“The Apostles' Creed, a Lover's Quarrel: on the Third Day, He
Total Page:16
File Type:pdf, Size:1020Kb
“The Apostles’ Creed, A Lover’s Quarrel: On The Third Day, He Rose Again from the Dead” A sermon by Rev. Aaron Fulp-Eickstaedt At Immanuel Presbyterian Church, McLean VA On August 4th, 2013 I Corinthians 15:1-10 Today I continue my summer sermon series, which I’m calling The Apostles’ Creed, A Lover’s Quarrel, by looking at the phrase, “On the Third Day, He Rose Again from the Dead.” It seems to me that preaching “on the third day, he rose again from the dead” is a chance to preach an Easter sermon, only without the large crowds and without the support of the full choir, the brass quintet and timpani. So I was first drawn to the various Gospel accounts of the Resurrection morning—Matthew’s story of the women leaving the tomb with fear and great joy to tell the disciples what they had seen; Mark’s account, in which the women were fearful and said nothing to anyone; Luke’s version, which begins in the darkness, with Mary Magdalene seeing Jesus but mistaking him for the gardener. I was first drawn to the Gospel accounts. But then I started to think that I rarely read what Paul said about the Resurrection. Why not do that on a Sunday that isn’t Easter? As I read the first several verses of the 15th chapter of his letter to the church in Corinth, note what Paul says about the good news. It’s not just that Jesus died, but that he was raised from the dead. And it’s not just that he was raised, but that he also appeared—not just to the twelve, but to others, and then to Paul. The good news is not just that Jesus was a good man, or that he died and was buried. The good news is also that Jesus was raised from the dead. Now I should remind you, brothers and sisters, of the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you—unless you have come to believe in vain. For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures, and that he was buried, and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures, and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. Last of all, as to someone untimely born, he appeared also to me. For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace towards me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them—though it was not I, but the grace of God that is with me. Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you have come to believe. Last Sunday I preached on the phrase “he descended into hell.” Dan told me that afternoon that it was ‘one helluva sermon’. More than one person said that it helped them appreciate and ‘own’ that line for the first time. A few others said that it was among the most powerful sermons they’d ever heard me preach. While that feedback all felt nice, I think it was about more than just the way the sermon was put together or the passion with which it was delivered. I think it was the topic that spoke to people: the idea that there is nowhere we can go that God won’t be with us, won’t seek us out. Even in our profoundest experiences of separation and feelings of God-forsakenness. Even in our deepest grief, our shame, our pain… God will be with us. Well, that’s a message people long to hear. It’s also true. That’s why Romans 8, which I didn’t read last week, has always been among my favorite passages. Nothing in all creation can separate us from the love of God, in Christ Jesus our Lord. That’s good news. No matter what hell we go through--hardship, distress, persecution, famine, nakedness, peril or sword—nothing can separate us from the love of God, Paul says. Not death nor life, angels or rulers, things present or things to come; nor powers, nor height or depth, nor anything else in all creation. I think that’s the very pinnacle of the Apostle Paul’s writing. We worship a God who is with us in the darkest moments of life. And there are plenty of dark moments. But is that all there is? To quote the old song, is that all there is?i It’s worth noting that the creed does not stop with the line “he descended into hell.” As somebody put it once, Jesus may have descended to hell, but he didn’t intend to stay there, he didn’t mean to set up permanent residence there. Hell isn’t even a nice place to visit. You sure as Hades wouldn’t want to live there! That’s why “on the third day he rose again from the dead” is so important. Because it is one thing to acknowledge that God is with us in the midst of pain, brokenness, division—it’s quite another to say that God will let those things have the final say, in our own lives or in the life of the world. Because if you say that they really do get the last word, that there’s no hope, then you might as well just “Surrender, Dorothy” (to quote the Wicked Witch of the West’s skywriting from her broom in “The Wizard of Oz”). But the Creed does not end with “he descended into hell.” However you approach Easter, however you understand what it means to say “he rose again from the dead,” there is no denying that the Resurrection intends to open up what we think is settled and done. Not long ago I heard Will Willimon, former Dean of the Chapel at Duke University and retired Methodist Bishop of the Alabama Conference, say that people like us--in other words, people who are reasonably financially secure, who live in the first world with all of its creature comforts, who have, when you think about it, a pretty cushy life (aside from the anxieties that keep us awake at night and the pains and loss that are part of living in a body), people like us, he says, tend to emphasize the Incarnation: the idea that God was embodied in the world. You see, the incarnation can be used to protect the status quo. God is with us, no matter what. God is with us. Nothing needs to change.ii But people for whom the status quo is not so tolerable, Willimon says, they tend to emphasize the idea of the Resurrection. Because the Resurrection, in saying that death was not final for Jesus, says that all that we think is settled—a social order that privileges some at the expense of others, the violence and fear rampant in our world, the death of a rabble-rouser like Jesus at the hands of the fearful and violent, death itself—well, all these things are not as settled as we thought they were. The destructive habits that we wear like an old shoe, the patterns that we think can never change—well, they are just not as settled as we thought they were. I never get tired of what Anne Lamott says about God’s grace. It’s a view that combines incarnation and Resurrection, I think. Grace, she says, meets us where we are but it loves us too much to let us stay that way.iii Last Sunday at the Immanuel in the Evening service, Chris Chatelaine-Samsen, as a response to the sermon, handed out 3X5 sheets of special paper. The paper was embedded with wildflower seeds. Chris invited us to write down on that paper something in our lives that makes us feel cut off from God and from our best selves— something that represents for us an experience of hell on earth. Chris gave us some time to think about what we’d put on that paper and then asked us to take it home and plant it. Bury it under dirt, let the soil cover it; let the rains come. And then he asked us to see what came up. I have a confession to make. I haven’t buried mine yet. But I was nudged towards it by reading something this week that Presbyterian pastor and author, Frederick Buechner wrote some years ago. Writing of his own struggles with being anxious, Buechner wrote of being raised from death. Not death of the body, but death of the heart: "God knows we have our own demons to be cast out, our own uncleanness to be cleansed. Neurotic anxiety happens to be my own particular demon, a floating sense of doom that has ruined many of what could have been, should have been, the happiest days of my life, and more than a few times in my life I have been raised from such ruins, which is another way of saying that more than a few times in my life I have been raised from death - death of the spirit anyway, death of the heart - by the healing power that Jesus calls us both to heal with and to be healed by."iv He’s talking about Resurrection.