This bilingual homily was preached at the joint Easter Vigil for San Andres and All Saints Park Slope on April 8, 2023.
The events that led up to Easter morning are as familiar as they are tragic: a friend betrayed another for thirty pieces of silver; the political and religious authorities scapegoated a rising leader; an innocent man was blamed and crucified, and his friends and family were left to suffer in silence. These events occurred two millennia ago but they also happen still today.
We know this is the way the world works. We know this is how people work. But this is not the way that God works. And so tonight, on this Easter vigil, we gather first in darkness, to retell some of the most ancient stories about the way that God moves in the world.
In the beginning, we hear how God created light out of darkness, bringing forth life and hope from nothing. We then hear of the horrors of slavery and exploitation, and of how God freed Israel from their Egyptian captors in the story of the Exodus. And thus we learn that God is not only the author of light, but is also the liberator of the oppressed. Then we hear of Isaiah’s prophecy of a savior for all mankind, and then of Ezekiel’s valley of dry bones, restored to life by the Spirit of God.
Story after story. These stories build and layer and taken together help us to discern the character of the One we worship. This is a God who intervenes into human history in love, justice, and compassion; a God who acts powerfully to bring light out of darkness, and who liberates the poor and the oppressed.
And yet as Christians, there is still one more story that we tell about how God acts in the world, and that is the Easter story.
Later in tonight's service, in the reading from the Gospel of Matthew, we hear that the soldiers posted to guard that day and the women who went to Jesus’ tomb that morning expected to find nothing more than Jesus’s lifeless body. In such circumstances, death and sorrow was all that the world had ever taught them to expect. But the Gospel writer tells us that on that morning they discovered something different: an angel pointing to signs of hope and life. The angel said to the women, “Be not afraid!” and “He is not here; for [Jesus] has been raised.”
When the women rush back to tell the other disciples, the Good News that they proclaim ultimately spreads and ushers in a new way of being in the world, a way of life that is still shaping and reshaping our communities of San Andres and All Saints today. This is a way of love, of life, of hope…
And of mystery.
Now there are many ways of approaching the meaning of Easter. Growing up in Texas, I attended school with many Evangelical Christians who spoke of Easter as a kind of one-way ticket to salvation. Everything for them was black or white. You believed or you did not believe. You were saved or you were not saved. There was no room for ambiguity, mystery, or doubt. Which is ironic because the Gospel stories of the Resurrection are filled with ambiguity, mystery, and doubt.
Over the next several Sundays, Christians around the world will be hearing stories about how the Resurrected Christ appeared to the disciples, and my hope is that this year you will take special note of how these stories are filled with ambiguity and mystery.
We will hear of how Christ appeared to the disciples with visible wounds still on, somehow both alive and yet crucified at the same time. When Jesus appears, he is both physically present, his body real enough for Thomas to touch his wounds, yet he also appears and disappears from the locked rooms where the disciples were hiding in fear.
My favorite stories along these lines are those where Jesus visits the disciples but is not immediately recognized. This occurs on the Road to Emmaus, with Mary Magdalene at the Tomb, and in his appearance to the seven disciples. In each instance, those who were closest to him thought they were speaking to a stranger at first, and it was only later that realized they were speaking to the Resurrected Christ.
These strange and beautiful stories serve as a reminder that even those closest to Jesus struggled to say what God was doing in the Resurrection. Two millennia later, I’ll admit I’m struggling myself. In contrast to the certainty of some Christians, the Gospels themselves seem to struggle to convey what this mysterious sign of love and hope means for us today.
Easter has definitely happened but its meaning goes well beyond neat and tidy formulations. But instead of being troubled by this, I hope you will consider it an invitation to a lifetime of reflection.
I’ll conclude with this:
Recently I heard an interpretation of Easter which has transformed my understanding of what we’re doing today. This interpretation comes from the Episcopal priest and theologian Patrick Cheng. In a recent lecture, he noted that in the Resurrection, God overcame the ultimate binary between life and death.
His point is this. We humans love to divide our world into black and white, light and darkness, male and female, citizen or alien, saved and damned. We divide our communities into English and Spanish, rich and poor, white and everyone else, gay and straight. Yet the ultimate division, the one at the very core of our existence, is the binary between life and death – and at the Resurrection, God’s love blurs that line.
The Resurrection transgresses that ultimate binary, and so then the breaking down of other divisions naturally follows. To paraphrase the apostle Paul, in a community that is truly rooted in the Resurrection, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female…” I would add, “There is no longer Spanish or English, citizen or alien, gay or straight, cis or transgender…for all of us are knit together as children of God.”
Easter, then, yes begins in darkness but it ends in divine mystery and a reconciled community that is being continuously surprised and reshaped by God’s love. May it always be so. Amen.
Now there are many ways of approaching the meaning of Easter. Growing up in Texas, I attended school with many Evangelical Christians who spoke of Easter as a kind of one-way ticket to salvation. Everything for them was black or white. You believed or you did not believe. You were saved or you were not saved. There was no room for ambiguity, mystery, or doubt. Which is ironic because the Gospel stories of the Resurrection are filled with ambiguity, mystery, and doubt.
Over the next several Sundays, Christians around the world will be hearing stories about how the Resurrected Christ appeared to the disciples, and my hope is that this year you will take special note of how these stories are filled with ambiguity and mystery.
We will hear of how Christ appeared to the disciples with visible wounds still on, somehow both alive and yet crucified at the same time. When Jesus appears, he is both physically present, his body real enough for Thomas to touch his wounds, yet he also appears and disappears from the locked rooms where the disciples were hiding in fear.
My favorite stories along these lines are those where Jesus visits the disciples but is not immediately recognized. This occurs on the Road to Emmaus, with Mary Magdalene at the Tomb, and in his appearance to the seven disciples. In each instance, those who were closest to him thought they were speaking to a stranger at first, and it was only later that realized they were speaking to the Resurrected Christ.
These strange and beautiful stories serve as a reminder that even those closest to Jesus struggled to say what God was doing in the Resurrection. Two millennia later, I’ll admit I’m struggling myself. In contrast to the certainty of some Christians, the Gospels themselves seem to struggle to convey what this mysterious sign of love and hope means for us today.
Easter has definitely happened but its meaning goes well beyond neat and tidy formulations. But instead of being troubled by this, I hope you will consider it an invitation to a lifetime of reflection.
I’ll conclude with this:
Recently I heard an interpretation of Easter which has transformed my understanding of what we’re doing today. This interpretation comes from the Episcopal priest and theologian Patrick Cheng. In a recent lecture, he noted that in the Resurrection, God overcame the ultimate binary between life and death.
His point is this. We humans love to divide our world into black and white, light and darkness, male and female, citizen or alien, saved and damned. We divide our communities into English and Spanish, rich and poor, white and everyone else, gay and straight. Yet the ultimate division, the one at the very core of our existence, is the binary between life and death – and at the Resurrection, God’s love blurs that line.
The Resurrection transgresses that ultimate binary, and so then the breaking down of other divisions naturally follows. To paraphrase the apostle Paul, in a community that is truly rooted in the Resurrection, “There is no longer Jew or Greek, there is no longer slave or free, there is no longer male and female…” I would add, “There is no longer Spanish or English, citizen or alien, gay or straight, cis or transgender…for all of us are knit together as children of God.”
Easter, then, yes begins in darkness but it ends in divine mystery and a reconciled community that is being continuously surprised and reshaped by God’s love. May it always be so. Amen.
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Los eventos que condujeron a la mañana de Pascua son tan familiares como trágicos: un amigo traicionó a otro por treinta monedas de plata; las autoridades políticas y religiosas culparon a un líder en ascenso; un hombre inocente fue crucificado y sus amigos y familiares quedaron en silencio sufriendo. Estos eventos ocurrieron hace dos milenios, pero todavía suceden hoy en día.
Sabemos que así es como funciona el mundo. Sabemos que así es como funciona la sociedad. Pero así no es como funciona Dios. Entonces, esta noche, en esta vigilia de Pascua, nos reunimos primero en la oscuridad para contar algunas de las historias más antiguas sobre cómo Dios se mueve en el mundo.
Al principio, escuchamos cómo Dios creó la luz a partir de la oscuridad, trayendo vida y esperanza de la nada. Luego escuchamos sobre los horrores de la esclavitud y la explotación, y sobre cómo Dios liberó a Israel de sus captores egipcios en la historia del Éxodo. Y así aprendemos que Dios no solo es el autor de la luz, sino también el liberador de los oprimidos. Luego escuchamos la profecía de Isaías sobre un salvador para toda la humanidad, y luego el valle de los huesos secos de Ezequiel, restaurado a la vida por el Espíritu de Dios.
Historia tras historia. Estas historias se construyen y se superponen y juntas nos ayudan a discernir el carácter del Dios que adoramos. Este es un Dios que interviene en la historia humana con amor, justicia y compasión; un Dios que actúa poderosamente para sacar la luz de la oscuridad y que libera a los pobres y oprimidos.
Y sin embargo, como cristianos, todavía contamos una historia más sobre cómo Dios actúa en el mundo, y esa es la historia de Pascua.
Mas tarde en este servicio, cuando escuchamos el evangelio de Mateo de hoy, escucharemos que los soldados que fueron enviados para guardar ese día y las mujeres que fueron al sepulcro de Jesús esa mañana esperaban encontrar nada más que el cuerpo sin vida de Jesús. En tales circunstancias, la muerte y la tristeza eran todo lo que el mundo les había enseñado a esperar. Pero el escritor del evangelio nos dice que esa mañana descubrieron algo diferente: un ángel que señalaba signos de esperanza y vida. El ángel les dijo a las mujeres: "¡No teman!" y "No está aquí; Jesús ha resucitado".
Cuando las mujeres corrieron de regreso para contar a los otros discípulos, la Buena Nueva que proclamaron inauguró una nueva forma de ser en el mundo, una forma de vida que todavía está transformando nuestras comunidades de San Andrés y Todos los Santos hoy en día. Esta es una forma de amor, de vida, de esperanza...
Y de misterio.
Hay muchas formas de abordar el significado de la Pascua. Al crecer en Texas, asistí a la escuela con muchos cristianos evangélicos que hablaban de la Pascua como una especie de boleto directo a la salvación. Todo para ellos era blanco o negro. Creías o no creías. Estabas salvado o no salvado. No había lugar para la ambigüedad, el misterio o la duda. Que es irónico porque las historias del Evangelio de la Resurrección están llenas de ambigüedad, misterio y duda.
En los próximos domingos, los cristianos de todo el mundo escucharán historias sobre cómo el Cristo Resucitado se apareció a los discípulos, y mi esperanza es que este año tomes nota de cómo estas historias están llenas de ambigüedad y misterio.
Escucharemos cómo Cristo se apareció a los discípulos con heridas visibles, de alguna manera vivo y crucificado al mismo tiempo. Cuando Jesús aparece, está físicamente presente, su cuerpo es suficientemente real como para que Tomás toque sus heridas, pero también aparece y desaparece de las habitaciones cerradas donde los discípulos se escondían por miedo.
Mis historias favoritas en este sentido son aquellas en las que Jesús visita a los discípulos pero no es reconocido de inmediato. Esto ocurre en el camino a Emaús, con María Magdalena en el sepulcro y en su aparición a los siete discípulos. En cada instancia, aquellos que estaban más cerca de él pensaron que estaban hablando con un extraño al principio, y solo más tarde se dieron cuenta de que estaban hablando con el Cristo Resucitado.
Estas extrañas y hermosas historias sirven como recordatorio de que incluso aquellos más cercanos a Jesús lucharon por decir lo que Dios estaba haciendo en la Resurrección. Dos milenios después, admito que estoy luchando tambien. En contraste con la certeza de algunos cristianos, los propios Evangelios parecen luchar por transmitir lo que este misterioso signo de amor y esperanza significa para nosotros hoy.
La Pascua ha sucedido, pero su significado va mucho más allá de las formulaciones simples y limpias. Pero en lugar de preocuparnos por esto, espero que lo consideres como una invitación a una vida de reflexión.
Terminaré con esto.
Recientemente escuché una interpretación de la Pascua que ha transformado mi comprensión de lo que estamos haciendo hoy. Esta proviene del sacerdote episcopal y teólogo Patrick Cheng. En una conferencia reciente, señaló que en la Resurrección, Dios superó la frontera final entre la vida y la muerte.
Su punto es este. A los humanos nos encanta dividir nuestro mundo en blanco y negro, luz y oscuridad, hombre y mujer, ciudadano o extranjero, salvado y condenado. Dividimos nuestras comunidades en inglés y español, ricos y pobres, blancos y no blancos, gay y hetero. Sin embargo, la división final y mas importante de nuestra existencia, es la frontera entre la vida y la muerte, y en la Resurrección, el amor de Dios borra esa línea.
La Resurrección transgrede la división final entre la vida y la muerte, y por lo tanto, la ruptura de otras divisiones sigue naturalmente. Como dice el apóstol Pablo, en una comunidad verdaderamente arraigada en la Resurrección, "Ya no hay judío ni griego, esclavo ni libre, hombre ni mujer..." Yo agregaría, "Ya no hay español o inglés, ciudadano o extranjero, gay o hetero, transgenero o cis... porque todos somos hechos en el imagen de Dios".
Entonces, si, la Pascua comienza en la oscuridad pero termina en un misterio divino y en una comunidad reconciliada que está sorprendida y transformada por el amor de Dios. Que siempre sea con nosotros. Amén.
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