See ya Later

Emmanuel Episcopal Church, Greenwood, Virginia
Easter
April 4, 2021
 
Bill was a beloved priest in one of my former congregations died in his sleep at a ripe old age.  Being a priest of the Church who had officiated at who knows how many funerals, he left very strict instructions for his own service of Resurrection.  He said that his life is to be celebrated “at whatever church I am a member of at the time of my death… and while such an occasion warrants the attendance of any number of bishops and priestly colleagues, the local priest is fine, wherever. A five-minute homily is enough at any funeral – especially mine.”  We were to sing Easter hymns only, we were to read the particularly uplifting lessons he chose, and the officiant, me, was to read a letter he wrote to his family and friends.  Thus, that guy got to preach at his own funeral.  Take that death.
 
The letter was typed on an old-school type writer with r’s that were a half a line too high.  He addressed his wife of sixty plus years with loving praise for enduring life with him and life with him in the Church.  He addressed his sons, enumerating the unique things he loved about them.  And he addressed the congregation of friends and extended family with gratitude for their companionship.  Essentially, he said, that we were to rejoice as he now knew all about the depths of the great mysteries of God which he had spent his life trying to articulate, embrace, and comprehend.  The letter was a testament of humor and humility and life.
 
As I read it for the first time, weeping, I wondered how he could ever end with a proper salutation.  He had already told of his love.  He had already encouraged all of us in the faith.  And there at the top of the second page, that is right, he gave thanks for his life and more than 50 years as a priest, author, educator, theologian, and seminary dean, in one page.  Even at the end, he knew that a long sermon was never a good one.  So how did he sign off?  Simply this: “See ya later, Bill”
 
The Easter Word we hear from Mark’s gospel this morning is the earliest of the written texts.  It is the simplest and the most to the point.  It is early morning, the first day of the week, the men disciples are hiding out, but three loving women who come to anoint Jesus body with scented balm, caring for their friend even in death.  The stone, as heavy as their grief, is rolled back.  An angelic messenger greets them Jesus is not there, rather he is alive and gone on to Galilee, back where the journey began.  He tells them: “Go home, and you will see Jesus.”
 
It is important to note that the men folk are nowhere to be found.  At that moment, they are more concerned with hiding out than burying their dead.  The women are the feelers here.  When they show up for a goodbye ritual, the whole thing is turned upside down.  It may take a while for them to process, but this is not a ‘goodbye moment,’ this is a ‘we will always be together moment.’ 
 
Unlike many accounts, this earliest telling ends right there.  No explanation.  No rationalization.  Drop the mic.  This leaves us knowing is that there has to be a sequel.  And we will the ones to write that one in our lives.  Mark’s last word tells us to change the scene.  No longer will God’s love story told from the capitals of corruption, from the places of death dealing, and hope squashing subjugation.  The rest of the story happens where we really live, and move and have our being.  The rest of the story happens where we love on each other, where we gather for encouragement, and where work thorough our struggles together.  God lives and moves and has being in the circles of love, no more in the circular firing squad hate, blame, or despairing apathy.
 
Easter is not the end of a long slog through sin and pain and death.  It is our beginning as full and eternal partners with God.
 
The poet T.S. Eliot puts this Eternal Easter message this way:
 
What we call the beginning is often the end
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
 
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
 
(The Four Quartets, Little Gidding)
 
One of my favorite theologians put the Eternal Easter message, more succinctly, in this way:
 
“See ya later.”  Amen