Resurrection Movement
Easter Sunday, 2009
Good morning. My name is David Ensign, and I’m here to recruit you!
You will have recognized, no doubt, echoes of the late Harvey Milk and his signature greeting as he invited people to join the gay liberation movement of the 1970s.
Why invoke that memory today? Easter Sunday, 2009?
What if, in our call to worship, we heard not only an invitation to join our hearts to an ancient story and to engage our spirits in live-giving ritual, but also a call to join our lives to a movement for human liberation? What if, in the invitation to bow our heads in prayer we heard not only a call to acknowledge our dependence upon God but also a call to join our lives to a movement for radical transformation?
What if, in the call to follow Jesus, we heard not merely an invitation to join a religious institution, but instead a beckoning to join a movement of resurrection?
If the church is, as the apostle Paul suggested, the body of Christ in the world, then it cannot be reduced to mere institution for it is a living body that must, most surely, move … or die.
The time has long since come for the church to move. For a church that moves nothing, that risks nothing, that transforms nothing is worth nothing.
What better season to proclaim this than Easter?
On the other hand, we could be like the first disciples as depicted in the oldest gospel, Mark. The women go to the tomb to anoint the body and find it empty. When the young man in white tells them that Jesus has been raised, they flee in amazement and terror and don’t say a word because they are afraid.
I’ve always been fond of that stark ending to Mark’s gospel, and am convinced that it was the original text onto which some later scribe attached the longer ending that leaves the disciples looking far braver and ready for the work of sharing the good news.
No, I imagine paralyzing fear was the initial reality the disciples faced. In the face of fear, nothing much ever changes.
Fear freezes us, starting with our hearts and minds.
When I try to put myself in the disciples’ shoes at that moment I imagine mostly fear and trembling. Jesus has just been crucified – the empire’s response to voices that threaten to subvert its power and domination. We could very well be next. Hiding out for a good long while seems like a perfectly sensible plan in the face of looming danger.
I wonder how many of us have entertained that thought these days. In the face of an economic crisis that looms like a threatening storm over so much these days, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while? In the face of senseless yet seemingly endless war, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while? In the face of hatred and bigotry aimed at those long excluded from the church on account of sexuality, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while? In the face of our own personal demons, diseases and distresses, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while?
Can I get an “amen” from all those who would simply like to get away for a while?
I know I would sometimes. And, indeed, there is nothing wrong with getting away for awhile from time to time. Jesus retreated to the wilderness to be alone and to the garden to pray. Getting away can restore and revive us, and that is all to the good.
But when getting away for a bit becomes escape instead of restoration then we become like Monty Python’s “brave” Sir Robin: “run away! Run away!” instead of confronting what demands confrontation.
What is it that demands confrontation?
The Apostle Paul understood perfectly well, and even made a list: hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, the sword, death, rulers, things present, things to come, powers, height and depth, among others. We can translate those first-century threats to our own time quite easily and accurately.
Hardship? Surely we understand that, especially in the current economic crisis, as jobs disappear right along with life savings.
Distress? We feel that in relation to the tenor of our times, and we also feel it in our personal lives as we struggle with grief and loss, with sickness and separation.
Persecution? As a straight, white, Protestant man I don’t experience a lot of that in my own life, but I certainly understand the need to live in solidarity with those in my midst who do – my GLBT friends, the migrant laborers who gather down the hill from our house looking for work, women in church and society still after all these years, my Muslim friends to name but a few.
The sword? I am grateful to live mostly unthreatened by violence, but I know that is part of my own privilege not shared by hundreds of millions of sisters and brothers around the world.
We can all too easily do the work of translating Paul’s list.
These things demand confrontation because they threaten to separate us from God.
They give voice to a loud, clanging and persistent “No” as they announce the via negativa – the way of death and destruction, of heartache and despair, of bitterness and cynicism.
Good Friday witnesses to the power of this way in the world.
Easter witnesses to the power of God’s mighty “Yes” in response.
That list of Paul’s? It comes in the context of his own asking what can separate us from God? He wrote to the small group of Christians in Rome – the heart of the empire – and asked, “Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword separate us from God?… No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Resurrection is God’s resounding “yes” in the face of all of that. It is God’s unfailing promise that none of that will ultimately separate us from God’s creative, boundless love.
Resurrection is not one small breath of life into a dead corpse of one human being, Jesus of Nazareth.
Resurrection is a powerful wind – the breath of life for every human being.
Resurrection is not the over-and-done-with rising up of one man.
Resurrection is the continual rising up of every man and woman who stumbles and falls along the way.
Resurrection is not a one-time event that happened on a lonely hillside in first-century Palestine. Resurrection is a movement that sweeps through people in all times and all places, and is still sweep through us – here and now – lifting us and calling us forward into new life, into new hope, into a future otherwise of God’s imagining.
It’s no wonder the first disciples were afraid, and it’s no wonder that we still feel that same fear.
But perfect love casts out all fear, and resurrection is perfect love in action.
Mary came to the tomb on the first resurrection dawn, and she wept – tears of sorrow, of loss, of fear.
But the voice of God said, “oh, Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn.”
“For you see, you are witness to the movement of resurrection, to the rising up of the spirit of God to set things right.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn.”
“For you see, you are invited now to join your soul to that same movement, and be part of the rising up yourself.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn.”
“For this is for all people, who are invited to join together in that resurrection movement, and be part of that rising up to set things right.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep don’t you mourn.
Oh Mary, don’t you weep don’t you mourn.
Caesar’s guards been swept away.
Oh Mary, don’t you weep.
One these days in the middle of the night, people gonna rise up and set things right
Caesar’s guard been swept away.
Oh Mary, don’t you weep.”
Listen! Do you hear this invitation to join your hearts to an ancient story and to engage your spirits in live-giving ritual, and also this call to join your lives to a movement for human liberation? We bow our heads in prayer to acknowledge our dependence upon God and also to join our lives to a movement for radical transformation? We follow Jesus as the church, and also as a movement of resurrection.
Sisters and brothers, there’s a resurrection wind blowing through this place. Open your spirits and be filled with its freshness. Open your hearts and be filled with its love. Open your lives and be moved by its power. Amen.
Good morning. My name is David Ensign, and I’m here to recruit you!
You will have recognized, no doubt, echoes of the late Harvey Milk and his signature greeting as he invited people to join the gay liberation movement of the 1970s.
Why invoke that memory today? Easter Sunday, 2009?
What if, in our call to worship, we heard not only an invitation to join our hearts to an ancient story and to engage our spirits in live-giving ritual, but also a call to join our lives to a movement for human liberation? What if, in the invitation to bow our heads in prayer we heard not only a call to acknowledge our dependence upon God but also a call to join our lives to a movement for radical transformation?
What if, in the call to follow Jesus, we heard not merely an invitation to join a religious institution, but instead a beckoning to join a movement of resurrection?
If the church is, as the apostle Paul suggested, the body of Christ in the world, then it cannot be reduced to mere institution for it is a living body that must, most surely, move … or die.
The time has long since come for the church to move. For a church that moves nothing, that risks nothing, that transforms nothing is worth nothing.
What better season to proclaim this than Easter?
On the other hand, we could be like the first disciples as depicted in the oldest gospel, Mark. The women go to the tomb to anoint the body and find it empty. When the young man in white tells them that Jesus has been raised, they flee in amazement and terror and don’t say a word because they are afraid.
I’ve always been fond of that stark ending to Mark’s gospel, and am convinced that it was the original text onto which some later scribe attached the longer ending that leaves the disciples looking far braver and ready for the work of sharing the good news.
No, I imagine paralyzing fear was the initial reality the disciples faced. In the face of fear, nothing much ever changes.
Fear freezes us, starting with our hearts and minds.
When I try to put myself in the disciples’ shoes at that moment I imagine mostly fear and trembling. Jesus has just been crucified – the empire’s response to voices that threaten to subvert its power and domination. We could very well be next. Hiding out for a good long while seems like a perfectly sensible plan in the face of looming danger.
I wonder how many of us have entertained that thought these days. In the face of an economic crisis that looms like a threatening storm over so much these days, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while? In the face of senseless yet seemingly endless war, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while? In the face of hatred and bigotry aimed at those long excluded from the church on account of sexuality, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while? In the face of our own personal demons, diseases and distresses, wouldn’t it be great simply to get away from here for a good long while?
Can I get an “amen” from all those who would simply like to get away for a while?
I know I would sometimes. And, indeed, there is nothing wrong with getting away for awhile from time to time. Jesus retreated to the wilderness to be alone and to the garden to pray. Getting away can restore and revive us, and that is all to the good.
But when getting away for a bit becomes escape instead of restoration then we become like Monty Python’s “brave” Sir Robin: “run away! Run away!” instead of confronting what demands confrontation.
What is it that demands confrontation?
The Apostle Paul understood perfectly well, and even made a list: hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril, the sword, death, rulers, things present, things to come, powers, height and depth, among others. We can translate those first-century threats to our own time quite easily and accurately.
Hardship? Surely we understand that, especially in the current economic crisis, as jobs disappear right along with life savings.
Distress? We feel that in relation to the tenor of our times, and we also feel it in our personal lives as we struggle with grief and loss, with sickness and separation.
Persecution? As a straight, white, Protestant man I don’t experience a lot of that in my own life, but I certainly understand the need to live in solidarity with those in my midst who do – my GLBT friends, the migrant laborers who gather down the hill from our house looking for work, women in church and society still after all these years, my Muslim friends to name but a few.
The sword? I am grateful to live mostly unthreatened by violence, but I know that is part of my own privilege not shared by hundreds of millions of sisters and brothers around the world.
We can all too easily do the work of translating Paul’s list.
These things demand confrontation because they threaten to separate us from God.
They give voice to a loud, clanging and persistent “No” as they announce the via negativa – the way of death and destruction, of heartache and despair, of bitterness and cynicism.
Good Friday witnesses to the power of this way in the world.
Easter witnesses to the power of God’s mighty “Yes” in response.
That list of Paul’s? It comes in the context of his own asking what can separate us from God? He wrote to the small group of Christians in Rome – the heart of the empire – and asked, “Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword separate us from God?… No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Resurrection is God’s resounding “yes” in the face of all of that. It is God’s unfailing promise that none of that will ultimately separate us from God’s creative, boundless love.
Resurrection is not one small breath of life into a dead corpse of one human being, Jesus of Nazareth.
Resurrection is a powerful wind – the breath of life for every human being.
Resurrection is not the over-and-done-with rising up of one man.
Resurrection is the continual rising up of every man and woman who stumbles and falls along the way.
Resurrection is not a one-time event that happened on a lonely hillside in first-century Palestine. Resurrection is a movement that sweeps through people in all times and all places, and is still sweep through us – here and now – lifting us and calling us forward into new life, into new hope, into a future otherwise of God’s imagining.
It’s no wonder the first disciples were afraid, and it’s no wonder that we still feel that same fear.
But perfect love casts out all fear, and resurrection is perfect love in action.
Mary came to the tomb on the first resurrection dawn, and she wept – tears of sorrow, of loss, of fear.
But the voice of God said, “oh, Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn.”
“For you see, you are witness to the movement of resurrection, to the rising up of the spirit of God to set things right.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn.”
“For you see, you are invited now to join your soul to that same movement, and be part of the rising up yourself.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep, don’t you mourn.”
“For this is for all people, who are invited to join together in that resurrection movement, and be part of that rising up to set things right.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep.”
“Oh Mary, don’t you weep don’t you mourn.
Oh Mary, don’t you weep don’t you mourn.
Caesar’s guards been swept away.
Oh Mary, don’t you weep.
One these days in the middle of the night, people gonna rise up and set things right
Caesar’s guard been swept away.
Oh Mary, don’t you weep.”
Listen! Do you hear this invitation to join your hearts to an ancient story and to engage your spirits in live-giving ritual, and also this call to join your lives to a movement for human liberation? We bow our heads in prayer to acknowledge our dependence upon God and also to join our lives to a movement for radical transformation? We follow Jesus as the church, and also as a movement of resurrection.
Sisters and brothers, there’s a resurrection wind blowing through this place. Open your spirits and be filled with its freshness. Open your hearts and be filled with its love. Open your lives and be moved by its power. Amen.
Labels: Resurrection
posted by David Ensign at
9:03 AM
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