A SERMON FROM ST. JAMES EPISCOPAL CHURCH,
Greenville, South Carolina
Easter Vigil – 30 March 2002
Great Vigil of Easter 2002In this third and final act, we gathered in darkness, struck a flint and lit the new fire, the Light of Christ. We listened once again to the story of God's saving acts throughout Israel's history up to the coming of Jesus. For three nights now we have all had a part in the re-presentation of the Christian drama, a work of the people that churches throughout Greenville, all over South Carolina, across the nation and around world have also been re-presenting. It's a two thousand year old re-retelling that never gets old or stagnant because it only comes once a year, and it always catches us right where we are then in our lives, reminding us of what truly matters, and of what has ultimate value. In 1984, I became an Episcopalian, and I'm here to tell you doing so saved my life: becoming an Episcopalian saved my life, because this drama, this ritual way of worship, this type expressing that which often defies expression breathed God's life and God's love anew into my soul and spirit, at a time when I really needed it. Since 1984 I have never missed Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, or the Great Vigil of Easter. I never tire of any aspect of it, for somehow, in some way, something new always strikes my mind and heart. Only after I became an Episcopalian did I discover the pure joy of celebrating Easter after participating in the services of Holy Week- the kind of joy I feel this evening with you. Actually, it doesn't surprise me that I became an Episcopalian. In his book We Are Still Married, Garrison Keillor explains the reason beautifully:
(That last bit can be sung to the tune, "Ain't Misbehavin" by Fats Waller.) All this is to say that it's true, the way we worship captured me, and the way we strive to love God and each other continues to engage me. That's what baptism and Eucharist do, they equip us for the hard and sometimes difficult work of loving God and loving our neighbor. One can easily feel the joy of Easter tonight, and tomorrow if you choose to come again.(Remember, you do not HAVE TO, if you've come tonight; and if you go tomorrow, all I can say is beware of the leaven of the Pharisees, who like to be seen in places and feel holy). The joy of Easter Day can, indeed, carry us for a while, but what then? What happens to the high liturgical dramaand the attention it demanded of us? Actually, that doesn't go away, but remains very near to us. For the true work of the people occurs week by week in the liturgy on any given Sunday.The way we keep this joyful Eastertide alive is to recognize that Easter itself lasts fifty great days, and that every Sunday throughout the year is a little Easter, a celebration of a feast of our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore, each of us has a role to play in the weekly drama of the Church's liturgical year. And the hard and sometimes difficult work of loving God and loving our neighbor also remains with us week by week throughout the year.Baptism and Eucharist equip us to do this work. One can easily see in the Word broken open and reflected upon, and in bread and wine blessed and shared, the refreshment available in the Eucharist week by week, but what of baptism? That's where liturgical worship comes in, the role of ritual and "r-i-t-e," rite. It's all in the flick of the wrist, if you will. You may not believe this, but back in the early 1980's I remember the tremendous guilt I felt in just contemplating making the sign of the cross. People in my fundamentalist church didn't do that kind of thing; Roman Catholics did that stuff, and we all knew where they were going. However, a member of St. Anne's Episcopal Church, back home in Indiana, gave me a tremendous gift. He was my one time ninth grade P.E. teacher, and he invited me to my first Holy Week service in 1982. Now, Coach knew that I wasn't an Episcopalian, but he said to me something like this: "You know, we do a lot of standing and kneeling in the Episcopal Church, and we make some gestures. It's good discipline that we do out of love for Christ; you do love Christ don't you?" Well, he had me there. I did love Christ. And so I went. And I learned to make the sign of the cross out of love for Christ. Only later did I learn that the sign of the cross is to remind us of our baptism. That's why we have holy water in our font at the entrance of the nave on all Sundays that we don't have a baptism.So we can touch it with our fingers and by crossing ourselves instantly remember whose we are, because we are baptized. It isn't superstition; it's reinforcement. Habitual actions shape our thinking and being. Parents, teach your children to make the sign of the cross. Tell them it's a practice that we do out of love for Christ. Teach them that it reminds them of who they belong to and why. Make the sign yourself, slowly and deliberately, from your forehead to your chest, to your left shoulder then your right shoulder. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. (It is not necessary to come back to the middle of your chest.) In God's name, and by this sign, we have been baptized into the church. When we make it, we remind ourselves of that baptism, that relationship, which God considers indissoluble. It is tactile; we touch ourselves in God's name. It is as if God is writing large on our bodies,"You belong to me." Dear friends in Christ, the demands of the baptismal covenant can take a lifetime to live out. But thanks be to God, we have a risen Lord to see us through,and who is as close to us as a prayer, or in the Eucharist,or even in the flick of a wrist. May the joy of this Easter night sustain you for the great fifty days of Eastertide and for the rest of your life. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
The Rev'd Timothy M. Dombek Copyright © 2002 Timothy M. Dombek All Rights Reserved.
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