Sermon preached by the Reverend John E. Kitagawa at the Celebration of the Holy Eucharist, on Easter Day, 23 March 2008 (The Sunday of the Resurrection), at St. Philip’s In The Hills Parish, Tucson, Arizona

FRIENDS OF JESUS

Acts 10: 34-43; Colossians 3: 1-4; John 20: 1-18

Alleluia! Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

In my Easter letter to parishioners, I quoted one of my favorite theologians, Henri Nouwen.

[The Resurrection] was an event for the friends of Jesus, for those who had known him, listened to him, and believed in him. It was a very intimate event: a word here, a gesture there, and a gradual awareness that something new was being born—small, hardly noticed, but with the potential to change the face of the earth. … Jesus’ friends felt their hearts burn in encounters that find expression in the remarkable words “He is risen.” All had remained the same, while all had changed.

Having experienced this intimate event, Jesus’ confused and fearful friends became purposeful and courageous apostles. The Resurrection made it possible for them “to move from heartache to hope, from fear to faith, from bewilderment to belief, from duty to delight.” Their newfound confidence and zeal led them to preach and to witness in Jerusalem and far beyond.

We are Jesus’ friends too. We become friends as we read and meditate on his word. We grow in our friendship as we commune with him sacramentally and in prayer. We celebrate our friendship most joyfully surrounded and supported by other friends of Jesus in this beloved community. Still, like the first disciples, we are sometimes fearful, often bewildered, and we certainly live with our share of pain and heartaches. The Gospels tell us of the Resurrection long ago, but Easter happens for real again and again as the Risen Christ comes to us, and speaks our names. The Risen Christ usually comes quietly and subtly in a healing touch, in the graceful gesture of friend, in a word of prayer, in the stillness of silence, in the music of the liturgy, in signs of life in the desert, and in countless other ways. When you see or experience the Risen Christ, welcome him, embrace him, open your heart and mind to him. Each time you do, your faith will deepen, and your confidence will grow that with the Risen Christ, you too can move “from heartache to hope, from fear to faith, from bewilderment to belief, from duty to delight”—usually slowly, sometimes imperceptibly at first.

For me, the most profound Good News today is that Easter is not about the promise of new life down the road someday; Easter is about the reality and gift of new life in the present through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. This is why it is appropriate to baptize today, and for the rest of us to renew our Baptismal vows. Fundamentally, Baptism is about the Easter experience. It is about death and resurrection—about letting go of one way of living, and rising to a new life with Christ. We are not talking about magic here. We are talking about an inward and spiritual journey of change at our very core, and the journey to become agents of change in the lives and communities we touch. The infants we baptize today have no idea what is happening to them. Nevertheless, by their Baptisms, they become “Christ’s own forever”[i]. Hopefully, they will make their life journeys within the community of the Church. For it is here they will come to know that Easter happens again and again as the Risen Christ comes, and speaks our names.

As glorious and filled with joy, hope and love this day is, I find Easter challenging. For me, for the children we baptize today and for many of you, one of the most challenging aspects of Easter is accepting and embracing this gift of new life. It means doing things I am not very good at, such as being vulnerable and humble, and letting go of things like pride and self-confidence—all things that get in the way of Christ’s healing, reconciling and redeeming work in me. Another challenge is perceiving and then relying upon the transformation within myself that make it more and more possible to serve God and God’s people. Yet another challenge is learning to refocus my vision, trying to see through the clear eyes of Christ. An imperfect analogy may be the struggle we sometimes experience with new prescription lenses, especially that first set of bi-focals.

So, I share two stories as witnesses to the power of the resurrection acting through Easter people. The first comes from South Africa.

After 27 years in prison, [Nelson] Mandela emerged and was elected president … Early in his presidency he appointed Archbishop Desmond Tutu to head [a] government panel entitled the Truth and Reconciliation Commission.

The rules were simple: if a white policeman or army officer voluntarily faced his accusers, confessed his crime, and fully acknowledged his guilt, he could not be tried and punished for the crime. This approach was highly controversial, but Tutu kept insisting that the country needed healing rather than eye-for-an-eye justice.

At one hearing a policeman named Van de Broek recounted an incident when he and other officers shot an 18-year-old boy and burned the body to destroy the evidence. Eight years later, Van de Broek returned to the same house to seize the boy’s father. The man’s wife was forced to watch as the policeman bound her husband on a woodpile, poured gasoline over his body and ignited it with a match.

After the man recounted his crimes, the judge turned straight to the elderly woman who had lost her husband and her son to this atrocity, and asked, “What do you want from Mr. Van de Broek?” You can imagine the hush in the courtroom as the elderly woman rose to speak.

She said she wanted Van de Broek to go to the place where they had burned her husband’s body and gather up the dust, so she could give him a decent burial. Van de Broek, his head bowed, nodded his agreement.

Then she added a further request. “Mr. Van de Broek took all my family away from me,” she said, looking at him, “but I still have a lot of love to give. Twice a month I would like for him to come to the township and spend a day with me so I can be a mother to him. And I would like Mr. Van de Broek to know that he is forgiven by God, and that I forgive him too. I would like to embrace him so he can know that my forgiveness is real”[ii].

The Truth and Reconciliation Commission was established on the basis of a set of life-giving values: reconciliation rather than revenge, forgiveness rather than retribution. In that context, the old woman was able to act in conformity with the risen Christ, and to bear witness to new life for Van de Broek and herself.

The second story arises from the current divisions straining relationships within the Episcopal Church. You may have heard about this summer’s Lambeth Conference. Archbishops of Canterbury have periodically invited Bishops of the Anglican Communion to Lambeth Conferences since 1867. A “Lambeth Conference has no ‘constitution’ or formal powers; [and] it is not a formal Synod or Council of the bishops of the Communion”[iii]. Nevertheless, Lambeth is the most influential “Instrument of Unity”, representing the breadth and diversity of the Communion. Despite intense negotiations, Bishop Gene Robinson, the Bishop of New Hampshire, recently learned that he is the only bishop of the Episcopal Church not invited to Lambeth 2008. Here is a portion of the response he made at the recent House of Bishops meeting.

I learned of the results of [the] negotiation Friday … I have been in considerable pain ever since. But I want to acknowledge that I am not the first or last person to be in pain at a House of Bishops meeting.

My own pain was sufficient that for 36 hours I felt the compelling urge … to flee. My inspiration for staying came from my conservative brothers … I have seen [them] show up for years when there was a lot of pain for them. I see [others], and I know it is a very difficult thing for them to be here … For me, the worst sin is leaving the table. And that is what I was on the verge of doing. But, largely because of you, I stayed. Thank you for that.

In my most difficult moments, it feels as if, instead of leaving the 99 sheep in search of the one, my chief pastor and shepherd, the Archbishop of Canterbury, has cut me out of the herd.

Some of you have indicated that if I am not invited, you won’t go … I want to say loud and clear – you must go. You must find your voice. And somehow you have to find my voice and the voices of the gay and lesbian people in your diocese who, for now, don’t have a voice in this setting. I’d much rather be talked to than talked about. But you must go and tell the stories of your people, faithful members of your flock who happen to be lesbian and gay. For God’s sake, don’t stay away.

From the day I walked into this House I have been treated with respect and welcomed, even, and perhaps especially, by those of you who voted no on my consent. I can never thank you enough for that. I will always and [in] every moment treasure your welcome and hospitality[iv].

I think Robinson demonstrates an usual gracefulness, born of an Easter faith. He chose not to flee. He gave credit to, and identified with the example of opponents. Instead of reacting with anger and condemnation, he continues to reach out and to seek common ground in the person of our Savior Jesus Christ. Rather than encouraging bishops to huddle around him and to boycott Lambeth, Robinson urges them to go and to be witnesses for those who would otherwise have no voice. He understands that ultimately, this is not about him or in the end about sexuality. In his words, it is “about God’s love of all of God’s children.” Again, in his words, it is about “the God who saved me and redeemed me and continues to live in my life.”

I share these stories because they testify to reality of new life made possible in and through faith in the Risen Christ. Rejoice! I say, Rejoice and be of good courage! Whereas others had seen the empty tomb, Mary saw the risen Lord and was sent to proclaim the joyful news. Without Mary’s testimony, we would only have Jesus’ earlier prophecies about being raised on the third day, and the empty tomb. With Mary’s testimony, we know Christ is alive. We know that “the life that God brought into the world in Jesus is here forever with us”[v] and for us. And so we sing with joy,

Alleluia, alleluia! Give thanks to the risen Lord.

Alleluia, alleluia! Give praise to his Name.

We have been crucified with Christ.

Now we shall live forever.

Alleluia, alleluia! Give thanks to the risen Lord.

Alleluia, alleluia! Give praise to his Name[vi].

AMEN.