Easter People in a Good Friday World

Grace and peace to you from Christ, the Risen One.

Today is a day of celebration.

After all, Christ is risen.

Nothing should overshadow our joy.

On this day, Jesus—betrayed and denied, then wrongly accused, convicted, and executed—overcame death and the grave.

I am grateful that, “God so loved the world as to give the Only Begotten One, that whoever believes may not die, but have eternal life.”

Truly grateful that, “God sent the Only Begotten into the world not to condemn the world, but that through the Only Begotten the world might be saved.”

And yet, despite the joy of this day and my gratitude for Jesus’ incarnation, the phrase that continues to hold great meaning for me is, “We are called to be Easter people in a Good Friday world”.

We live in a Good Friday world, my friends.

And, because we do, sometimes it can be hard to feel joy.

But we must—because Jesus’ resurrection is cause for joy.

But that doesn’t mean we cannot also feel grief.

Humans are complex beings.

We are capable of complex emotions.

Complex emotions that sometimes mean we feel conflicting emotions at the same time.

I’ve no doubt that the disciples felt great joy at seeing their friend and their rabbi, after they thought he was dead.

But seeing him did not erase the memory of the pain and suffering he endured.

It didn’t erase the horror of his crucifixion.

Or the knowledge that Jesus wasn’t staying.

He was returning to Abba God.

His appearances to them were to let them know that Empire had no power over him.

Death had been defeated.

And still, there was joy.

Jesus spent time with them—shared meals with them

And breathed the Holy Spirit on them.

Joy and grief—both/and.

A young man came to me because he was terrified of being deported.

He said he wasn’t sleeping.

He said there was a heaviness in the pit of his stomach that would not go away.

His anxiety and his sorrow were palpable.

He said he has built a home here and he doesn’t want to leave.

But, every day, people around him disappearing—and he is afraid.

I said I would pray for him but that felt entirely inadequate.

I felt sad and helpless.

It was a Good Friday moment.

And then, on Thursday, nineteen of us gathered for an Agape Supper.

It was an eclectic group of people—some longtime members of Emanuel, some people from the community, and some friends.

There was an overwhelming feeling of fellowship and community.

For me, I could not help but feel like this is what the early Christian communities that Luke describes in Acts must have been like.

My heart was filled with joy at the opportunity to break bread with this Body of Christ.

It was an Easter moment that made me forget that we are living in a Good Friday world.

Also this week, a woman came to the church, looking for help.

Her husband had been detained and deported.

She had been injured and was unable to work.

With the loss of both incomes, she and her child were in danger of losing their home.

She was, of course, overwhelmed with concern.

I was sad that there aren’t adequate social services to protect people like her from eviction.

I was angry that immigrant families are being torn apart.

Angry because this has nothing to do with “the worst of the worst” and everything to do with racism.

It was a Good Friday moment.

And then, on Friday, a group of us marched to places where violence had occurred in our community.

Violence against one another that reminds of the violence that Jesus experienced because his message to love one another was subversive and threatened the established social order.

Our intrepid little group marched, sang, prayed, and remembered community members whose lives had been cut short by violence.

There was a sense of love and community that gave each of us hope that humanity can be better.

We can love each other as Jesus commanded us to.

We can stop the violence.

We can teach our children how to deal with their anger—how to turn the other cheek, instead of resorting to violence.

We can be Christ-like and show people struggling that the Kin-dom is near.

We can be hope for the world.

It was an Easter moment that made me forget that we are living in a Good Friday world.

I don’t post very much on social media.

What was once a platform for people to share with their family and friends has become a place of disinformation and divisiveness.

So, I mostly try to avoid it.

But last week, I shared a post of the Palm Sunday Witness in Trenton.

It was clear from the post that there were clergy participating in the event.

And yet, someone responded to that post with, “Palm Sunday is a day that is a day to celebrate when Jesus entered Jerusalem.

It is not very Christian to protest on this day or any day.”

I lament that this is not an isolated sentiment.

Our vice-president and the White House press secretary both think they have a better knowledge of Christianity than the pope.

I lament that the woman who wrote comment on my post missed the fact that Jesus’ procession into Jerusalem was, in fact, a form of protest—a rejection of the violence of Empire and the injustice of oppressive systems.

I lament that she missed the fact that Jesus overturning tables in the temple was an act of protest against exploitation.

Or that Jesus’ command to love our neighbor means that, sometimes, loving our neighbor means protesting against systems that promote injustices against those neighbors.

What made the comment even more painful is that it came from a woman who I have known my entire life.

A woman who is family to me.

A woman who considers herself a Christian but has bought into the Christian Nationalist doctrine that bears little to no resemblance to the teachings of Jesus.

It was a Good Friday moment.

But a little later today, I will baptize three children.

Three children whose mother now feels enough of a part of this church that she wants her children to be baptized here.

Three children who I will baptize with water and the Spirit.

Three beautiful children who I will anoint with oil and who will forevermore be part of this Emanuel family.

I am overwhelmed with joy at this opportunity to share the love of God with these children and their family.

If ever there was an Easter moment to help me forget that we are living in a Good Friday world, this will be it.

Praise Jesus, the Resurrected One!

The point, my friends, is not to mistake feelings of grief as the absence of joy.

These are complicated times.

Terrible things are happening.

We should feel grief at those things.

But we are called to be Easter people in these Good Friday times.

We are called to remember that we are beloved of God.

Called by name and claimed as God’s own.

We are recipients of God’s abundant grace—forgiven for all our human shortcomings.

We are followers of Jesus, the Resurrected One!

We are called to remember that every day is Easter because Jesus overcame death and the grave.

And that victory was not a one-time occurrence.

It is always and forever.

We are Easter people today, tomorrow, and every day.

Thanks be to God!

May this meditation on God’s word keep our hearts and minds on Christ Jesus. Amen.