Sermon Archive

“…our existence is but a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.” Thus wrote the Russian-American novelist Vladimir Nabokov (1899–1977) in his autobiographical volume Speak, Memory. Life: “a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.”

This utterly pessimistic “take” on human existence is a view held by many today. And I can imagine that it would also sum up the “before-dawn” outlook of the women spoken of in today’s gospel lesson. Quite early, before Sunday’s sunrise, Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and some other women took their spices and went dutifully to the rock-cut chamber where Jesus had been so hurriedly entombed. They wanted to administer to his corpse various final burial rites.

Jesus’s life had been for these women a ray of incomparable light. Yet Friday’s cross had seemed to engulf both Jesus’s existence and their own in that eternity of darkness called death. For them, “Hope was dead. Dreams were dead. The future was dead, because Jesus was dead.” (Mary Harris Todd, The Abingdon Women’s Preaching Annual: Series 2, Year A, p. 116)

And then when these mournful women arrived at Jesus’s tomb, they were seized by still another dread, for there they found that the entranceway to the tomb was standing wide open. The round stone covering it had somehow been rolled away. And what’s more, when they went inside, they found that Jesus’s body was no longer there. His corpse had disappeared!

Then two dazzling beings—were they men or angels?—two dazzling beings suddenly and terrifyingly materialized right in front of their faces and proclaimed to them : “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has been raised.” (Lk. 23:5b) And with those words the women were transformed instantly from the grief of Good Friday to the joy of Easter, from the specter of death to the promise of life—just as we, too, are changed dramatically in our outlook by the fresh perspective offered to us through these same words.

No more does existence seem—either to them or to us— no more does existence seem like just “a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.” No more! And why is that? Because the light of the world has not been extinguished and cannot be extinguished—because he lives, because Christ lives indeed!

And from now on in this sermon, let’s do another “call and response,” similar to the one we did at the beginning of today’s service. So whenever I say, “Because he lives…,” I want you to shout back, “Christ lives indeed!”

OK? Well, let’s try it once, for a warm up: Because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”]

Wonderful!!! Now, are you ready for the real thing?

Because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], we know that God and not death is the ultimate power in our universe. We know that what lies on the other side of the grave is bright life, and not dark nothingness. For we know who lives on the other side of that grave: namely, Jesus Christ, the light of the world.

Because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], we know that “…death is no longer what defines life; but rather, life [has become] what defines death.” (Dale T. Irvin, in The Living Pulpit, “Death,” July-September, 1998) Thus, as that freed slave, and abolitionist, and women’s rights activist Sojourner Truth once shouted out in joy: “I’m not going to die, honey; I’m going home like a shooting star.” And that’s the same truth that’s expressed in these poetic words by the contemporary author Kathleen Norris, who happens to be “one of us Presbyterians.” She writes (from “Three Small Songs for the Muse”):

“I know for sure
that at the end
the playful stranger
who appears
is not death
but love.”

Well, that’s reason number one for Easter joy, and here’s the second, to quote two verses from this morning’s prayer hymn: Because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], “the spirit bird of hope is freed for flying; our cages of despair no longer keep us closed and life-denying”; what’s more, “the rainbow of [God’s] peace will span creation; the colors of [God’s] love will draw all humankind to adoration.” (Shirley Erena Murray, The Presbyterian Hymnal [1990], #105, vss. 2-3)

Which is quite a fancy way of saying: Because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], Easter is not the ending of an old story; it’s the beginning of a new one. So our life is not a mournful vigil over our sinful past and present. No, life is a hope-filled journey into God’s intended future.

Perhaps, even this morning, some of us are feeling depressed and down on life. And who among us isn’t likely to be feeling that way, given the newscasts we are seeing and hearing these days? Well, if that’s how we are feeling, then God is calling on us today to put all of that behind us. For through this Easter morning story of the empty tomb, first related to us by those women of old, we now know that a perpetual hope for newness in life is the Easter gift God is offering us—a perpetual hope for newness in life.

So, when we turn on the TV and we’re tempted to say to ourselves, “I don’t think it’s really possible for peace to ever come on earth; I don’t think it’s really possible for the warm flame of human loving to be sparked into life anew"—whenever we feel that way, let us call to mind that in the aftermath of that ultimate human tragedy—Jesus’s crucifixion on a Friday long ago—Mary Magdalene, and Joanna, and Mary the mother of James, and the other women also felt no hope or expectation. Yet at the tomb, they discovered that even the worst evil imaginable, even the killing of God’s fully innocent Son—even that evil can in fact be overcome. For they found the tomb empty and heard the words, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here; he has been raised.”

Yes, because, against all odds—because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], so, too, against all odds, God can bring peace on earth, and God can spark to new life the warm flame of human loving.

You see, because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], it is still possible for us to draw on Christ’s wisdom and strength in order to fulfill his way of living in the world. There is perpetual hope for health, happiness, peace, and good new directions in life, if we but draw on Christ’s living wisdom and strength to fulfill his way of love in our world. You see, through the Risen Christ we do have hope of a brighter future for this world, of a genuine wholeness for our lives. For through the living Christ, we can receive that power spoken of in this morning’s First Lesson—the power to preach peace, to do good, and to heal the oppressed. And how can that be? Well, it can be because all the beauty, the goodness, the love, the courage, and the graciousness that Jesus embodied during his earthly ministry—all of those are not dead. They are still alive and still available to us even now. In the words of the contemporary poet Lucille Clifton (from, “Spring Song,” as reprinted in The Living Pulpit, January-March, 1998, p. 32), following Easter:

“…the dance of Jesus music
has hold of the air …
and the future is possible”—

So that’s reason number two for Easter joy. And here’s the third: Because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], his followers, the church, must expect to be constantly surprised by Christ. For at our head is not a dead hero, but a living Lord, who is constantly responding to the ever-changing realities of our world. The apostle Peter discovered this to his amazement in this morning’s First Lesson. He discovered that the Risen Christ and the Holy Spirit were leading him, on the basis of Jesus’s teaching of an inclusive love, to find some implications for the church’s ministry that were quite new and totally unexpected.

For the Risen Christ and the Holy Spirit were leading Peter to see that he was being called by God to baptize not only fellow Jews but also Gentiles—like us. Now, Peter could find no proof text from Scripture to justify such an action. “He [was] out on risky terrain without [any] tradition or Scripture to back him up.” And when he said, “[I]n every nation any one who fears God and does what is right is acceptable to God” (Acts 10:35)—when he said that, he was filled with a magnificent, Christ-led, Spirit-inspired thought, but one that was totally new and without any firm anchor in a biblical text. (William H. Willimon, Acts, Interpretation Series, pp. 98–99)

So, because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], the church both then, in the days of Peter, and now, in our own time, finds itself doing many new and surprising things, often without Scriptural proof texts, but nonetheless at the direction of the Risen Christ and the Holy Spirit—new and surprising things like fully including women in the ordained offices of the church; new and surprising things like fully including also persons who are gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender.

Yes, this side of the resurrection, because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], we find ourselves in an “often breathless attempt to keep up with the redemptive activity of God”; we find ourselves needing always to ask, “‘What is God doing, where on earth is God going now?’” (Willimon, p. 99)

So, let me sum up my messages for this Easter morning. First, because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], bright life awaits us on the other side of the grave.

Second, because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], our lives in this world are a journey of hope into God’s intended future. They are not a vigil of despair over our sinful past and present.

And third, because he lives… [“Christ lives indeed!”], we in the church must be prepared to receive from our Risen Christ surprising new directives for action.

Now to join with me in affirming the truth of these three sources of Easter joy, I invite you to stand and sing twice through the refrain to the gospel song “Because He Lives,” by Gloria and William Gaither (Chalice Hymnal #562). It’s on page 15 of your order of service—page 15. Let’s all sing it together. But first, George and the brass will play it through once so we can learn the melody. George!

Because he lives, I can face tomorrow;
because he lives, all fear is gone;
because I know he holds the future,
and life is worth the living just because he lives.

Amen!