“Easter Sunday”

Rev Dr Cathie Lambert

Readings - Acts 10: 34-4, John 20:1-18

I invite you to take a few moments to look at some images on the screen. I would like you to pay attention to your reaction to these images. Do you find them offensive? Or do you agree with them? What is it that strikes you about them?

These are relatively modern images displaying Jesus as a victor, a fighter, a winner. It didn’t take long, however, after Jesus’ resurrection for the followers of the non-violent Jesus to start assimilating the imperial ways into their discipleship. You only need to look at some of the passages from the New Testament letters to see the imagery of being a soldier for Christ being used.

Before we all begin to think that this does not apply to us today and that we don’t use this violent language. Let me show you another example. Some of you may have noticed that I used different words to our first hymn today. The first verse is fine, but let me show you the words to the second verse.

Love’s redeeming work is done; Hallelujah!

fought the fight, the battle won; Hallelujah!

vain the stone, the watch, the seal: Hallelujah!

Christ has burst the gates of Hell. Hallelujah!

I wonder how many of us would have sung those words without a second thought? I know I certainly have in the past. This language of victory, battle and enemies is actually very difficult to avoid in our hymn book. Choosing hymns for Sunday worship is sometimes one of the most difficult tasks of leading worship. I find it particularly difficult at Easter. Many of the songs about Jesus’ resurrection have a “Nah, nah, nah, nah, nah” feel to them. The message is often, “Take that forces of evil”, or “Look who’s laughing now”, or “In your face Devil”.

Scholar, Walter Wink, contends that the world’s first meta-myth is the myth of redemptive violence. It is the notion that violence is what defeats evil and that killing the bad guys is the right thing to do and it is violence that saves us. Jesus wanted to subvert this dominant myth of redemptive violence with anew myth of redemptive love; that is radical, unconditional, inclusive, vulnerable love.

That is what we are celebrating today – this story of redemptive love. Might doesn’t make right, love does. Love wins – and the vulnerable, risky, seemingly foolish and naïve ways of Jesus, the way of the cross, are the real and best way to live.

 The Pharisees and the Chief Priests certainly thought Jesus was a fool, a dangerous fool, but still a fool. People were curious, they came to take a look at this itinerant preacher, but when it came down to it, many quickly returned to the lives they knew and were comfortable in. It was those who had nothing to lose who gained the most from him. Those who were pushed to the fringes of society and those usually overlooked. His words and actions brought healing and wholeness to these people and transformed their lives.

 Those who followed him, hoped that he would rise victorious and conquer the oppressive ways of the day and free them all. Instead, Jesus lived with integrity all the way to the cross. What a joke? What foolishness? This was not the way of a Messiah. Rather than bringing perfection, he embraced the way of woundedness. Rather than resort to victory through violence, he chose the way of peace and compassion. This man, Jesus, looked nothing like success and nothing like the salvation the people expected.

Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians says, “For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.” Interestingly, today, people might talk more about the foolishness of believing in the resurrection. But here, the emphasis is on the cross. For me, this is the good news. Why? Because the way of the cross is about real life. In life we are wounded, we are hurt, we mess up, we doubt, we break. Life is not about constant success and rising above our humanness to be superhuman. All I can say is, thank goodness. Thank goodness Jesus was human, lived with his own and others pain and woundedness.

  The good news this Easter Sunday, a day that celebrates the foolishness of Christ, is that despite our frailties, our weaknesses, our own human nature, there is always life and hope. The way of Jesus, foolish as it may seem, is a way that meets us where we are, hiding away, on the edge of community or in our self-imposed prisons and brings us out into the spotlight, to centre stage.

This way is one of unconditional love and grace, one of hope and compassion, and one of life. It goes far deeper than physical restoration or healing. It goes to the heart of who we are and beckons us to live life in all its fullness. So this Easter, as we celebrate once again the foolishness of the cross and the folly of believing that life can prevail, let us hear a personal invitation for each of us to rise up and live. The life of Christ lives on in us. Not in the shape of a sword or armour, but in the form of light, life, hope and love. It is not a popular path in a society of winners, but it is the way of Jesus. Perhaps that is why we are here this morning. We dare to believe that a man over two thousand years ago brings life to us still today. We dare to believe that a man over two thousand years ago brings light to us still today. We dare to believe that a man over two thousand years ago brings hope to us still today. We dare to believe, no matter how foolish that may seem.