Tag Archives: God

Sabbatical Journey…on Butterflies and Beauty

19 Monday Jun 2023

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Photo credit: https://www.history.com/topics/black-history/central-high-school-integration

Our second day of travels landed us in Little Rock, Arkansas.  We had mostly planned to get here and head straight to the hotel, but traffic was forgiving, and gave us a little extra time.  So, we hopped over to the Little Rock Central High School National Park Site.  As a refresher, in 1957, Central High became the epicenter of confrontation and the catalyst for change in enforcing the decision of Brown v. Board to integrate schools.  Three years after the Supreme Court decision, the “Little Rock Nine,” were denied entrance to the school, and President Dwight D. Eisenhour had to federalize the Arkansas National Guard to safely enable the Little Rock Nine to successfully attend school. 

As I was looking at the photos at the National Park, I noticed a butterfly flitted past me and landed right next to a picture of those National Guardsmen protecting those students.  I was reminded of how even in the darkest times, one can find beauty.  I do not know the stories of those men who protected those students.  Maybe they did it because they were obligated to help by order of the President.  Maybe they did it because they felt a desire to right an injustice.  Maybe they had feelings that changed before, during, and after the event.  What I do know is those from Little Rock during that time were transformed in that event.  And like that butterfly, their transformation flitted on throughout the country as we made our way toward justice – as we continue to make our way toward justice.

Commemorative Garden. Note butterfly in photo. (Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly)

In the Commemorative Garden at the site, there is an inscription about the school.  It reads that Central High School, “…has survived, indeed not just survived but succeeded beyond anyone’s belief, becoming once again Arkansas’ premier high school.”  The inscription goes on to say, “It has achieved this not by returning to its old form merely showing its pretty face, but by modeling the diversity and pluralism that caused the original storm of protest.”

Post-pandemic, and indeed, in the modern era of Church, I think many are hoping to simply return to our old form, merely showing the Church’s pretty face.  But the massive disruption of the pandemic has convinced me that this is our opportunity not to become simply familiar again, but to become something excellent because of our evolution into the goodness God created us to be.  I wonder what new goodness God has invited you into in this post-pandemic season?  Where are butterflies beckoning your attention to see beauty not in what once was, but what is now, and in what can be?  I can’t wait to hear how you are seeing butterflies in your journey!

Sabbatical Journey…Finding God on the Road

18 Sunday Jun 2023

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Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse with permission only)

One of our favorite road trip pastimes as a family is the “license plate game.”  We try to spot license plates from all fifty states while we drive.  We even have a little board that allows you to flip over a wooden replica of a plate when you see that state’s plate, helping you track which ones you are missing.  It’s a fun game for all ages that helps pass the time, and in feels mildly educational as parents.

Today we embarked on our family’s sabbatical road trip:  twenty-one states in twenty-one days.  Many of the sites have been on our bucket lists for years, and some of the sites we only learned about while planning the route.  We know this will be the trip of a lifetime, and we are thrilled to be able to do this together.  One of the themes of my sabbatical has been connection, and we suspect there will be lots of connection by the end of this journey.

As we commenced our journey today, the license plate game started immediately.  We had a bit of a slow start at the beginning, and I wondered if we were going to get stuck as we drove further away from the East Coast.  At some point, as kids and the other adult were snoozing, I saw one of the states I was particularly worried about missing, and I remember thinking, “Oh thank goodness for Delaware!!” 

My thought was rather silly and overly dramatic, but as I kept driving, I began to wonder what it might be like to not just treat the game as a calculated collection of inanimate objects, but instead to imagine the lives and worth of each human life in the cars.  How much more life-giving would it be to say to another driver, “I am so grateful for you today!  May your travels be a source of blessing!”  The image of 35 blessings instead of 35 wooden blocks on our game board made me realize how unfathomable God’s love is for all of God’s creatures.  Here I am competing in a game, when, if I use God’s eyes of grace, I might be seeing 35 blessings, 35 carloads of people made in God’s image, 35 possibilities for connection, or 35 invitations to move closer to God in prayer.

I look forward to finding new ways to see with God’s eyes of grace on the next leg of our trip.  I would love to hear how you found God’s invitation to blessing through others today!

On Being a Chameleon Traveler…

15 Thursday Jun 2023

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Photo credit: https://www.primerrily.com/post/frontporchparenting

I have been formed in two worlds of travel.  The first world of formation was in my childhood, when travel was mostly for the purpose of visiting family.  There were two primary experiences on those trips.  The first was what we called, “visiting,” where people gathered in living rooms or on porches and just talked and caught up for hours.  Kids weren’t really entertained – just expected to participate in the conversation.  The second activity was playing cards and table games – hours and hours of games. 

The second world of formation emerged when I married into a family with a very different expression of travel.  Travel for my newfound family was about seeing things, getting out and doing things, and trying new experiences.  We certainly talked as much as my family of origin, but usually en route to somewhere.  Activities were often planned months in advance, and schedules were part and parcel of travel.  Consequently, after almost twenty-two years of marriage, I have become a chameleon:  just as happy to sit and visit and play games as I am to get out and see the world.

Photo credit: https://www.cnbc.com/select/how-to-save-on-travel/

So, when I convinced four seminary friends to join me for a sabbatical getaway over a year ago, I did not think about the fact that the five of us had never traveled together.  Only in the weeks leading up to our trip did that realization hit me.  In which world of travel were these friends formed?  Did we need an itinerary?  Did I need to pack some games?  How in the world do you pack for a trip when you don’t know what kind of travelers you are traveling with?!?

When I planned my sabbatical, I did not realize how much my plans reflected my chameleon travel nature.  This past week with friends was certainly the “visiting” kind.  I didn’t see any of the local sites (except the amazing beach!).  But I heard stories untold over the last several years of pandemic, recalled inside jokes, played new games, and laughed – a lot!  Next week, I embark on the other world of travel in which I have been formed:  seeing parts of our country I have longed to see and experiencing new adventures.  Of course, we’ll have plenty of time in the car to “visit” – whether we want to or not!  Somehow, I am unintentionally getting the best of both worlds of travel.

One of my learnings from sabbatical is that my different modes of travel are teaching me about being open to the joys of God’s creation in whatever modes of storytelling God presents.  I suspect seeing new sights and the breadth of God’s creation out west will be just as lifegiving as sitting around a game table with longtime friends.  There is a sacred fullness to this time that is filling my tank for ministry.  My prayer is that you are able to see the variety of ways God is filling your tank too these days!

On Delight and Sabbatical…

06 Tuesday Jun 2023

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Photo credit: https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/why-you-need-help-schedule-sabbatical-asap-kadi-cole-rn-ms/

Toward the end of my second week of sabbatical, it dawned on me what a different space sabbatical creates from vacation.  The beginning is quite similar:  a flurry of activity, trying to tie up loose ends, ensuring all systems and coverage are in place, and maybe, clearing off your desk.  But at the end of the second week of sabbatical, I noticed a distinction from vacation.  Usually at the end of vacation, even a two-week vacation, tension in my body begins to return.  The wheels in my mind start to churn, even if I know they shouldn’t.  “Work mode” creeps into vacation mode and spoils any deep relaxation I have established.  I was delighted to realize that creep is not happening as I enter week three of sabbatical.

Part of my delight in this realization is how restorative these last two weeks have been.  It’s been such a joy to slow down and reconnect with God, with my family, and with friends.  When I was on retreat at the monastery, I turned off the notifications on my phone, and I was amazed at how much tension released from my body.  In times of quiet, I have been able to stop talking so much, and be more focused on listening:  to God, to my family, to those around me.  And in the differently paced time of sabbatical, I am finding so much love:  finding “space” to remember how powerfully life-giving the loving relationships are in my life.

I am not likely to have twelve weeks of sabbatical again for at least another seven years, which has left me wondering how to hold on to moments of sabbatical time in “real life.”  How might I find harmony between my natural full-speed self and my intentional sabbatical self?  It is my hope in the coming weeks to learn that harmonic practice.  I would love to hear what tricks you have developed for that harmony in your own life!

On Companions for the Journey…

31 Wednesday May 2023

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Mary as Prophet by Margaret Parker at Virginia Theological Seminary (photo by Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly; reuse with permission)

Today is the Feast Day of the Visitation – that lovely encounter between Elizabeth and Mary, the mother of Jesus, when they are both unusually pregnant.  You may recall Elizabeth is older, and had likely assumed she would never have children.  Her child would become John the Baptist.  And of course, Mary, officially unwed and a virgin, is now newly pregnant with the son of God.  When the two cousins meet at the Visitation, John leaps in Elizabeth’s womb, and we get the profession of faith that is so familiar to us in the rosary, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb”[i]  Just a few verses later, Mary’s response to Elizabeth is the text we call the Magnificat, or the Song of Mary[ii] – a text sung at Evensongs for centuries. 

As I heard this text retold at the monastery today, I was reminded of how important companions are in our spiritual journey.  I imagine Elizabeth’s pregnancy was full of anxiety – fear that she might lose the precious child in her high-risk pregnancy.  And I imagine Mary’s pregnancy was full of a totally different kind of anxiety – so many social mores to manage, Joseph to worry about, and, well, the whole God-bearing thing.  And yet, only in this meeting of two women do we get two of the richest texts in our tradition.  Sometimes we need earthly companions to help us digest the big stuff that God throws our way.

I wonder who your earthly companions are these days.  I wonder whether you have reached out to them recently with whatever stuff God has been throwing your way.  We are a people made for community and relationship.  We are not meant to walk the journey alone – even though we are perfectly capable of doing so.  But how much more joy, surprise, reassurance, and victory do we experience when we walk together?  May this Feast Day of the Visitation be your invitation to find someone to walk with in this crazy season God has given you.

[i] Luke 1.42

[ii] Luke 1.46-55

On Searching for Slightly Sideways…

30 Tuesday May 2023

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Mepkin Abbey 2023. Photo credit: Jennifer Andrews-Weckerly (reuse only with permission).

You might imagine as a priest that going to a monastery on retreat is like going to church on steroids.  And perhaps in some ways it is:  certainly, going to worship five times in a day for multiple days in a row is pretty churchy.  But spending time at a monastery at the root does something much more subtle and important.  Spending time at a monastery turns everything familiar slightly sideways.

When I’m here, I eat three meals a day just like anywhere else.  But here, I have no control over the menu, the food is straightforward, and you eat what is available.  No buffet of options, no taking orders, no preview of the menu.  You just show up and eat something simple, satisfying, and sufficient.

And let’s not forget that those meals are eaten in silence.  At home, I fight tooth and nail to get my family members to put down their technology (me included!), to talk for 15-20 minutes.  It’s often the only intentional time we get together as a family to find out what’s going on in our lives.  But when I’m at the monastery, despite the fact that I am sitting across from people from all walks of life –  other religious members, seekers, those needing spiritual nourishment – I cannot talk to them, ask them what they thought of the service we just attended, talk about their journey with God, or even see if they have tips about good places to be inspired on campus. 

Of course, there is worship.  As an Episcopalian, the Roman Catholic daily office and Eucharist of the Trappist monks is familiar – but not exactly the same.  I know how to follow along with chanting psalms and antiphons, I know what to expect with the Magnificat, and I know some of the words of the Eucharist.  But I stumble through various books, parts of the liturgies that the other Romans know by heart, and even which direction to face (despite the orientation materials!).  Everything is perfect – and slightly off from familiar.

And that is what this churchy person needs while on retreat.  I need things to be slightly “off” to shake up my spiritual routines.  When I am slightly uncomfortable in worship, I hear rhythms differently, I catch words more powerfully, and I am surprised by God’s presence more readily.  When I am eating unfamiliar food, the simple flavors awaken my senses more than an exotic meal – making me savor the gift of nourishment in ways I never do when I am rushing to the next thing.  When I am sitting in silence, all the words that regularly tumble out of my mouth must be put on a shelf:  instead, my ears become more attuned to both my neighbor and to God.  Prayer seeps into the meal in ways more powerful than daily grace. 

I wonder what ways you and I can create that “slightly sideways” experience at home.  In the hum of everyday life, perhaps there are ways to shake up the familiar.  Perhaps it means refusing to engage in stimulation while driving:  no music, podcasts, or quick phone calls.  Perhaps it means having a certain day of the week for a simple meal.  Or perhaps you have another way of breaking your routine – just briefly enough to turn down the noise of life and let in the noise of God.  I look forward to hearing what you try!

Sermon – Acts 1.6-14, E7, YA, May 21, 2023

30 Tuesday May 2023

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One of my favorite videos on YouTube is an experiment by the group called SoulPancake.  They asked six pairs of individuals, in various stages of relationship (from total strangers to a couple who has been married 55 years) to sit in two chairs facing one another, and without speaking, look into one another’s eyes for four minutes.  At first the couples are a bit uncomfortable – initially unsettled by the forced silence, but ultimately jarred by what they quickly realize is deep intimacy.  Slowly over the four minutes the couples settle in, their faces transforming from discomfort to curious to deep connection.  You can almost see the sparks of love emerging in their eyes, tension draining from their bodies, and invariably smiles of appreciation spreading across their mouths.[i] 

When Willie James Jennings writes about the ascension of Jesus, one his primary concerns is that in focusing on the heavens, where Jesus used to be, the disciples will forget to focus on one another, on the stranger in need of witness, and on the presence of God.  Jennings worries that the disciples are looking “into the heavens concerned by absence rather than looking forward to see presence.”[ii]  The text from the Acts of the Apostles tells us of the last earthly day of Jesus’ post-resurrection life.  Jesus gives the disciples a commission and is lifted up into the clouds and whisked away.  The text tells us the disciples do exactly what you might imagine – they stand there, staring at the heavens.  I imagine that standing and staring had several iterations:  there was likely the stunned awe of the moment; there may have been some not wanting to leave for fear of missing what might happen next; there may be some immediate second guessing about what this all means; there may be some Peter-esque desire to preserve the sacred location of the profound moment; there may be a sense deep grief, or conversely a sense of profound joy.  Whatever those disciples are doing, they are not at all doing they are supposed to do.  Hence the men in white robes asking their very basic question, “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”

You and I are about to engage in the profound and infrequent journey of sabbatical.  The temptations in this time are many.  For either of us, we could easily see this as twelve weeks of frozen time – where we will each gaze upon God, and then simply pick up where we left off in August.  For either of us, we could be prepared to happily engage in sabbatical activities, absorbed in our own mountaintop experiences, forgetting the journey of the other.  For either of us, we could be guided by fear, burying our talent like in the parable in Matthew – just hoping not to risk doing sabbatical the “wrong way” instead of investing our talents to see what return we gain. 

But there is danger in looking up in the heavens into absence as opposed to looking forward to presence.  Alan Hirsch tells us, “the biggest blockage to the next experience of God is often the last experience of God, because we get locked into it.”[iii]  [repeat]  What those men in white knew was that if the disciples stood there lost in themselves or even in the ascended Jesus, they would never get their next experience of God – they would get so locked into the mountaintop experience of Jesus’ ascension, that they would never make their way to the next experience of God – in their case the great gift of the Holy Spirit on Pentecost.

That is our invitation today.  As we stand on the precipice of sabbatical, maybe as we are still reveling in the memory of an outstanding parish-wide retreat this weekend, or wondering what sabbatical activities we want to try, or even feeling a bit of anxiety about what is next, a great whispering is happening nearby, “why are you standing looking up toward heaven?”  Our invitation instead is to resist letting our next experience of God be our last experience of God.  Our invitation is to gather in these next weeks in prayer and community, knowing that the Holy Spirit will do a new thing in all of us.  Our invitation is to walk down the mountain and into the valley of witnessing the gospel of Jesus, looking forward not only for the presence of God, but gazing deeply into the eyes of others.[iv]  This time of sabbatical is not a time to marked by absence, but instead is a time looking forward to see presence.  We can only see that presence if we pull our eyes from heaven and gaze into the sacred we find in one another.  The next experience of God promises to be greater still than our last experience of God.  I can’t wait to hear all about your next experience.  Amen.

[i] Georgia Koch, “How To Connect With Anyone,” SoulPancake, February 12, 2015, as found at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Xm-T3HCa618 on May 20, 2023.

[ii] Willie James Jennings, Acts:  Belief:  A Theological Commentary on the Bible (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2017), 19-20.

[iii]  Alan Hirsch and Rob Kelly, Metanoia: How God Radically Transforms People, Churches, and Organizations From the Inside Out (Cody, Wyoming:  100 Movements Publishing, 2023).

[iv] John S. McClure, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 525.

Sermon – John 14.1-14, E5, YA, May 7, 2023 (8:00 AM)

30 Tuesday May 2023

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The gospel text we hear from John today may be quite familiar.  Today’s text is a favorite for funerals.  I have lost count of the number of times I have heard the first six verses of chapter fourteen, and after countless funerals, I am convinced the first six verses would be the ones I want read at my own funeral.  What I love about this text, and what I suspect so many others love too, is layered.  I love Jesus’ description of the heavenly kingdom – a place of abundance, with many dwelling places.  I love that Jesus lovingly goes before us, and even promises to come back for us and guide us there.  I love the assurance that I already know the way, and I love Jesus’ words, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  And as if that were not enough, I love the very human response of Thomas – so stuck in his anxiety and fear that he cannot really hear Jesus.  His panicked words make me feel reassured in my own human messiness.

But what is funny about this text is that we never read the rest of the verses at funerals.  Because I have studied just the first six verses countless times, I was stunned this week by the following eight verses of our text.  After that entire interaction with Thomas, where clearly Thomas needed and received careful, loving guidance, Philip enters the scene – and does the exact same thing as Thomas.  Literally seconds after Jesus patiently explains how he will go and prepare a place for us, and he will guide them, and they will know the way because Jesus is the way, what does Philip do?  He basically says, “Great, if you could just prove yourself one more time, then I will definitely believe you.” 

Truth be told, the introduction of Philip makes me love this text even more.  You see, in this Eastertide season, as we continue to talk about what the resurrection means in our everyday life, we go back to this time before Jesus’ death when he broke the resurrection down, not once, but twice.  But the explanation we hear today – twice – really takes us all the way back to the beginning.  Remember John’s gospel does not start with warm, familiar birth stories.  John starts with the poetic, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”  John has told us from the beginning that Jesus was from the beginning and became flesh so that the followers of God might make God known.  And so, Jesus patiently (and occasionally a little impatiently) tells us over and over again that Jesus is there to help us know God and to bring us into resurrection life in the heavenly kingdom.  And if Jesus can be patient, and occasionally a little impatient, with Thomas and Philip, surely God can handle my own slowness to come to confidence in Christ.

But that is not the end of our invitation today – to recognize Jesus’ salvation and care for us.  This entire convoluted conversation with Thomas and Philip is to help them and us believe.  Now, do not confuse things, I do not mean belief as end in and of itself.  Karoline Lewis sheds light on what believing means, “…to believe in Jesus,” Lewis says, “is to witness in the world his presence so that others might have their own encounter by which then to believe in Jesus…Every sign, every encounter, every conversation has been with that sole purpose in mind, to make God known so that a moment of believing might happen.  In these works, the disciples are invited to participate.”  This witness becomes important because Jesus is returning to the Father, because discipleship is based on witnessing, because greater works will be made possible in our witnessing.[i] 

So as much as I love these very human interactions between Thomas, Philip, and Jesus, this text is not just meant to reassure me of my humanness and God’s grace with me despite that flawed humanness.  This text is meant to remind us of our commission as disciples.  Resurrection promise is not just comfort food for the journey.  Resurrection promise is fuel for the journey – a journey that is not just about us, but about who we bring along with us into resurrection life.  That is our invitation today.  As we journey in this Eastertide, Jesus reminds us once again that our Easter joy is not meant for us alone; our Easter joy is meant to be shared.  Thomas and Philip just remind us in our very humanness that we can be the faithful disciples Jesus needs.  Amen.

[i] Karoline M. Lewis, John:  Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries, (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2014), 189-190.

Sermon – Matthew 28.1-10, ED, YA, April 9, 2023

30 Tuesday May 2023

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I have a friend who does one of the most unconscionable things in life:  she flips to the end of every book and reads the ending first before going back to the beginning to start.  When she first told me about this habit, I was mortified.  How could you ruin the suspense, ignore the carefully crafted character development, and destroy the experience of imagination so callously?  For her, the answer is simple.  She needs to be assured that everything will turn out okay – the only way she can trust the journey the author will take her on is if she knows how the journey will end.  Now I have certainly read my fair share of books whose ending made me furious, so I get her logic.  But I have yet to be converted to her method, even by the bad endings.

Sometimes I think Easter Sunday is a bit like flipping to the end of the book.  We want to know Jesus rises from the dead, forgives our sins, and restores us to the promise of eternal life.  But that is not where the story starts today.  We are told that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary go to see the tomb.  These two women do not come to prepare the body with spices like in the other Gospel narratives.  They just come to see the stone-cold reminder of death and lay down all that has been.  In any death, there is a flurry of activity – the realization of pending death; the calling in of loved ones to say goodbye, or in the case of sudden death, the shocked gathering of grief; the funeral plans and details so complicated all your brain can do is make one decision at a time; and then the receiving of condolences and public marking of goodbye.  But in any death, eventually everyone leaves, and the mourning are left doing what Mary Magdalene and Mary do – going to sit at the tomb with the stark reality of all that has happened.[i]

In some ways, that is our posture as a church today.  If we participated in Holy Week at all, we walked the last meal of Jesus, his washing of feet, his agonizing prayers, his betrayal and denial, his torturous death, and the finality of his tomb.  Of if we participated in Lent, we walked through the depths of our sinfulness, doing the hard work of repentance, even being reminded we are dust and to dust we shall return.  Of if we go to church on a regular basis, we know that Jesus is just the final act of God in response to the ways the people of God broke their covenant with God again and again – ignoring prophets and sages, ignoring the sins of their ancestors, ignoring all the blessings and glimmers of hope from God and instead doing our own will, not God’s will.

Once you know that whole narrative, humbling dragging our baggage of misbehavior, misdeeds, misguided wills, then the story we hear today is not just a “and then they lived happily ever after” ending.  Today’s story is profound, unbelievable, and, as the text says, literally earth-shattering.  What God in Jesus does today is entirely undeserved, nothing we are remotely entitled to, and utterly full of love, forgiveness, and grace.  When we carry the weight of that entire book we have been reading, then today’s text is the very reason we say alleluia over and over again today.  Today’s text is the reason we make our way to this place, whether we have never been here before, are not entirely sure we want to be here, whether our faith journey has begun to be renewed here, or whether this place feels like home for us.  Today’s text is the reason we have any hope at all in this conflicted, messy, seemly unsavable world.

But here is the funny thing about this beyond happily ever after ending:  this is not the end.  After the earth is literally shaken at its core, the appearance of an otherworldly angel, and even an encounter with the risen Christ, the story goes on.  Mary Magdalene and the other Mary go witness to the other disciples.  We are told they go with fear – even though both the angel and Jesus tell them to not be afraid.  We are told they go with joy – because even though this new thing is terrifying, this new thing is terrifyingly joyful.  We are told they run – run to share the best beginning they have ever heard.

That is our invitation today.  In Christ’s death, we hear the best beginning we have ever heard.  Knowing all that we know of the prelude, we know that this is terrifyingly joyful news.  But this is news that we are invited not just to share, but to run and share.  I do not know to whom you need to run to today.  Maybe someone in your life needs this terrifyingly joyful reminder of resurrection.  Maybe someone you have never met before is waiting for you to run into them.  Or maybe you just need to run into your downtrodden self and remind yourself of this good news.  When the clergy today says, “Let us go forth into the world rejoicing in the power of the Holy Spirit, alleluia, alleluia,” our response is not just a verbal one.  Today we are invited to run and share the good news!  Amen!

[i] Kathryn M. Schifferdecker, “Dear Working Preacher:  The Foundation of Christian Hope,” April 2, 2023, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/the-foundation-of-christian-hope on April 5, 2023.

Sermon – Gen., Ex., Ez., Zeph., Mt. 28.1-10, EV, YA, April 8, 2023

30 Tuesday May 2023

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If you have ever longed for a way to explain or express your faith to someone or even to yourself, this night, Easter Vigil, is the best articulation or encapsulation of our faith.  If ever you were hoping to showcase to a friend the best example of Church, this is the night in which the Church is at the Church’s fullest.  This night has everything – the drama of the Pascal fire and candle, the haunting beauty of the Exsultet, the narration of our salvation history, Baptism and Eucharist, and all the joy that comes with Easter.  After this night, the rest of our Easter celebrations pale in comparison.  This is the night. 

The challenge of Easter for us is that not only are we quick to forget the darkness of the past week, but also we are tempted to only celebrate what God has done in Jesus Christ, and not celebrate how extraordinary what God has done in Jesus Christ is in light of what God has done throughout all time.  Easter Vigil pulls us out of that desire to be narrowly focused and thrusts us back into the full story that is our story – the story that makes Jesus’ resurrection all the more powerful.  Easter Vigil gives us the opportunity to step out of the empty tomb, and to immediately recall all the other things that God has done for us – the ways that God has repeatedly delivered us – and to understand at a much deeper level the significance of this night.

Tonight, we hear five of the nine possible readings we could have read which narrate our salvation history.  First, we hear the creation story – that story wherein God takes a watery chaos and creates the earth and all that is in the earth:  the lights, the waters, the birds, the animals, the ground and vegetation, humanity, and Sabbath.  We hear again and again how God creates and how that creation is good.  We hear in this first reading the tender lovingkindness of God, the abundance of creation, and the glory of God.  Second, we hear the dramatic story of the flood, where our sinfulness drives God to flood the earth.  But the flood story is also a story of God’s mercy – a God who loves so much that God cannot totally annihilate God’s creation.  After the flood, God promises to never again harm creation so deeply.  Then we hear the Exodus story – that story where God takes God’s people out of slavery, frees them from Egypt, and guides them through the Red Sea to the final destruction of pharaoh’s army.  Despite the people’s groaning, their illogical desire to return to slavery rather than to trust in the Lord, and the people’s unworthiness of such grace, God saves the people, delivering them from bondage and death.  Next, we hear that haunting story from Ezekiel, where the prophet breathes breath back into a valley full of dry bones – the dry bones of the people Israel, symbolizing God’s restoration of Israel.  Finally, finally, we hear the Zephaniah story of the gathering of God’s people back together from exile – that story in which God promises to return God’s people to the Promised Land, to deliver them from their suffering at the hands of oppressors, and to restore their fortunes.  As an exiled people, who quite frankly deserved the loss of their land because of the ways they deserted God, this promise of being regathered is more than they could ever hope for or imagine.

In light of this salvation history – this snapshot way of showing how lovingly God creates us, how lovingly God forgives us, and how lovingly God returns to us time and again, despite our grievous sins – we then turn to Jesus’ story.  We see that as God’s people we have benefited from the many times that God has delivered us from oppression and suffering caused by our sinfulness; but in this final act by God, the giving of God’s Son Jesus Christ to suffering, persecution, and death, we see that Jesus’ resurrection means that we not only have a God that delivers us from the bondage of death in this world, but also we have a God that delivers us from bondage of death in the life to come.  Instead of taking away one more earthly oppressor, God takes away the oppressor of death – granting us forgiveness of our sins and eternal life.  This narrative, the story of the empty tomb is the last stop in that salvation narrative for us. 

This is the night – when we remember what God does for us at the Red Sea.  This is the night – when we recall that Christ died for our sins.  This is the night – when we proclaim that Christ has broken the bonds of death and given us eternal life.  And we remember all of that this night through our actions – the lighting of the Pascal candle, the reaffirmation of our baptismal covenant, and the receiving of bread and wine.  We hear the word of God, and we respond to the word of God through our liturgical actions. 

And so what does God call us to do in light of this night?  Rejoice now!  The whole earth – that earth that God created – rejoices because darkness is vanquished through Jesus Christ.  The heavenly chorus rejoices – shouting for the salvation fulfilled and completed in Christ the King.  The Church rejoices – we resound as a people, being glad for all that God does for us through Jesus Christ.  Like our ancestor the prophet Miriam who led the women in dancing and song, we too are bursting with praise and thanksgiving.  We praise God in song, prayer, and proclamation because we are so overwhelmed with the abundance of God’s love and grace for us.  We rejoice now, because like the Israelites on the other side of the Sea, we are awed by God, and can only offer our adoration.  We have no way of paying God back or thanking God enough.  And so, with great adoration and awe, we rejoice now.  And we leave this place, bursting with joy as we share the salvation story of all that God has done for us.  Rejoice now, Mother Church!  Alleluia!  Alleluia!