Practicing Resurrection

Preached at University Worship

Southern Methodist University, February 15, 2004

 

1 Corinthians 15: 12-20

 

 

I’d like to begin my sermon by leading us in an imaginative exercise .  Imagine that you are in a cemetery.  Yes, that’s right, I said a cemetery.  Maybe it is one you have been in before, maybe it is one you drive by as you go to work, maybe it’s one you have been curious about.  Imagine you are in this cemetery and there you hear the hoot of an owl.  You turn and see two large eyes blinking at you out of the hollow of a big oak tree.  The tree is old and large and its branches stretch like fingers out into the night sky….

 

            What thoughts or feelings came up for you during this visualization?  Was it a spooky scene?  A sad scene?  Maybe some of you thought I was off my rocker.  Somehow I’d gotten my seasons mixed up and I thought it was Halloween instead of mid-February.  Maybe some of you thought you were in a Michael Jackson video…..

 

            Actually, Owls, Oak trees and cemeteries are symbols of new life!  Scientists are discovering that graveyards that shelter the last of the big trees with large cavities are life-saving sanctuaries for endangered owls.  Cemeteries, it turns out, are terrific places for animals to live. 

 

The largest white oak in Virginia is alive and well today because of the 200 year old grave of a Civil War veteran named John Carolin.  Without his historic grave site and the preservation of the grounds around it, the white oak would be gone.  Chopped down. Paved over.

 

            Cemeteries teach us that the burial of human bodies leads not to death but to life—to new life for birds, trees and other living things.

 

The assigned epistle reading in the lectionary for this Sunday in mid-February is part of the Apostle Paul’s famous chapter on the resurrection.  It seems a bit premature in the church year.  Lent is a week and a half away and we don’t get to Easter until April.  But that is the point.  Paul, and maybe the planners of the Revised Common Lectionary, knew that resurrection is always with us.

 

Today we pick up right in the middle of the chapter and right in the middle of Paul’s argument.  Paul says to the Corinthians, “Now if Christ is proclaimed as raised from the dead, how can some of you say there is no resurrection of the dead?  If there is no resurrection of the dead, then Christ has not been raised; and if Christ has not been raised then our proclamation has been in vain and your faith has been in vain.”  In other words, you can’t have your resurrection cake and eat it too.

 

Evidently there were some Corinthians who believed in the resurrection of Jesus, but did not believe in the resurrection of the dead.  Literally, the phrase Paul uses is ‘raising of the corpses.’  This idea of the raising of the corpses was offensive to some Corinthians.  It was not the stuff of Christian hope, but a scenario for a horror story!  It seems that some of them had been influenced by the philosophy of the day that claimed physical existence was inferior.  The body was a bad thing and Christians should deny their bodily existence. 

 

Paul uses Jesus’ resurrection to reaffirm the Christian hope of the resurrection of the body and bodily existence.  He will go on to argue at the end of this chapter that to proclaim the resurrection of Christ is to declare the meaningfulness of embodied life—on both sides of the grave.

 

I think we have just the opposite problem as 21st century Christians.  Now, don’t get me wrong, we still have a lot of work to do around affirming our bodily existence.  But as far as the resurrection goes, I think we are probably more willing than the Corinthians to believe in a bodily resurrection.  The Corinthians were more willing to live in their present moment with the resurrection, but were skeptical about how it would all end.  We cling to how we think it will all end at the expense of understanding how resurrection affects us now.

 

How did we come to limit the resurrection to the promise of an afterlife?  Some folks call it ‘in the sweet by and by’ theology.  When we all get to heaven we will understand it better by and by.  We’ve got eternity settled, so why bother with now?

 

For us resurrection means immortality.  But look at the biblical witness.  When Jesus appears to his disciples after the resurrection they don’t walk away saying to themselves, “Wow, now we have eternal life.”  No, they said things like, “Were not our hearts burning within us?” 

 

When Jesus appeared to them in a locked upper room, he didn’t say, “I give you the promise of life after death.”  He breathed his resurrection spirit upon them.  He set something free in them and let them loose on the world. 

 

The disciples didn’t walk away from Jesus’ resurrection and into the book of Acts preaching immortality.  They practiced resurrection!

 

Well, what does it mean for us to practice resurrection?  American poet Wendell Berry says, everyday do something that does not compute by the world’s standards.  “Love the Lord. Love the world. Work for nothing. Take all that you have and be poor. Love someone who does not deserve it…. Expect the end of the world. Laugh.  Be joyful though you have considered all the facts.”

 

Guatemalan poet Julia Esquivel says we practice resurrection by keeping a vigil of hope in the face of violence and injustice.  “It is something that doesn’t let us sleep, that doesn’t let us rest, that won’t stop pounding deep inside….it is the earthquake soon to come that will shake the world and put everything into place.”  She invites, “Join us in this vigil and you will know what it is to dream!  Then you will know how marvelous it is to be threatened with resurrection.”

 

Maybe the way we practice resurrection is to go through our earthly existence always asking the question, “What does the risen Christ want to set free in me?”

 

Maybe there are parts of our lives that look and feel like cemeteries.  Owls and Oak trees and Jesus tell us that in the cemetery times of our lives, new life can emerge and thrive.  The mystery of the gospel and the resurrection is that there is vitality among the tombstones.  Sometimes that is hard to see, especially when the stone markers we face are so lifeless and large and unmovable.  It’s difficult to find newness and promise and hope when we are confronted by the grim granite headstone of a painful divorce, the loss of a job, a diagnosis of cancer, the death of a loved one, or the betrayal of a friend.

 

Practicing resurrection means looking for the rare and glorious life that is there among those tombstones.

 

Episcopal lay woman, Nora Gallagher, has written a wonderful book about practicing resurrection.  She tells the story of the way she found new life through her brother’s death from cancer.  Like the Owl, it is birds that help her see new life in the midst of death.  She writes:

 

“Since Kit’s death, I have been visited—there is no other word for it—by birds.  Driving north on Highway 101, a red-tailed hawk flies low over the hood of my car, so close I can see the black bead of his eye.  Sitting in a garden of a retreat house near Malibu, the wide Pacific Ocean spread before me, a hummingbird zips to within a foot of my face.  The day of Kit’s death, I found myself, without knowing how I got there, standing in the midst of a bird refuge near his house….

 

When I got there, the light was turning to evening.  I drove out to one of the dikes, and then pulled over and parked.  None of the fancy birds were left:  the sandhill cranes were gone as well as the snow gees.  But there were red-winged blackbirds, Canada geese, and ducks, making their soft sounds.  The light was falling evenly on the bull rushes, the yellow millet, and the water.  A raven was dive-bombing each pond and the little birds rose and flocked before him and then settled back.  Very suddenly, for the first time in months, I felt comforted.  Here was life—birds, rushes, and water.

 

I was looking out at the bull rushes when I saw something else.  I saw, or understood, that Kit was there.  His singular, unique life.  He was there somehow, burning in the rushes, in the light and in the birds.  It was as if his life was exploding into them, and was about to become them, and I had been given the miraculous luck to catch him just as he dove in.  He was traveling at a great speed, it seemed to me, into the place where all things are alive.  I reached toward him, hardly able to believe it, wanting to hold on to him and to the moment, sheltering my hope in doubt.  I thought, He is alive.”

 

In the years ahead that experience sustained her through a difficult time in her marriage and a struggle with her job.  When she visits the bird refuge three years later she remembers that feeling of her brother being alive and she says, “Now I think, So am I.  This, as it turns out, is my resurrection story.”

 

What will be your resurrection story?