Rik's Sermons: April 2020

Sunday, April 26, 2020

Jesus Walks with us on our Road of Lament.

Sermon for Third Sunday of Easter

April 26, 2020

Now on that same day two of Jesus' disciples were going to a village called Emmaus, about seven miles from Jerusalem, and talking with each other about all these things that had happened. While they were talking and discussing, Jesus himself came near and went with them, but their eyes were kept from recognizing him. And he said to them, “What are you discussing with each other while you walk along?” They stood still, looking sad. Then one of them, whose name was Cleopas, answered him, “Are you the only stranger in Jerusalem who does not know the things that have taken place there in these days?” He asked them, “What things?” They replied, “The things about Jesus of Nazareth, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, and how our chief priests and leaders handed him over to be condemned to death and crucified him. But we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel. Yes, and besides all this, it is now the third day since these things took place. Moreover, some women of our group astounded us. They were at the tomb early this morning, and when they did not find his body there, they came back and told us that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who said that he was alive. Some of those who were with us went to the tomb and found it just as the women had said; but they did not see him.” Then he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are, and how slow of heart to believe all that the prophets have declared! Was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them the things about himself in all the scriptures.

As they came near the village to which they were going, he walked ahead as if he were going on. But they urged him strongly, saying, “Stay with us, because it is almost evening and the day is now nearly over.” So he went in to stay with them. When he was at the table with them, he took bread, blessed and broke it, and gave it to them. Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight. They said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he was talking to us on the road, while he was opening the scriptures to us?” That same hour they got up and returned to Jerusalem; and they found the eleven and their companions gathered together. They were saying, “The Lord has risen indeed, and he has appeared to Simon!” Then they told what had happened on the road, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!

I have to tell you a secret. The gospel this morning is one of my absolute favorite bible readings (I’m probably not supposed to have favorites but…) – The two post resurrection readings that I love the most are this story – the journey of Cleopas and his friend to Emmaus accompanied by Jesus. The other one is what I love to call the barbecue of the beach. Some people call it the story of Peter’s Primacy but I like the barbecue on the beach. You know the one where the disciples have gone fishing only to come back to shore and find the resurrected Jesus preparing a breakfast for them over a camp fire. I also like the story of Thomas because he is so like me in wanting to see proof – at least the science geek part of me. But I love these stories. The revealing of Jesus to his disciples in ways that we can literally taste.

In both stories, this one and the barbecue of the beach, the disciples are downtrodden. They are sure that this whole new movement that they were part of has come to an end. It seems that they are ready to call it quits. To go back to doing whatever they did before they followed this itinerate Rabbi. Heading back to Emmaus, or in the other case going fishing.

Cleopas – and his companion, …the fact that Luke does not name the companion drives me crazy by the way. But is this case not knowing the identity might be a way to enter into the story. Perhaps we can imagine that we are the other disciple. We could read the Story that Cleopas and Rik, or Cleopas and Lynell, or Anne or any one of us are on that road to Emmaus. We can imagine being that other disciple because we have been, or are, on that road.

That Road filled with despair over the events that have taken place. Only wanting to talk through it and try to make sense of it. With the required physical distancing many people are walking a road of despair.

I have a long time friend – one I have known since kindergarten – who is a nurse in New York City. She usually works in the pediatric Oncology Ward at Sloan Kettering in New York – as well as being an on-call Nurse Supervisor at a small Long Island hospital. She has told me that because no one is allowed into visit patients that the nurses and some of the doctors have been the only ones around the dying. They have been using facetime on their personal phones so that families can say goodbye. Some of the nurses and doctors have even been offering the prayers of last rites for the dying.

My experience has not been that extreme. I am still able to see my dad because I am logged at his care facility as an essential caregiver. But it was hard when we was recently taken to the ER and ultimately admitted not to have anyone there. We were lucky – he was not hospitalized due to the COVID-19 virus but due to heart issues and now has a pacemaker and is doing well. But I still miss our family gatherings – and it is looking more and more like we may have to postpone my sister’s wedding.

There was another poignant moment this week when a Facebook memory from five years ago popped up. It was a picture of me holding one of my former employee’s very young baby. This employee’s wife recently gave birth to a new baby and they told me that they would love to have a picture of me with their new baby to match the one with their now five year old. But it will have to wait. Wait until it is safe for us to gather once again. Safe for me to get my baby fix.

In hard times we can take comfort in returning to things that we love to do. I have many friends who have been baking all kinds of breads and treats. And then posting pictures on Facebook – which is not helpful when I am trying to continue of a weight loss program! We also find it helpful to be in community with like-minded people. Many of us need to talk out the difficulties.

That is what is happening on the Road to Emmaus. Cleopas and his companion are trying to make sense of Good Friday as they walk. And they find themselves with a third companion. A companion who asks the open ended question. A question that lets them empty their concerns. And in response Jesus gently reminds them of all that he had taught them. Jesus gently reminds them of all that they had learned from the Prophets. He opens their hearts to the truth. And yet they still do not recognize that it is Jesus. Their grief is too great.

Matt Skinner, a preacher I follow said, “I’m so glad that Jesus doesn’t reveal himself to Cleopas and his companion right away but waits. Why does he wait? Jesus is neither testing, scolding, nor humiliating the shell-shocked couple. He is, literally, journeying with them. There he is, present, as they narrate their disappointment and confusion. He does not cut them off. He knows that explanations will not cure their foolishness and slowness to believe.

The time will come to redirect his friends, but first he lets them proceed one heavy step after another.”^{^[1]}

When they reach their destination that trickster Jesus makes as if he is continuing down the road. And as good Jews the two offer hospitality because it is getting dark. They are thankful that this stranger has listened to them and allowed them to see their hurting hearts and to provide some healing. And as they sit down to dine Jesus did something very familiar – one of the last things he had done with his disciples. He broke bread. And in that instance their eye were opened and they recognized that the God of Love had been walking along with them.

Sometimes it is hard to see that the God of Love is with us. When we are in the midst of despair it can be hard. During this time of physical distancing it can be hard to hear God. Hard to see Jesus walking the road with us. We are social creatures. We worship together, we dine together, we make sense of the world together. And now this worldwide Pandemic has physically isolated many of us. As a worshipping community we desire to leave lent behind us and to gather and shout our alleluias. We desire to gather together and break the break and drink from the cup.

It is strange preaching with three other people in the church and a green light of a web camera. It is hard not to see the reactions of all of you as I preach. IT is hard not to be able to give out bag lunches to our homeless neighbors. It is hard not to sit down and provide food for the hungry after our Wednesday and Sunday services.

What comforts me is seeing that God is indeed walking with us through this difficult time. I see it in the number of people that we are able to reach on a Sunday through the imperfect live streaming of services – something we are working at getting better. I see it in the acts of kindness that people are doing for each other. I see it in the miracle of technology that allows us to virtually gather for coffee hour, to see each others faces. I see it in being able to continue to take yoga classes – don’t worry we are not breaking the rules. Yoga is not in person but also in a zoom community.

This Easter is not like any other that I have experienced. This Easter we find ourselves on a Road to Emmaus – we see empty churches, empty restaurants, and empty freeways. We may even have gotten to the point where we don’t want to hear another press briefing or read anymore news until we are free of this pandemic. We are isolated in ways that many of us have never experienced. Like Cloepas and his companion we are on a journey of lament.

Matt Skinner reminded me that “Lament takes time. And sometimes lament is the journey that leads us [...] to recognition and new life.

That new life walks alongside us, patiently, whether we know it or not.”

The good news is that we will gather together again. The good news is that the God of Love is patiently walking this journey alongside us – even if we don’t realize it. God’s incarnation means that we can be sure that God knows the grief of walking alone. God knows the tomb that isolation can feel like. The God of Love will accompany us on this journey and be there to warm our hearts and open our eyes when we least expect it.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen.

^{^[1]} https://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=5428 accessed April 25, 2020

Sunday, April 5, 2020

My Song is Love Unknown

Sermon for Palm Sunday 2020

The Liturgy of the Palms

Matthew 21:1-11

Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29

The Liturgy of the Word

Today marks the entrance into the week we call Holy. We started today with the remarkable entry of Jesus into Jerusalem on a colt. Jesus enters as a king – but with a twist – instead of riding in on a war horse with his army he comes in on a colt – or other versions say a donkey. He comes in on a creature that is not fit for a worldly king and instead of an army he is accompanied by a rag tag group of disciples. Disciples who were fisherfolk, tax collectors, those who were formally so sick they had to be shunned, and women. As he enters the crowds gather and cover his path with their cloaks and with branches, and shout “Hosanna to the Son of David.” A line filled with foreshadowing comes near the end of our reading. It says that when Jesus entered into Jerusalem that they whole city was in turmoil. A turmoil that will ultimately lead to his death.

As we celebrate our yearly remembrance of Jesus’ triumphal entry our world is not normal. Because of the stay at home orders we did not gather in person in the garden. We did not have the blessing of the palms and the procession into the church. We are missing one of those days that we let people outside see us as we worship God. For the past several years starting our worship outside on Palm Sunday has been a wonderful bookend to starting Lent with Ashes to Go. To be outside and let the world that passes by this corner know that the God of Love is here.

This year it is very quiet on the corner of 15^th & J. Few cars and few pedestrians. At church there are just four people spread out to maximize physical distancing. Today is different. Our routines are disrupted. The way we do church is disrupted. The way we shop is disrupted. We are staying at home so that people will live. We are physically distancing when we walk or go to the grocery store to keep ourselves and others from getting sick.

Nonetheless we are celebrating Palm Sunday. If today is like the last several weeks our livestream of the service will reach far more people than our normal Sunday. As of this writing we reached 369 people last week, and the week before 600 people. In this time of disruption we are still being the church – perhaps we are being the church better now that we have for years. We are no longer on auto-pilot but we are having to think about and reinvent how we worship in community. We are being invited to create a space in each of our homes that we can use to focus our prayers during this Holy Season.

Our Jewish sisters and brothers are also facing Passover, which starts this Wednesday, without their communal Seder dinners. But Passover will still be celebrated. Just as we will remember Israels deliverance at the Great Vigil they will still remember the exodus and Israel’s deliverance from slavery in Egypt. In her Shabbat d’rash Rabbi Mona Alfi at Congregation B’nai Israel reminded her congregation that in their remembrance they will still read about the plagues that afflicted Pharaoh and Egypt. In her Shabbat reflection this week on the upcoming Passover she said “At Passover we are reminded that to avoid the 10th and final plague – the death of the first born, we were commanded to stay inside, and to mark our doorposts with the blood of the paschal lamb, so that the Angel of Death will know to pass-over our houses.

Once again, we are commanded to stay in our homes so as to avoid the Angel of Death. But it is important for us to remember that while now is the time for physical distancing – we must not succumb to social or emotional distancing. We must continue to reach out to each other, not in person, but on the phone and the internet, to offer comfort, hope and help when needed, to those who need us. So that the plague of loneliness and depression does not strike us down as well.” A good reminder for all of us.

After the liturgy of the palms our Sunday switches from being Palm Sunday to being Passion Sunday. We just read the shorter version of the Passion according to Matthew. We read the shorter version because we are few to share in the reading. We read the shorter version because it felt right to do so this year. This was not the year for a passion play. It was is a year to get to the essence. I invite you today to read the longer version as part of your personal reflection time. It starts on the 15^th verse of the 26^th chapter of Matthew and goes until the end of the 27^th Chapter. A lot was left out of the shorter reading.

But don’t worry! This coming week we will still have time to remember the events that we left out of todays reading. On Maundy Thursday we will gather together to remember the institution of communion, The Lords Supper at the Last Supper, we will gather on Good Friday and recall the betrayal of one of the disciples and the arrest in the Garden. This week that we call Holy provides us good time to reflect and recall the final events of Jesus time as fully human on this fragile earth.

But today we are going to the essence of the passion. The trial and crucifixion. We heard that when Jesus breathed his last the curtain in the temple was torn in two, the earth shoot, and the rocks where spilt in two.

Our time of physical distancing and being at home gives us a unique opportunity to set time aside to remember. To find ways to be the church that we are called to be. To create that space in our lives for God to call to us in our time of need. To hear God calling us to be apart for a season so that we can celebrate once this pandemic is under control.

We heard in our passion reading that the tombs were opened just as surely as our time of physical distancing will end. Easter and the Empty tomb will be celebrated this year – as it is every year. It will be different this year. But we will still remember the love that refuses to die – the love that could not be killed on the cross. The love that is still calling our names and reminding us that God calls us to worship – not in our building but to worship differently.

Rabbi Mona Alfi, in her d’rash reminded her congregation that ”Passover reminds us that suffering is part of life. But so is celebrating. We tell the story of Passover in good years to remind us to have compassion for those who suffer all around us, from modern day plagues and because of the hard hearts of modern day pharaohs.

And we tell the story of Passover in our difficult years to remind us that redemption is always possible, and that there is always something to celebrate. On our tables, the food we eat reminds us that the bitter and the sweet are of often intermingled, and the stories we tell remind us that just as our ancestors suffered and prevailed, so will we.” And we will prevail in our celebrations.

On Ash Wednesday we were reminded by the prophet Isaiah that what God desires a worship that is not in a building but one that takes care of those in need. God, through the Prophet Isaiah said:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,

to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?

Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;

when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

This Easter we will celebrate – we will celebrate in community but in a different way – with livestreaming. And we will remember our call to continue with the worship that God desires. To continue to be messengers of the Love that refuses to die.

Today we will end our worship with part of my favorite hymn in our hymnal. My Song is Love Unknown. It starts:

My song is love unknown,
My Savior's love to me,
Love to the loveless shown
That they might lovely be.
O who am I,
That for my sake
My Lord should take frail flesh, and die?

On this week that we call Holy I invite you to remember the Love that will not lie. The Love that continually calls us. I invite you to find new ways to make this week Holy. To gather with us as we live stream the services. To find time for quiet reflection – to reflect on the greatest gift given to us, and is continually offered to us – the Love of God.

Amen.

An invitation to see our world differently

Sermon for the fifth Sunday in Lent

March 29, 2020

Now a certain man was ill, Lazarus of Bethany, the village of Mary and her sister Martha. Mary was the one who anointed the Lord with perfume and wiped his feet with her hair; her brother Lazarus was ill. So the sisters sent a message to Jesus, “Lord, he whom you love is ill.” But when Jesus heard it, he said, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” Accordingly, though Jesus loved Martha and her sister and Lazarus, after having heard that Lazarus was ill, he stayed two days longer in the place where he was.

Then after this he said to the disciples, “Let us go to Judea again.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just now trying to stone you, and are you going there again?” Jesus answered, “Are there not twelve hours of daylight? Those who walk during the day do not stumble, because they see the light of this world. But those who walk at night stumble, because the light is not in them.” After saying this, he told them, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I am going there to awaken him.” The disciples said to him, “Lord, if he has fallen asleep, he will be all right.” Jesus, however, had been speaking about his death, but they thought that he was referring merely to sleep. Then Jesus told them plainly, “Lazarus is dead. For your sake I am glad I was not there, so that you may believe. But let us go to him.” Thomas, who was called the Twin, said to his fellow disciples, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.”

When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, some two miles away, and many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to console them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went and met him, while Mary stayed at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that God will give you whatever you ask of him.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise again.” Martha said to him, “I know that he will rise again in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus said to her, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world.”

When she had said this, she went back and called her sister Mary, and told her privately, “The Teacher is here and is calling for you.” And when she heard it, she got up quickly and went to him. Now Jesus had not yet come to the village, but was still at the place where Martha had met him. The Jews who were with her in the house, consoling her, saw Mary get up quickly and go out. They followed her because they thought that she was going to the tomb to weep there. When Mary came where Jesus was and saw him, she knelt at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who came with her also weeping, he was greatly disturbed in spirit and deeply moved. He said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Lord, come and see.” Jesus began to weep. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him!” But some of them said, “Could not he who opened the eyes of the blind man have kept this man from dying?”

Then Jesus, again greatly disturbed, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone was lying against it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the sister of the dead man, said to him, “Lord, already there is a stench because he has been dead four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believed, you would see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus looked upward and said, “Father, I thank you for having heard me. I knew that you always hear me, but I have said this for the sake of the crowd standing here, so that they may believe that you sent me.” When he had said this, he cried with a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, “Unbind him, and let him go.”

Many of the Jews therefore, who had come with Mary and had seen what Jesus did, believed in him.

This week in particular both the reading from Ezekiel and the Gospel from John resonated with me. The Prophet Ezekiel is in the valley of dry bones. It can seem, during this time of physical distancing and self-quarantine that we are looking out over a valley of dry bones. Those of us who love our Sunday worship in community can find this new form of worship – via live stream online – to be a valley of dry bones. When I have gone out of the house to pick up medication for my father, or to purchase food, the new measures to keep us apart from each other are jarring. At CVS I found tables to keep me away from the pharmacist who was giving a consultation on a new medication for my father. At the farmers market yesterday there were separations between the booths and instead of being able to pick out produce we had to stand outside and point.

For most of us our daily routines have been disrupted. We can no longer go to the gym, or yoga, or even to church. If we are not careful we can look out and see nothing but dry bones. We can find it difficult to see God in the absence of physical interactions. Even my introvert friends are commenting on social media about missing certain gatherings! A friend just announced the birth of a grandchild – a happy occasion that was tinged with some sadness that it will be awhile before she is able to hold the new baby.

The story of the raising of Lazarus is one that is both jarring and comforting. It is jarring because we expect Jesus, we expect God, to rush to the sick-bed of his friend and to provide healing just as Jesus did to the blind man in our Gospel reading last week. It can be jarring to hear Jesus say, from a distance, “This illness does not lead to death; rather it is for God’s glory, so that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” And then instead of making haste to get back to the home of this friends Mary, Martha, and Lazarus he dawdles for another two days.

I also find comfort in this passage. Hearing that Jesus wept at the grave of his friend – even with the forethought that he would not be dead much longer, gives us permission to grieve. Permission to grieve over the death of friends. Permission to grieve over the loss of mobility. Permission to grieve over the cancellation of visits and dinners with friends, to grieve over the cancellation of long planned vacations. Permission to grieve over this pandemic that is sweeping the world.

Both the story of the Valley of Dray Bones and the Raising of Lazarus point to a reality that is not one that we can always see with our eyes. Both of these readings call us to see differently. To see as God sees. Instead of seeing a pile of dry bones in our self-isolation we are asked to see how God will put sinews on our spirituality. We are called by God to imagine that the dry bones of Israel, that the dry bones of our fractured routines, will indeed come back together. That, in time God will breathe new life into a world that seems to have fallen apart.

When God asks Ezekiel if these bones can reanimate his reply is “O Lord God, you know”. And then God shows him. Shows him that the bones will come together, shows him that the sinews will once again hold the bones together, that the flesh will come on, that there will be breath again. Ezekiel sees the house of Israel as lost. As a pile of dry bones but God sees differently. God sees the possibility that what we see as a pile of bones will come together again.

Even in this time of physical distancing I see the dry bones coming together, I see the flesh and breath being breathed in our houses. On social media people are reaching out and checking on each other. I have had calls from friends and I have called and texted friends to see how that are coping and if they needed anything. The isolation is causing people to become reacquainted with daily routines that are healthy. One friend commented that they are now doing meal prep and meal planning in advance – a way that can lead to a more healthy eating pattern.

We are finding ways to connect with each other at a distance. The yoga studio that I go to has reopened – don’t worry it has reopened not for in person classes but for classes using zoom! Yesterday I took my second zoom yoga class and I am signed up for another one on Tuesday. I have been promising myself that I would use our yoga space for regular yoga session for over a year and now we are likely to do yoga three times a week.

After this service we will have a coffee hour using our new zoom account. We may not be able to gather around the table of abundance that so many of you prepare after our services but we will be able to gather and see and hear each other. We will be able to check in and reconnect. It is not the same but there is comfort in being able to visit and see each other – even if only on the screen of our computers of other smart devices.

The unfortunate things is we are also seeing a divide between those who have the technology to connect and those that do not. I invite you to reach out the old fashion way to your friends and family who are on the other side of the technology divide. To call and write notes to your friends. Let them know that even if you can’t physically join them at worship or for coffee that you are indeed thinking of them and holding them in your prayers.

Another positive thing that is happening is that we are redefining how we do church. We are being invited to put into action our theology that says you are the church – not this building, but you are the church. We are called to put our theology into practice that says worship happens all around us not just on a Sunday morning, not just at the weekday services inside these four walls.

Next week starts one of the most holy times of our church year. Next Sunday is Palm Sunday – the beginning of the week we call Holy. Following Palm Sunday we will encounter Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, culminating with the Great Vigil of Easter and Easter Sunday. And for all those services our churches will be empty – or in the case of St. Paul’s empty but for a few clergy and the gift of some music from Nancy and a soloist. We are able in this space to maintain physical distancing and to make sure that we use proper sanitizing.

There will be worship here but it will not be the same. You will be invited, as you are each year, to participate in this most holy of seasons – but this time via live stream and in your own homes. I have shared some resources on our Facebook page from the diocese on how we can prepare for worship in a different way. Bishop Megan has invited us to create a sacred space for prayer in our homes if we don’t already have one. It doesn’t have to be elaborate. A small corner with a cross or an icon will do. A small corner with a candle – either real of battery powered, that you can light to signify that it is a time of prayer. Perhaps gather around a few things that remind you of God’s presence in your life. Perhaps a picture of a child or parent or a picture of nature. In that space you just may hear God calling you to look at the valley of dry bones and see flesh.

When Jesus finally got to Lazarus graveside there was no expectation that Jesus would raise him form the dead. Instead Jesus gets a bit of a scolding from Mary that if he had been there Lazarus would not be in the tomb. When Jesus tells them to roll away the stone Martha – the practical one – worries that there will be stench if they do as Lazarus has been dead four days already. While they believed that Jesus could have prevented the death their grieve refused to believe the possibility that resurrection could happen. They could not see the way God sees. That death is not the end. That the love that is our God sees amazing possibilities. Jesus calls Lazarus out of his tomb – just as Jesus will get up out of his tomb on Easter.

On Easter our churches will mostly be empty – Jake Morrill, a Unitarian pastor in East Tennessee said,

“This Easter, in fact, the churches will be empty.

And the tomb will be empty.

And the joy and freedom of Love will be unleashed the world over, in the hearts of all those willing to make hard personal choices, to sacrifice and even suffer if it would do something that could help just one neighbor.

This Easter, continuing to give ourselves to each other, staying home even when it’s not easy (or, for first responders or healthcare workers, showing up for each other even when it’s not easy), far-flung members of the Body will celebrate and demonstrate the triumph of selfless, all-conquering love.”[1]

The lessons this Sunday invite us to see our world differently. To see the possibility that a valley full of empty bones brings. To find ways to put sinews, flesh and breath on those things that we have lost during this pandemic. To find new ways to be the church.

This week listen – listen for God calling you out of whatever tomb you may find yourself in. Listen. God is calling. God is reminding us that even – and perhaps especially – when our world is turned upside down that God’s love is calling to us. God’s love is reminding us that nothing – not even death – will separate us from that love. God is calling us to be the Church. God is calling us to spread God’s love into a world that sees devastation. God is calling us to be separate for a while so that we can rejoice when we gather together once again. God is calling us to find new ways to bring the good news of God’s love to our hurting world.

Amen.

[1] http://thesaltcollective.org/love-will-empty-our-churches-this-easter/ accessed March 28, 2020