prayer, and a persistent kind of love as hallmarks of Easter morning. \u00a0Do they mark your life? \u00a0Do memory (\u2018Remember how he told […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2679,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[22],"tags":[6],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1336"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2679"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1336"}],"version-history":[{"count":3,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1336\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1975,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1336\/revisions\/1975"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1336"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1336"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/blogs.bu.edu\/sermons\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1336"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}