Whenever you miss Easter, for whatever reason, Jesus always comes to where you are, calls you to life, and sends you out.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Second Sunday of Easter, year A
Text: John 20:19-31 (with references to 1-18 and chapter 21)

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

Mary Magdalene missed Easter. The tomb was open and empty when she got there.

She didn’t know where else to go in her confusion and despair at Jesus’ death. So even before it dawned after the Sabbath, she was at the tomb.

Her confusion and despair only deepened at the ominous emptiness she found: an open tomb, Jesus gone. She ran to the others and told them, came back, and then stood there confused, alone, sad. She had no idea what to do next.

Then she heard her name. The voice of her beloved friend and teacher said, “Mary.” Jesus came to her where she was. And then Mary knew Easter. Then she knew resurrection life.

The other disciples missed Easter. Some didn’t come. Others came, and left.

Apart from the women, the rest of the disciples were locked away in fear. Fear that, since Jesus was dead, they had nothing to live for. Fear they might be next in line for arrest and death. Peter and John heard Mary’s frightening news about the empty tomb, ran to it, looked in. Then they went back and re-locked the door.

And then they saw Jesus. Jesus came to them where they were, locked away, and breathed peace on all of them, men and women. Then they knew Easter. Then they knew resurrection life.

Thomas really missed Easter.

He wasn’t at the tomb Sunday morning or the Upper Room Sunday night. He missed it all.

His doubts were legitimate. He wasn’t going to raise his hopes just because the others thought they saw Jesus or had an experience he dearly wished he’d had. He didn’t dare hope again without something he could touch and see and know himself.

Then Thomas saw Jesus. Jesus came to him where he was, took his hand and drew it to his side saying, “touch me, Thomas. Know for yourself.” And then Thomas knew Easter. Then he knew resurrection life.

Well, we just missed Easter.

We worshipped where we were, sang along, prayed, heard each other proclaim that Christ is risen indeed. It was a blessed gift in our time of separation, our staying at home for our own safety and the safety of our neighbors. But for many of us, myself included, we could not remember another Holy Week in our entire lives where we weren’t at church, an Easter Day when we stayed at home. I can’t begin to tell you how I missed seeing you all, being with you.

We were closed up in our homes, worried about loved ones who are ill, anxious about ourselves. Despairing at the breadth of this plague on this planet. As locked away as the disciples, as confused and afraid as Mary and Thomas, we missed Easter together.

But listen, dear one. Do you hear? In your disappointment and sadness, Jesus comes to you where you are and calls your name. You are known, beloved, God’s dear child, wet with baptismal water, and Christ is calling your name. So you can know Easter. So you can know resurrection life.

If you miss Easter for any fears that lock you away, Jesus will come to you.

You fear being hurt, so you lock your heart away from others. You fear threats that fill this world, so you hide behind your garage door and your locked front door, and don’t engage. You fear the sacrifices it might take to follow Christ, so you lock away your mind and imagination so you don’t think about it. You have no idea what Easter could do to change this.

Look, dear one. Do you see? Jesus comes through all your locks and breathes God’s Spirit of peace into you. You are filled with God’s love and forgiveness, and that takes away your fear. There is no place you can lock yourself away that Christ can’t come in and say, “Peace be with you.”

This is what resurrection life means in your life. The risen Jesus always comes to you where you are. The Spirit is breathed into you, and you don’t need to be afraid, or lock yourself away again. You can risk love, risk witness, risk reaching out. Risk life.

If you miss Easter because your doubts feel so strong you can’t get around them, Jesus will come to you.

Doubt is part of faith. But what if it seems like all you have are doubts? There’s so much death and destruction in our world, does what happened on that Sunday morning long ago really matter, change anything? Is there really life in Christ for the world? For you? If only you could touch Jesus and know for sure.

But look at around at this community of faith, dear one, these loved ones who walk alongside you in Christ, even at a distance these days. Jesus has come to you where you are, and says, “These ones, they are me. For you. In them, you can touch my wounded hands and feet and side, and trust me.”

Don’t fret if sometimes you feel you’ve missed Easter.

Jesus will always come to where you are and call you by name, breathe peace into you, take you by the hand. So you can know the resurrection life that lies on the Christ path of vulnerable, sacrificial love. So you can have Easter.

And then Christ sends you to take it into the world. Mary was sent to be an apostle, to tell the others the good news. All the disciples in the Upper Room, men and women (even Thomas), Spirit-breathed, were sent to forgive, to love, to feed Christ’s sheep.

You are sent with resurrection life in you, as Christ, to others who’ve missed Easter, to be with them where they are, even as others have been with you as Christ.

To tell them they are loved and known by name to the Triune God. To offer peace and hope to those who’ve locked themselves away. To reach out and embrace those who struggle in doubt. To be life for those who are facing death’s touch. To bear this life as Christ did, for the healing of the world.

So everyone can have Easter.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

You’re afraid, we all are, but the women at the tomb show us we can still look up, hear the good news, and bravely share our lives – still afraid, but filled with joy in God’s life in us.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Resurrection of Our Lord, Easter Day, year A
Text: Matthew 28:1-10

Beloved in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen

They were so scared, they looked dead.

These tough guards at the tomb, armor-clad, carrying weapons, were terrified. They shook and fell to the ground. Like dead men.

Give the benefit of the doubt. Earthquakes are scary. And an angel of God showed up in the earthquake. That sent them into hysteria, dropped them like trees. Here this being from heaven sits, on the stone that used to cover the tomb. The tomb they were supposed to be guarding.

They were, instead, frozen with fear, curled up on the ground. Like dead men.

We know about being frozen.

This pandemic has paralyzed the entire planet. Whole countries are locked down, businesses and schools closed, hospitals filled to capacity. All of us are staying at home, only going out for essential things. We know we’re trying to save lives by this. We’re helping the government and health care systems to catch up with supplies and beds for when the peak hits. But here we sit on Easter, in our homes. Unable to move.

We’re not frozen by fear of seeing an angel or experiencing an earthquake. We’re frozen by what we can’t even see. Is it on my clothes after the grocery store? Is it in the air? Did I wash my hands? Did my neighbor walk too close to me on the sidewalk, and now I should worry? For something invisible to the naked eye, fear of this little virus has immobilized us. Almost like we look dead.

But something else freezes us.

Even if we were all together in worship this morning, there would be this other fear. We’ve just walked with Jesus through these Three Days and have seen him demonstrate with his own body and blood what the path of God’s love, the path of Christ, will mean. He talks about it all the time; you can’t read a teaching of Jesus and not encounter it.

But we’ve just seen it means literal servanthood toward others, on our knees. It means sacrificing ourselves in love for others, and losing things dear to us. We’ve seen that even Jesus struggled with this when he prayed in Gethsemane. And we saw it led him to a brutal and horrible death.

We don’t really expect to die for following. But there’s a reason many Christians in every generation reduce the faith to simply believing the right things, having correct theology. That comes from fearing the alternative: that Jesus meant Christian faith to be a life fully engaged in a relationship of love, vulnerability, and self-giving, with God and neighbor, that costs us.

We might have to face our own prejudice and privilege and lose some comfort. We might have to dare to allow ourselves to live on less so others can live. We might have to have our dearest opinions and convictions and biases challenged and broken open. We might have to risk being hurt.

It’s much easier to curl up inside, immobile, and act as if faith is thinking things right, and not being someone new. When we do this, we look dead.

But there were others experiencing that earthquake, seeing that angel.

There were some women there. Disciples, followers of Jesus. Unlike the other disciples, they came out of hiding to go to the tomb and be near Jesus’ body, early. Before dawn.

And they’re terrified, too. But they don’t fall to the ground like they’re dead. They keep their eyes open. They stay standing.

And so they hear this frightening angel tell them news they never could have hoped to hear: Jesus has been raised. He is alive. The angel shows them the place, and sends them out to tell the others.

They keep their eyes open still. They start walking. And they meet Jesus on the way! Wonder of wonders, they get to hold him. Love him. Even worship him.

These women were just as afraid as the guards, just as afraid as you and I. But they held it together long enough to see what God was doing in this frightening moment. To see news of great joy for all people.

But they don’t get to freeze in this moment of joy, either.

Both the angel and Jesus send them to go and tell the others. They can’t go home and celebrate this news, live with warmth in their hearts, knowing God raised Jesus. This faith in Jesus isn’t something you keep inside, immobilized from acting in the world.

No, they are sent out to be vulnerable, just as Jesus always said. They’ll risk being disbelieved. They’re women, so they’ll also risk being discounted and ignored. They’re sent to witness with their vulnerable, self-giving lives that servanthood and sacrificial love, even to death, always ends in resurrection and abundant life. That this path they’ve all been called to walk looks terrifying, and filled with loss, but it ends in the earthquake of God restoring life that has been freely given for others.

Of course you and I are also sent. If you want to follow Jesus, it means taking this joy of God’s Easter life and letting it break your immobility. It means going into the world to be Christ. To be self-giving love.

Whether it’s in this health crisis or dealing with all that ails our society or dealing with your neighbor, your friend, your loved one: you have learned the path of Christ in these Three Days, and it is frightening. But it always leads to resurrection and abundant, new life. Jesus promises you that.

Are you still afraid? Do you fear this sending Jesus gives you?

That’s OK. Take one more look at Matthew’s Gospel. Do you see how the women left the tomb to witness? They went “quickly, with fear and great joy.”

They were still afraid. But they were filled with joy. They didn’t know what the future would be for them, and it still frightened them. But they now knew this path was filled with God’s abundant life and love, a life that cannot be stopped by death, a love too strong to stay in a grave. And that gave them great joy.

It’s the joy of God’s Easter life that swings the balance for you, gives you just enough courage – it doesn’t take much – enough courage to outweigh the fear you have of being out there, vulnerable, as Christ, in the world.

If you want to follow the risen Christ, just follow these women. They’ve got the right idea. Fear and great joy, with enough resurrection courage to get moving.

Just move, the angel says. Move, Jesus says. Move, and I’ll help you with all the rest.

In the name of Jesus.  Amen