I have an Easter story for you. There was a third grade teacher planning a special spring project. It was difficult to plan projects for her class because there was one kid, Billy, who really couldn’t keep up with the class any more. The teacher wished his parents would transfer him to a special school so that Billy could be protected from embarrassment. When it came to projects or anything out of the ordinary, the teacher was always afraid that the other kids would laugh at Billy’s efforts.

The teacher finally thought of an idea which Billy might manage. She distributed to each student an empty Leggs container, you know the kind of package that looks like an egg. “Put something in the egg which represents spring”, she said. “Then bring it to class and tell us about it.”

The next day there were 20 Leggs eggs on her desk. She opened one and out flew a butterfly. “Whoopee”, said the class. “That’s mine”, said Mary. “Very good, Mary”, said the teacher. She opened the next one and lifted out a stone. “Who wants to tell us about this”. Tommy said, “I do. It has fresh green moss growing on it.” “Very original”, said the teacher.

She opened the next. It was empty. She turned it over to make sure and nothing came out. The class started laughing. “That’s mine,” said Billy. “Thank you, Billy, but it’s empty”. And Billy said, “In the spring, the tomb was empty and that brought new life to everyone.”

A few weeks later Billy died quite suddenly of a brain tumor. On his casket, his classmates placed 20 empty Leggs containers, all empty.

I tell that story because it fits with the Gospel we just read. The women go to the tomb and find it empty. They do not see Jesus and certainly do not touch him. All they get is the message that the tomb is empty. And that Jesus will meet them in the future when they get back home. End of story. Not only that, but the most ancient manuscripts of the Gospel of Mark stop right here. Empty tomb. A promise about the future. Nothing more. That’s the end of story.

Some of us are blessed with the kind of faith that convinces us about the resurrection. Some of us have quite dramatic experiences which encourage our faith. But many of us also experience great long stretches of emptiness. Maybe we got up this Easter morning hoping that things would be different, and they aren’t.

If you are in that category remember the Gospel of an empty tomb. Remember the promise that Jesus will meet us in the future. And remember Billy who was a witness to the power of that promise.

Easter Vigil
April 3, 2010
Luke 24:1-12

Anticipation of Joy

According to the calendar it is not yet April 4, the date of Easter this year. According to the calendar this is Saturday evening, and Easter always comes on a Sunday. So how come we are here in church singing Glory to God on high with gusto - as if it were already Easter and the sun was shining on the daffodils. Are we like children who have sneaked downstairs on Christmas Eve and opened our presents before it was really time? Have we had such a rigorous Lent that we just couldn’t hang for a few hours longer? Is it Easter already or not

And then there was the Gospel we just read, the story of the women at the tomb. They haven’t yet seen the Risen Lord. They have no vision of Jesus in some kind of radiant glory. As a matter of fact, these women are still terrified. All they have is an empty tomb, the strange announcement that Jesus is risen and the reminder of what Jesus had talked about – his own betrayal and death and “rising again”, whatever that might mean. So I ask you, is this an Easter story or not?

My answer is that, yes, this is Easter already. And, yes, the story of the women who are still afraid is an Easter story. It may even be the only kind of Easter story that can make sense to us. If we are going to experience Easter, it will probably happen like it happened to the women at the tomb. We also haven’t yet seen the Risen Lord in his glory. We are still here in Indianapolis, Indiana, in the midst of a recession and in the midst of a world that seems hell bent on going to hell. There is plenty for us to be afraid of. All we have tonight is the announcement given to the women and the reminder of what Jesus talked about – suffering, death, and rising again. Is that really enough to make Easter – that announcement and that reminder? Is that enough to conquer our fear? Is that enough to open up the tombs of our lives and to rob them of dread and despair?

We might as well face the fact that it is not enough to tell us exactly what happened back there 20 centuries ago. It is not enough to tell us how what happened did happen. It is not enough to satisfy our curiosity or our need to have everything figured and explained scientifically. It is not enough to make us understand what being raised from the dead really means or what it looks like.

But, yes, it is enough to create the hope and joy of Easter. It was, for example, enough to give the women courage to run from the tomb and share the announcement and the reminder with a frightened bunch of men. It was enough to turn those men into the apostles who spread the announcement and the reminder throughout the known world. It was enough to proclaim that nothing, not even death, could get rid of Jesus.

So let us listen once more to the announcement: He has been raised from the dead. Not even death could get rid of him. Let us listen once more to the reminder: “Remember how he told you, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Yes, suffering and death are part of life, but they do not have the last word. The last word is Life. Is that enough to create Easter hope and joy for us tonight? Is it enough to make us shout Alleluia? Let’s try it on for size right now.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

Palm Sunday C 4/1/10
Matt 21:1-11 (Palm Liturgy); Matthew 26:36-27:66 (Passion)

The Crowd that Cheers is the Crowd that Kills

Today is the liturgy of contrasts. Perhaps nothing captures that contrast more than comparing the crowd which cheers Jesus as he enters Jerusalem and the crowd which yells “Kill Him”. That is the contrast we have acted out this morning singing All Glory Laud and Honor as marched into church with palms and then speaking our part in the dramatic reading of the Passion: Crucify Him. Let his blood be upon us. Could it be that we are supposed to understand that some of the same people yelled both Hosanna and Crucify Him? Could it be that we are supposed to see ourselves as people quite capable of both cheering and killing him?

Yes, I think that is what we are supposed to see today. And if we don’t see it, we are in real trouble. There is the danger of anti-Semitism, of thinking it is Jews not people like us who try to get rid of Jesus. And there is the danger of underestimating Jesus, of weakening him, unless we see that he is so threatening to our normal way of doing things that people do want to get rid of him. If we preach a nice gentle Jesus, we have to invent nasty people to get rid of him.

I consider myself to be a pretty decent human being. By and large I am responsible, maybe even generous and kind. Am I also a killer? One of my strongest memories is of an incident which happened probably 40 years ago. I remember getting so angry at some one, that I realized I could kill him. I don’t remember his name. I certainly don’t remember what caused the anger. It must have been trivial. But I can see his face now. And my body still remembers that flood of adrenaline sweeping over me. I could be a killer.

My reading during Lent this year has included some things about the social and economic conditions in Galilee during Jesus’ lifetime. It was a time when small peasant farmers were losing their land because of debt. The rich were getting extremely rich and the poor were getting destitute. It was a time when both Jesus, who probably came from that peasant class, and his landless followers could have meant the Lord’s prayer literally. Give us our bread today because we can’t grow wheat anymore. Forgive us our debts or we will go under. And the landowners who heard that prayer would have heard it as a threat. Demand for bread. Demand to cancel debt. That’s revolution. I had been thinking about things like that and about some of the rhetoric of the current health care struggle in Congress. I stayed up to watch the final vote and some of the debate which led up to it. The political posturing was so intense that my blood pressure was high enough for me to stroke out. As one of the members cast his vote in support of health care, another shouted out, “Baby Killer!” This is on the floor of the US Congress!

That voting Representative was no more a “baby killer” than I am, nor was his vote a support for abortion. All of these things collide as politicians find expediency to position themselves with their constituencies to look good for the next election. I am beginning to think that none of them really care about providing healthcare to everyone – which I thought was original purpose. Now all the politicians are interested in is how their vote sets them up for the election. The big question in Washington is what is ‘expedient,’ not what is right or beneficial. For all I know, the guy that shouted “baby killer” might be a nice guy, a good guy, and loyal church member. How can such a good guy, or any of those politicians be so far from, at least in my understanding of the Jesus of the gospel?

Remember Thomas Jefferson? Perhaps the most talented President we have ever had. An architect, a scholar, a benefactor — and a slave owner. How could such a good man have been a slave owner? Well, some say, he was good to his slaves. Maybe, yet the fact is, that a good man was part of a bad system. And didn’t do much to change it.

Good people. Parts of bad systems. That’s us. It’s not that all people, or all politicians, are evil. That’s not what racism means. I have not personally caused hundreds of years of slavery and all its repercussions. But I am part of a system that profited from and still profits from oppression. I don’t like that. And I am a pretty good person. But I am part of something that continues to be terribly wrong in this country. That’s a fact. I can both sing Hosanna and be a killer.

So that’s why I need Jesus. Why all our systems need Jesus. We need somebody who is not gentle. We need someone more powerful than the human structures that trap good people. We need someone who was put on a cross by good people like ourselves. Someone put on the cross by a bad system made up of good people. We need someone that a cross could not get rid of. Someone still around to threaten and redeem us, and threaten and redeem our systems.

Hosanna. Crucify Him. His blood be on us. All Glory, Laud and Honor to thee Redeemer, King.

The following video was brought to our attention by Nancy Adams and concerns former parishioner Susie Mallory.

My favorite memory of Jason has to do with how Jason helped us as a congregation to understand that even though we did not have the huge kitchen we could still give a mean party for around 100.

Several years ago Father Steve asked me to pull together a Mardi Gras celebration but he was concerned that it had to be for a fairly small group. I told Jason that I was sure we could give a really nice party for around 100 people (an unthinkable number to Father Steve) in the parish hall if we had standing cocktail tables. And because I knew how to make them 3" high in cardboard, I was sure they could be made 4 feet high of wood and would store flat. Jason jumped in and we made them together in the organ shop.

I have always felt that music and food do more to bring a congregation than anything else and I believe that Jason's contribution on both levels made us a much stronger church. How many gatherings have I seen at All Saints for large groups where those tables were used? I have lost count.

And so when we get gather together to celebrate in the parish hall this Fat Tuesday, I will think of the sweet unassuming man who made the tables with his own hands. Jason Overall.

— Greg Allen

Amazing Grace Techno - Computer Controlled Christmas Lights from Richard Holdman on Vimeo.