My name is Danny Bradfield. My pronouns are he/him/his, and I’m pastor of Bixby Knolls Christian Church.
Peace be with you!
I would love it if we could pass the peace with hugs and handshakes, but we can't do that yet.
Nevertheless, we are here. In the sanctuary. Many of us.
But not all of us. We have asked some to participate from our fellowship hall, so we can stay spread out. And others are joining us from home.
Whatever way you are joining us today, welcome. I’m glad you’re here. Your presence is a blessing to me and to all those who are worshiping with you on this Easter Sunday.
It has been a challenge for us this past year, to be one church, even though we haven’t been able to be in one place.
And still, that challenge continues, because we are still not yet able to be in one place. Not all of us.
And some of us who are in this place, in this sanctuary, feel a little more vulnerable, and some of us feel a little less vulnerable. Some of us have been vaccinated, and some of us have yet to be vaccinated.
So, the risk is that, because of these things, some of us may feel a little more included, and some of us may feel a little less included.
I am reminded of the many times in scripture when Jesus deliberately sought out those who were “less included,” and made them “more included.” Like the one sheep that was lost; or like the woman who washed his feet with her hair and her tears; or like the thousands who were left out of Rome’s economic prosperity and who were often hungry, who Jesus fed in the wilderness.
Or, like Mary Magdalene. Mary Magdalene is the “lead character” in today’s Bible story. This really is her story, from beginning to end, and it acknowledges her as the first preacher of the resurrection.
A lot of things have been said about Mary, both in the Bible and outside of the Bible, so some of the things you think you know about Mary might not be true.
Mary Magdalene - to paraphrase an essay by Dane Figueroa Edidi - was not a sex worker. That was a lie a pope told because he wanted to both shame and control sex workers - and maybe because he was upset that the first resurrection preacher was a woman.
Mary more than likely was a widow, who helped to finance Jesus's movement and who became one of his favorite disciples.
Women (like Mary) weren’t usually included in ancient stories. They weren’t considered credible witnesses. They couldn’t testify in trial. Yet here she is, in the gospel, as the first witness to the resurrection.
Her story is included, just as she was included by Jesus. Jesus included many who were often excluded by society, and excluded by the religious grand poo-bahs - those Katie Hays calls the “VRPs - very religious persons,” who had a tendency to draw lines that kept people out.
The VRPs were very strict about who they would include, but Jesus included everyone. As the new movement that began in his name grew and attracted more followers, it included many others who had previously been shut out: Gentiles. Immigrants. Eunuchs.
The kingdom of God is, in this way, very different from the kingdoms of the world. You don’t need to be a VRP, a person of influence, a grand poobah, a person of wealth or power, to be welcome. You don’t need to have the right look or to have come from the right family. You don’t have to fit in with what society says is normal or acceptable. A genuine welcome is extended to all.
When I got my vaccination, and the very nice person there who administered my shot handed me my vaccination card, they said to me, “keep this with your passport. You might need it next time you fly.”
And on Friday, the CDC said that those who are vaccinated no longer need to quarantine or be tested when they travel.
I appreciate the restrictions and rules that are put in place to keep us safe and healthy. But I realized that, if we’re not careful, our vaccination cards can become yet another way that some people are included, and some people are excluded. At least right now, when not everyone who wants the vaccine has been able to get it.
So as we worship, and as we move forward as a community of faith, and as we wait for everyone to be vaccinated: I ask you to join me in making sure that everyone is included. Easter is for everyone. The Table is for everyone. And now, more than ever, we need to make sure that is our message and our practice.
So when some of us are in this sanctuary and some of us are not; and when some of us are vaccinated and some of us are still waiting to be vaccinated; our challenge is to make sure all are included.
After we all have had a chance to be vaccinated, there will be other divisions and separations to overcome. Some will continue to worship with us online, because they live too far away, or because church - any church - is not an emotionally safe place for them. They have been lied to by the church, abused by the church, hurt by the church... and watching online is perhaps as much as they can do right now.
So as we worship in different ways, we will try our best to do all we can to make sure every person feels welcome, included. Because this is what Jesus would do.
So, to protect one another and to make sure we include one another, we have instituted a strict seating arrangement here in our sanctuary. To protect one another and make sure we include one another, we will not be having any kind of fellowship following the worship service.
In fact, even if you are here in person, the best way to interact with one another may still be by leaving a comment on the livestream, if you have the technology and the know-how.
When we are here in worship, some of us are more vulnerable than others, so I ask that even those who are fully vaccinated keep six feet of distance and refrain from hugging one another or greeting with other forms of touch.
It’s like when the apostle Paul gave his instructions to the Christian communities about abstaining from certain types of food. He told them that, in Christ, all types of food are acceptable, and yet, because for some people, certain types of foods are seen as unclean, the followers of Christ should still refrain from eating those foods as a way of showing welcome and solidarity with one another.
It is safe for fully vaccinated people to be in close contact with one another; and yet, to show welcome and solidarity, we will continue to refrain, at least for now.
Because that’s what the table of Christ is all about. That’s what it means to show welcome and extravagant hospitality at the Lord’s Table.
Now. Just the fact that some of us are in the sanctuary today is a sign of new life, a sign of a new beginning - and new life and new beginnings are what Easter is all about.
But Easter isn’t just one day. Easter Sunday is just the beginning. What’s that song we sing sometimes? “Every morning is Easter morning…”
The resurrection isn’t the end of the story. It’s just the beginning.
Because after the resurrection, the disciples spend some time figuring things out… and then, at Pentecost, they are filled with the Spirit and with a confidence they didn’t seem to have before… and that marks the beginning of their work, of carrying out the mission that Jesus had been preparing them for while he was with them.
It was just the beginning.
And then the apostle Paul joins the movement... He joined the movement when he was journeying on the road to Damascus, and was met by Christ in a blinding light, and heard Jesus call out to him from that light.
He said to the voice, “Who are you?” And as Diana Butler Bass writes in her brand new book, Paul kept asking that question the rest of his life. “From his first encounter on the Damascus road, along the paths of his missionary journeys, to his own imprisonment and execution, Paul met Jesus over and over again, and Jesus was always new." [Diana Butler Bass, Finding Jesus]
It was just the beginning.
And more and more, I feel like that is true for me, too. I feel like, every day, Jesus is always new. So new, that I - like Mary - don’t always recognize him… He looks so different than what I thought. He looks different than how I assumed he’d look.
I feel like, every day, I’m discovering something new about Jesus, about faith, about what God is calling me to do, and what God is calling us, as a church, to do.
And every day, it feels like a new beginning.
When I was a teenager, I thought that, certainly, by the time I was 50, I would have everything all figured out. (Actually, I thought I’d have everything figured out by 30!) Now that I am 50, I realize, this is just the beginning.
And here we are, as a congregation: Bixby Knolls Christian Church, celebrating 75 years of ministry! You would think that we’d have everything all figured out by now. All the gears are set in place; all we have to do is wind it up, sit back, and watch it run.
No! It doesn’t work that way!
Because everything is new every day.
Because every day, it is true that this is just the beginning...
In a way, it’s all exciting, because it’s all a sign of new life.
But we know that it was a long, hard road to get to where we’re at, and it will be a long, hard road still, to get to where we want to be. It’s a struggle. A good struggle.
We are filled with hope - great hope - cautious hope - but hope, nonetheless, for the future… and, at the same time, we are filled with great sadness and grief for all we have lost in the year that has passed.
That is also part of the struggle.
A few weeks ago, I asked you to have a rock, and to use it in worship….
And maybe some of you brought your rocks with you to worship today. And maybe some of you at home still have your rocks.
These are our rocks of lament. They symbolize the grief and the loss we have experienced over the past year of the pandemic.
Because we need to maintain social distance, I’m not going to ask you who are here to bring your rocks forward, but I’ve gathered some rocks here, some rocks of lament, and I’d like to name them.
This kind of moves us into a time of prayer, so as I name these rocks, feel free to name your own rocks, and to share your own laments in the comments on facebook, or whisper them out loud, or speak them silently, from the pew or chair or couch where you are sitting.
O God, this Easter day is a day of joy, a day of new life, a day of new beginning… it is a day we have looked forward to for over a year, being able to welcome people into our sanctuary for worship… but as we gather, and as we celebrate, we carry with us our griefs, our burdens, our laments.
And we name those griefs and those laments for you now.
For the lives lost to the pandemic, and for those who have died from any cause this past year, whose deaths were made harder due to restrictions on visiting, and limits on how we can gather…
For the lost opportunities to gather with friends and family, to hug children and grandchildren and relatives…
For the celebrations that never took place. Birthdays. Graduations. Proms. Anniversaries...
For the hatred that has been exposed during this time of pandemic, especially hatred rooted in white supremacy, seen most recently by our Disciple friends at nearby Yedidyah Christian Church in Norwalk…and for the hatred directed toward those who are part of the LGBTQ+ community.
For the loss of activities that mean so much: cancelled summer camp, cancelled VBS, cancelled Wednesday Night Dinners, cancelled CWF gatherings, and cancelled times of fellowship…
For the loss of simple routines that bring us comfort: going out to the coffee shop, the restaurant, the bar, the music performance, the movie theater…even the office or the classroom...
We name these losses, and we lift up our laments to you, knowing that you will help us bear them, and that you will comfort us in our time of sorrow.
We name these losses, and build our altar of lament, as a reminder of your comforting presence, and as a reminder that we can be a comfort and support to one another.
In addition to our prayers of lament, we also offer to you our prayers of gratitude…
For the kindness that has been shown to us through phone calls, cards, prayers, and other acts of caring…
For the ongoing faithfulness and generous support of church members who have continued to give financially to the church, give time and labor to the church, and pray for the church…
For your continued guidance and wisdom, as you lead us into new ways of doing ministry and new ways of standing for justice in our world…
For the care and concern people show to one another by wearing masks, keeping their distance, getting vaccinated they’re able to, and showing love to their neighbors in every way possible…
For the feel of wooden pews on our backs, and the slightly musty smell of the sanctuary, and the beautiful colors of light shining through the stained glass windows…
For new life and new beginnings; for a love from which not even death can separate us; for spring, and wildflowers, and late sunsets, and so much more.
For all these things, we give you thanks, O God. Amen.
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