Date: 04 Apr 2000
Time: 18:55:34
RE: EASTER COMMUNION
Hi. Does anyone have a liturgy for a communion service that is specifically for Easter? We want to do something "special" that day, and would greatly appreciate any help. Please email me directly at: <revbecca@aol.com"
Thanks! Rebecca Kemper
Date: 16 Apr 2000
Time: 21:17:25
Rebecca: Someone gave me many years ago an Episcopal resource (Im UCC) that has a special Great Thanksgiving for every season of the church year, as well as a few of the special days. I have it at my office, but if you would like to e-mail me your address I will do the old fashioned way of mailing you a photocopy of Easter's prayers. RevSSJ@cs.com
Date: 16 Apr 2000
Time: 22:37:18
We also are doing Communion and would like to get some good ideas for the service. You can e-mail me at jlminiken@mail.tss.net Thanks in advance. Jude in Wash.
Date: 17 Apr 2000
Time: 03:08:58
An excellent Easter Communion liturgy written especially for this year and based on lectionary (as well as liturgies for Good Friday and every Sunday) can be found at: http://www.liturgiesonline.com.au. The liturgies are written by Rev. Dr. Moira Laidlaw, a retired minister of the Uniting Church in Australia, and are usually posted a week or two in advance. They are always great value and are usually complete with full liturgy, hymns and children's story or story ideas. They are both sound and creative.
Outback Aussie
Date: 17 Apr 2000
Time: 12:49:05
Mary's request: "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away."
Ahh, how she longs for Him she loves, how she can't let go and stays at the place she last saw Him. Her heart is broken and she wants to do the one last thing for Him that she could, prepare His body for burial. And to the hollow place in her heart a word is spoken. "Mary."
With one little word she is the one taken away, taken to the place of joy restored, taken to the land called Victory. With one small word she is the one carried away, carried away to the land called, Joy Everlasting.
And with three little words it's all possible for you and me: "He is risen!" Do you hear Him calling your name?
John near Pitts.
Date: 17 Apr 2000
Time: 12:58:40
While this year's Resurrection text has only Mary going to the tomb, here's something I wrote a few years ago after the death of my grandfather. I think Luke's account mentions the three women.
The movement to and from the tomb (especially in Luke) has always facinated me.
There’s a scene in the movie, “Sophie’s Choice” that I often think about this time of year. It’s at the end and Stingo returns to the boarding house where he lived with his friends, Nathan and Sophie. The house is filled with people; neighbors and boarders, policemen and other inquirers. Nathan’s brother takes Stingo by the hand and leads him up the stairs, across the landing and into a room. On the bed lie Sophie and Nathan, her back is toward him and he is cradling her in his arms. It’s their final embrace. Each tortured by their demons, they had committed suicide together. The scene is so real to me. I know the same quiet, the respectful hush given by others when a member of the mourning family walks into a room. I’ve walked this death-walk many times; head down, stepping so deliberately but so automatically toward the realization that it’s over. How can something be so expecting and yet catch us by such surprise…the final period, the end.
As I said, I’ve made this journey many times, following a family, silent in my respect and silent because some things are best said by not saying a word. Sometimes you can only walk along; you can’t know their feelings, but you can hurt with them. Those steps are so hard. Sometimes it’s like walking into a strong head-wind or through thick mud. The legs just don’t work right. Death is so forceful and fearing.
No matter how many times you accompany someone else through their own death-walk it never hits you like when it’s a member of your own family. In 1985 my grandfather had a heart attack during a worship service at my home church in Penn, PA. We began a vigil in the hospital, each of us taking turns sitting with Grandpap. He was in a coma and never did regain consciousness. For several days we each walked the hospital corridor toward the Intensive Care Unit where Grandpap was. I remember one of the last times we walked the hallway. My sister came and got us in the waiting room; “Come on, it’s time,” she said. We all walked together down that corridor, a head-wind blowing, gravity sucking the energy from our legs. We were all together with Grandpap when he died. It’s still hard to think about, it’s still hard to write about.
It was the same walk that three women took on a path on an early Sunday morning in Jerusalem. The gale of death blowing hard against them, they worked their way to the tomb where Jesus had been placed. I imagine they kept each other company with their silence. We know the story, and we’ll hear it again and again because it’s the story of our hope and joy. Jesus was not there, he was alive! It says that the women hurried away from the tomb, afraid yet filled with joy. It says they ran to tell the disciples. There was not the head-wind of death, but a tail-wind of resurrection. The Good News pushed them on their way.
That’s what Easter is all about…so lifeless with death, and then so alive with life. It’s Easter, resurrection that makes it possible to face losing our loved ones, that makes it possible for us to just hang in there one more day, and one more day after that. It’s Christ’s rising that makes our death-walks possible to walk and death possible to face.
Grandpap used to do this little dance we called the bear dance. It was like a Russian dance, you know the one, where you squat down and kick out your feet. It’s only through Christ’s resurrection that now I am able to see my grandfather. As we were walking up the hospital corridor, through the eyes of Easter, I can see Grandpap. He’s walking past us going in the opposite direction, out of the hospital. We are going in the direction to face death, but he’s going in the direction to face life. If I’d only been able at the time to look behind me, I’d probably have seen Grandpap bear-dancing his way down the hallway and into the nail scarred hands of the Lord of the Dance. I’d also have been able to see how good of a dancer Jesus is. HE IS RISEN, HALLELUJAH!
John near Pitts.
Date: 17 Apr 2000
Time: 14:13:29
Thank you, Outback Aussie. That is an awesome site. Jude in Wash.
Date: 17 Apr 2000
Time: 14:50:41
The cameras peer into devastated area following the tornados. Scattered debris fills a field where once there was a subdivision. People are frantically sifting through the rubble hoping to find that special item. Keepsakes, pictures, relics, something to jog the mind and memory when the hands seem so empty. If not the actual living person, we must have something to hold on to.
Mary goes to the tomb and finds it empty. There is no faith, only weeping. Two angels say to Mary, "Woman, why are you weeping?" "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him."
Jesus speaks to Mary, though she does not recognize him, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for.....Mary!....
Finaly after Mary recongnizes him, Jesus says, "Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father."
There are times when we all need something to hold on to. If that was Mary's desire, who could fault her. This woman, from whom 7 demons had gone out, who participated in Jesus' ministry (Lk 8), had gone with him to Jerusalem for a fina appeal (Mark 15), who had come to annoint his body (Mark 16,Lk 23).
What would sustain these memories? Would the impact of Jesus on her life disappear? Was all that had happened to her simply a dream?
John's high place of the ascension seems less significant in the other gospels and in Paul. All these things seem to have to happen in order for what is to follow to take place: granting of peace, and blessing of the Holy Spirit and the authority to forgive sins.
There is something in this passage that deals with the connection between memory and presence. To hold on to the resurrected body before the ascension is to miss out on his presence in a new and empowering way.
Memory is strengthened as we move forward. There is something to hold on to in God's future, a hope that gives meaning in times of emptiness. Senseless losses and disasters can take on significance and even a missional purpose, when people are willing to hold on to God's future rather than clinging to the past.
Date: 17 Apr 2000
Time: 17:05:18
Our congregation always celebrates Communion on Easter Sunday. We also enjoy tHE sacrament of Baptism on that day whenever possible. Last year we celebrated BOTH as we baptized into God's family our newest infant. Our service included tHE poem by Ann Weems titled "The Children's Sermon" and we used the specific image mentioned in it on our communion table along with the usual elements. For anyone interested, that poem is found in her collection KNEELING IN JERUSALEM. rEV sHE IN nc
Date: 18 Apr 2000
Time: 01:19:15
Does anyone know the history of the flowering of the cross? How do you do it as a part of worship? The hour draws near. This church has never done it before, nor have I, but we're doing it on Easter. Help if you can!! Thanks for the many times you all have bailed me out on a Saturday night with sermon thoughts and illustrations. God bless you each and every one as you prepare for Easter. May your words bring life and love to all...
Preacher Pat
Date: 18 Apr 2000
Time: 01:35:50
We all look for something to make Easter extra-special. Choirs perform cantatas, some pastors are offering a Eucharistic meal, other worship leaders will add drama to the worship experience. Actually, all that is needed is to proclaim, "He Is Risen." Those who worship just on Easter, get the point. The faithful just love to hear it said over and over. I think I will relax. Easter is special inspite of all my human pride which deceives me into thinking it hinges on my performance. Tenn. Mack
Date: 18 Apr 2000
Time: 02:42:02
Jude: Since I only have hard-copy of the Easter communion liturgy, please either give me your fax number or address. During Lent we had Wednesday "Stories of New Life" in which people testified about resurrection experiences--a church that was resurrected; a paralyzed man who found new kind of life; institutions that give new life to people. For Easter I want to weave these stories together around what held them together: new life comes in giving compassion to others. revssj@cs.com
Date: 18 Apr 2000
Time: 12:56:14
This is an idea for next year. We did it this year, and so far, it has gone down really well. I've included the meditation I wrote for this year, but I think the idea lends itself to lots of other ways of presenting. I hope it helps. You need to keep the Christmas tree, and let it dry up. On the first Sunday in Lent, replace it in the sanctuary. We've left the cross that was created standing in the sanctuary all during Lent. On Good Friday, it will be covered with a black cloth and on Easter Sunday the cloth will be removed, and the children will process to the front during the first hymn and decorate the cross in a garland of flowers. (Here is the meditation. It works best if the person speaking the part of jesus, remains unseen until the last statement. ) Followers of Jesus, we have come to a turning point in our journey... once we followed a star, now we wander in the wilderness... Once we heard angel voices and the wise and the hardened spoke in hushed awed tones before a baby. Now the voices have begun to harden and the sometimes angry tones hide fear. So, we come back bringing a symbol of the birth of our Saviour. This is the Christmas tree that stood here in December - sign of hope and promise and new beginning, decorated with childrens creations and elegant hangings and treasures stored up through the years. Beautiful and fragrant and alive... but look at it now. sign of death and decay and aging. stripped of branches or shoots or potential through the years... barren and desolate and forlorn. Look at it now. Of what use is it to us.. this broken symbol of life... What will we do with it now... what good word could it possibly speak to us now? How will it resurrect itself?
READER 1: We could make it into a crutch. Symbol of healing and restoring and helping... Jesus cured the sick and the lame. He showed compassion for the hurting ones. Remember the paralysed man - the woman with the bleeding - the blind and the deaf - the dead child... We could make it into a crutch.
Jesus: I said to the paralysed man, take up your mat and go home. I told the little girl to get up, but I told those around her to give her something to eat. The power to heal came from me, but the woman who touched my cloak had faith and desperately desired to be whole again. And there are many who are not healed physically, but there is wholeness. I am a healer and an enabler, but do not make a crutch of me.
READER 1: We could make it into a stick - a weapon - to be used only on the backs of oppressors of course... And on those who disagree or disobey or disgruntle. Jesus got angry. He yelled at the scribes and the pharisees, he got exasperated with his own disciples, he tore the Temple apart in a fit of temper. We could make it into a stick - a weapon.
Jesus: Of course I got angry and exasperated, and I did lose control when I saw how Godąs house was being misused. My righteous anger should be an example to my body... But I also said ... Blessed are the peace makers, and the meek. I said to turn the other cheek, to leave the judging to God, and to forgive always. I am angry and exasperated when my children are hurt, but my angry voice cries for peace. I am not a weapon.
READER 1: We could make it into building - a monument to God and a memorial to Jesus. Like the booths the disciples never got to build, like the Temple Soloman erected, like the buildings we have now with solid walls to protect us and hard seats to keep us in a straight line. We could make it into a building.
Jesus: The Son of Man has no place to lay his head, and I am not to be found contained within walls, even a sancturay. I am a Spirit; infinte and eternal. Do not confine me to a building.
READER 1: We could leave it just like it is and not change a thing. And as long as it lasts, we can remember Christmas - gifts and lights and baubles and happy times. Jesus is all about love and innocence and the peace of Christmas morning. We could leave it just like it is and not change a thing.
Jesus: Forget the former things. Remember them not. Behold, I am about to do a new thing. I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and life is always moving and change does not equal decay. The Spirit breathes newness. It blows and changes and stirs. I am about love and innocence and peace, but I am also a Warner, a teacher, an Inspirer. The peace I offer is not always an easy one but one to be fought for. And when the spirit blows, nothing is left as it was.
READER 1: We could just burn it. For as long as it lasted, at least it would do some good. What use is it just sitting here. If we burn it, it will give heat, we could cook and warm ourselves and others with it. Jesus was a doer; he wouldnąt have wanted it to be wasted. We could just burn it.
Jesus: When I was at dinner once with friends, a woman came and poured oil of tremendous cost on my feet, wiping them with her hair, mixing the oil with her tears. There was something eternal in her gesture; there was a symbol and a message. Some grumbled and called her a waster, but I did not agree. I was not to be with them forever, but the story of her love lives forever in the remembering of her gesture. It has not been wasted.
Narrator: So, what will we do with this tree - once a sign of hope and promise and new beginning, decorated with childrens creations and elegant hangings and treasures stored up through the years. Beautiful and fragrant and alive... Look at it now. Sign of death and decay and aging. Stripped of branches or shoots or potential through the years... barren and desolate and forlorn. Look at it now. Of what use is it to us.. this broken symbol of life... What will we do with it now... what good word could it possibly speak to us now? How will it resurrect itself?
(SOMEONE ENTERS AND SILENTLY TIES THE TREE INTO THE SHAPE OF A CROSS)
Jesus: In the cross, I turned a sign of death and decay and betrayal into a sign of eternal hope and promise and new beginning. In the face of hatred and ugliness , this cross, once desolate and barren and forlorn stands for love that turned the world on its head... Love that brings wholeness and healing, love that speaks strongly for peace, love that cannot be contained in any building - not even in a sanctuary, and love that never stops, but blows with a spirit of newness and inspiring that never leaves anything untouched. I was not to be with you forever, but this story of love lives forever in the remembering and living of it. And that is how I will resurrect. Peace, Sally in Camelot
PS This Sunday will be our first "family communion". Any ideas about coordinating these two major happenings?
Date: 18 Apr 2000
Time: 12:56:28
This is an idea for next year. We did it this year, and so far, it has gone down really well. I've included the meditation I wrote for this year, but I think the idea lends itself to lots of other ways of presenting. I hope it helps. You need to keep the Christmas tree, and let it dry up. On the first Sunday in Lent, replace it in the sanctuary. We've left the cross that was created standing in the sanctuary all during Lent. On Good Friday, it will be covered with a black cloth and on Easter Sunday the cloth will be removed, and the children will process to the front during the first hymn and decorate the cross in a garland of flowers. (Here is the meditation. It works best if the person speaking the part of jesus, remains unseen until the last statement. ) Followers of Jesus, we have come to a turning point in our journey... once we followed a star, now we wander in the wilderness... Once we heard angel voices and the wise and the hardened spoke in hushed awed tones before a baby. Now the voices have begun to harden and the sometimes angry tones hide fear. So, we come back bringing a symbol of the birth of our Saviour. This is the Christmas tree that stood here in December - sign of hope and promise and new beginning, decorated with childrens creations and elegant hangings and treasures stored up through the years. Beautiful and fragrant and alive... but look at it now. sign of death and decay and aging. stripped of branches or shoots or potential through the years... barren and desolate and forlorn. Look at it now. Of what use is it to us.. this broken symbol of life... What will we do with it now... what good word could it possibly speak to us now? How will it resurrect itself?
READER 1: We could make it into a crutch. Symbol of healing and restoring and helping... Jesus cured the sick and the lame. He showed compassion for the hurting ones. Remember the paralysed man - the woman with the bleeding - the blind and the deaf - the dead child... We could make it into a crutch.
Jesus: I said to the paralysed man, take up your mat and go home. I told the little girl to get up, but I told those around her to give her something to eat. The power to heal came from me, but the woman who touched my cloak had faith and desperately desired to be whole again. And there are many who are not healed physically, but there is wholeness. I am a healer and an enabler, but do not make a crutch of me.
READER 1: We could make it into a stick - a weapon - to be used only on the backs of oppressors of course... And on those who disagree or disobey or disgruntle. Jesus got angry. He yelled at the scribes and the pharisees, he got exasperated with his own disciples, he tore the Temple apart in a fit of temper. We could make it into a stick - a weapon.
Jesus: Of course I got angry and exasperated, and I did lose control when I saw how Godąs house was being misused. My righteous anger should be an example to my body... But I also said ... Blessed are the peace makers, and the meek. I said to turn the other cheek, to leave the judging to God, and to forgive always. I am angry and exasperated when my children are hurt, but my angry voice cries for peace. I am not a weapon.
READER 1: We could make it into building - a monument to God and a memorial to Jesus. Like the booths the disciples never got to build, like the Temple Soloman erected, like the buildings we have now with solid walls to protect us and hard seats to keep us in a straight line. We could make it into a building.
Jesus: The Son of Man has no place to lay his head, and I am not to be found contained within walls, even a sancturay. I am a Spirit; infinte and eternal. Do not confine me to a building.
READER 1: We could leave it just like it is and not change a thing. And as long as it lasts, we can remember Christmas - gifts and lights and baubles and happy times. Jesus is all about love and innocence and the peace of Christmas morning. We could leave it just like it is and not change a thing.
Jesus: Forget the former things. Remember them not. Behold, I am about to do a new thing. I am the Way, the Truth and the Life, and life is always moving and change does not equal decay. The Spirit breathes newness. It blows and changes and stirs. I am about love and innocence and peace, but I am also a Warner, a teacher, an Inspirer. The peace I offer is not always an easy one but one to be fought for. And when the spirit blows, nothing is left as it was.
READER 1: We could just burn it. For as long as it lasted, at least it would do some good. What use is it just sitting here. If we burn it, it will give heat, we could cook and warm ourselves and others with it. Jesus was a doer; he wouldnąt have wanted it to be wasted. We could just burn it.
Jesus: When I was at dinner once with friends, a woman came and poured oil of tremendous cost on my feet, wiping them with her hair, mixing the oil with her tears. There was something eternal in her gesture; there was a symbol and a message. Some grumbled and called her a waster, but I did not agree. I was not to be with them forever, but the story of her love lives forever in the remembering of her gesture. It has not been wasted.
Narrator: So, what will we do with this tree - once a sign of hope and promise and new beginning, decorated with childrens creations and elegant hangings and treasures stored up through the years. Beautiful and fragrant and alive... Look at it now. Sign of death and decay and aging. Stripped of branches or shoots or potential through the years... barren and desolate and forlorn. Look at it now. Of what use is it to us.. this broken symbol of life... What will we do with it now... what good word could it possibly speak to us now? How will it resurrect itself?
(SOMEONE ENTERS AND SILENTLY TIES THE TREE INTO THE SHAPE OF A CROSS)
Jesus: In the cross, I turned a sign of death and decay and betrayal into a sign of eternal hope and promise and new beginning. In the face of hatred and ugliness , this cross, once desolate and barren and forlorn stands for love that turned the world on its head... Love that brings wholeness and healing, love that speaks strongly for peace, love that cannot be contained in any building - not even in a sanctuary, and love that never stops, but blows with a spirit of newness and inspiring that never leaves anything untouched. I was not to be with you forever, but this story of love lives forever in the remembering and living of it. And that is how I will resurrect. Peace, Sally in Camelot
PS This Sunday will be our first "family communion". Any ideas about coordinating these two major happenings?
Date: 19 Apr 2000
Time: 13:43:14
Preacher Pat: You are right, the hour is drawing near. At my home church the traditon of the flowering cross tood for the newness of life that comes forth from a symbol that was meant for death and destruction alone. Something that was meant to bring pain was now bringing hope and beauty into the world. We constructed a cross about 6 feet high and covered it with chicken wire so that people could place their flowers in the holes and this coverd the cross. We also fixed a handle on the back that allowed it to be carried into the service. On Easter Sunday, people would bring their flowers and place them upon the cross before the service and during the first hymn, the cross was brought into the church with the choir processing in behind the cross and the minister came in last. This helped to make Easter real for me as a child and even as an adult. I hope that this will help you. elise in nc
Date: 19 Apr 2000
Time: 16:12:54
I am planning to write a sermon entitled "The Road to the Empty Tomb". It goes along with two other Holy Week sermons, "The Road to Jerusalem" (Palm Sunday) and "The Road to Calvary" (Good Friday). I focus on the three people who got to the empty tomb: Peter, the beloved disciple, and Mary. It is interesting that a small detail like Peter's slow running speed is included in the gospel. But this is counterbalanced by his boldness in entering the tomb. It is also interesting that the beloved "saw and believed". How many of us Christians have had that revelatory experience where we know that Christ is eternally alive and our Savior? But I think the story is really about Mary. It starts with her and finishes with her. She has been through all of the drama of Holy Week (e.g. at the foot of the cross), and now she can not find the body. She is beside herself. She mistakes Jesus for the gardener. But Jesus clears that up in the famous naming scene, "Mary!" To which she responds, "Teacher," which is sometimes translated, "Master!" Mary is not a high status person, but she is given the commission of telling the disciples that Christ is risen. There God goes again: Using the lowly and humble to proclaim his message of salvation. Join Mary, Peter, and the beloved on the road to the empty tomb and experience the Risen Lord, and take that message to a world in need of reconciliation.
Alex in Clyde, Oh
Date: 20 Apr 2000
Time: 17:55:17
Greetings to all on Holy Thursday:
I am a "first time poster" and an always grateful reader of this site! I am pleased to share a resource with Cathy in Queens, NYC who was looking for help with "images of stones" for her Easter sermon. Several years back I utilized a meditation by William Peterson as printed in a booklet edited by Henry Rust entitled "Celebrating Holy Week." I purchased it through Educational Ministries - a great resource. I would be happy to mail or fax a hard copy of the meditation or better yet info on Educational Ministries. Contact: ElaineWing@aol.com The meditation suggests that we (humankind) create our own stones... sedimentary rock of excuses that trickle down and form stone in stone in front of our own tomb; great conglomerate stones of past memories and expectations... stones of granite which are often self righteousness.... stones of great value that we work hard to accumulate and which forms barriers in our lives and the huge boulders of despair... Hopes this helps folks. I remember that my listeners were able to see their own stones and to answer God's call to roll the stone away! Happy Easter to all! Elaine in NJ
Date: 21 Apr 2000
Time: 00:44:14
4,20, 2000
I remember singing a song, "The Joy of the Lord is My Strength." There is so much joy on Easter, so much celebration, such a high. And then there is Easter evening, and Monday morning, and then the rest of the year. My second daughter, Dacia, on her second birthday had a huge party with balloons and all the trimmings. She invited lots of guests who came and brought piles of presents. After opening all the presents and eating the cake and ice cream, her guests went home and I took down the balloons, "She asked, "Where did the birthday go?" I ask, "Where does the Easter JOY go?" Where is the thrill, the zing, and the celebration the day after. Have we put to much emphasis on a single day? Like a runner in a long race, have we saved any energy for the kick needed at the end? Praise God that God has seen fit to renew us every day. Do we see fit to renew ourselves? Do we plug back in to the Holy Spirit's 220 outlet and let the Spirit recharge our batteries? For me, reading the Bible, sometimes by sharing with fellow Christians, and sometimes by witnessing to strangers some times recharges the batteries. But most often it is praise and worship that makes my spirit soar. Songs from Hillsongs of Sydney, Australia have especially blessed me lately. Darlene Z. has a grouping called "Simply Worship." In it our two songs that really bless me. One is entitled, "Jesus, What a Beautiful Name." The other song is, "Show Me Your Ways." The first verse of Show Me Your Ways goes "Show me your ways, that I might walk with you. Show me your ways that I might talk with you. The cry of my heart is to love you more, to live by the tough of your hand. Stronger each day, show me your ways." If we could show Jesus' ways to those we preach to so that they could walk stronger each day, o what blessed preachers we would be. If we could focus on Jesus as Savior and Lord, on his character, his words, his deliverance, his power, his obedience, his commands, and his presence - then wouldn't all the junk that seems to divide us as Christians melt away? Wouldn't we walk in that blessed unity of the faith more fully? If we could abandon all of the various theologies and simply have Jesus theology wouldn't we be better ministers? Wouldn't our flocks have a better chance to walk in the joy of Easter all year long? Oh precious Jesus, show me your ways!
Dale in KS
Date: 22 Apr 2000
Time: 02:05:52
Thanks Outback Aussie, I'd forgotten about Moira's page - it is excellent value. By the way, how's your rain this week?
TD in Cobar
Date: 22 Apr 2000
Time: 09:23:39
To TD in Cobar.
Glad to remind you. Rain here is heavy and consistent. Patrols are at a standstill. Maybe I'll have to take a couple of days off after Easter instead. I hear Cobar is the same.
We have a combined sunrise service on easter day with all 6 churches in town taking part. And then we have our own denominational communion service at 9.30. For the sunrise service, with all the rain around we are "faking" our own sunrise inside. As three women read a script about the three women at the empty tomb the sun will "rise" on the gold panel (we are the town built on gold mining) behind the communion table made of Territory rock with mining core lining the front of it. So it should be symbolic of a new sunrise over the town. We need this hope more this year than most with the mine closures and subsequent loss of people, jobs and incomes in the town. Perhaps people will see new hope as they are reminded again of the hope that was born/reborn on Easter Sunday. Good Friday' service about God identifying with us in our loss because He knows loss himself hit many raw nerves, and there were a number of positive responses from people who are really hurting right now. Now we go from loss to remembering and hope as we remember and celebrate Christ's resurrection. God never leaves us without hope. he walks with us through the dark and brings back until we can at least again see the light.
Outback Aussie
Date: 22 Apr 2000
Time: 09:25:00
To TD in Cobar.
Glad to remind you. Rain here is heavy and consistent. Patrols are at a standstill. Maybe I'll have to take a couple of days off after Easter instead. I hear Cobar is the same.
We have a combined sunrise service on easter day with all 6 churches in town taking part. And then we have our own denominational communion service at 9.30. For the sunrise service, with all the rain around we are "faking" our own sunrise inside. As three women read a script about the three women at the empty tomb the sun will "rise" on the gold panel (we are the town built on gold mining) behind the communion table made of Territory rock with mining core lining the front of it. So it should be symbolic of a new sunrise over the town. We need this hope more this year than most with the mine closures and subsequent loss of people, jobs and incomes in the town. Perhaps people will see new hope as they are reminded again of the hope that was born/reborn on Easter Sunday. Good Friday' service about God identifying with us in our loss because He knows loss himself hit many raw nerves, and there were a number of positive responses from people who are really hurting right now. Now we go from loss to remembering and hope as we remember and celebrate Christ's resurrection. God never leaves us without hope. he walks with us through the dark and brings back until we can at least again see the light.
Outback Aussie
Date: 22 Apr 2000
Time: 09:26:45
P.s. from Out back Aussie. To T.D. in Cobar. You may have already worked out Outback Aussie is LP in Tennant Creek.
Date: 22 Apr 2000
Time: 18:55:43
Have never preached on Easter before and am grateful for all of the comments.I was going to preach the Mark text, but have gone back to John because I can't get away from the following:
Jesus appears to Mary 1st. Not to Pilate. Not to his mother. Not to the high priest, etc. Mary has remained behind. But, so has Jesus. Maybe the others moved past something too past. I mean, Jesus is still there. He has risen,but he's still hanging around the tomb.
And, so is Mary. What if Mary's tears aren't actually being questioned or that she isn't being chided or corrected with the words, "Woman, why are you weeping.What if her weeping (which here means 'wailing and loud sobbing'), is actually being acknowledged and recognized by Christ with compassion, as being valid and necessary before she can 'go out and tell the rest of the story.'
What if, in order for her to take in the fulness of the resurrection, Mary (and we)need to take in the fullness of the cross, of the death, of the loss?
What got my attention was the breaking news this morning that Elian Gonzalez had been taken by force from the home of his relatives and reunited with his father.
It seems to me that this is not just about Elian. Passions are running way too deep. Unresolved passions from about 40 yrs ago.
This is also about Castro. About unresolved stuff from 40 yrs ago. Stuff that took place 34 years before Elian was born. But, it was never really handled, never realized in its fullness. Did we move forward too quickly?
Did it get passed to the the next generation? To little Elian? Elian, who lost his innocence. Who will pass it to his child unless the larger issues are dealt with.
Jesus knows this. About Mary. About Elian. About all of us. It seems to me that the Resurrection empowers us to deal with conflict, with unforgiveness, with loss... Jesus waits.
Am still processing.... Rev/PN
Date: 22 Apr 2000
Time: 18:55:54
Have never preached on Easter before and am grateful for all of the comments.I was going to preach the Mark text, but have gone back to John because I can't get away from the following:
Jesus appears to Mary 1st. Not to Pilate. Not to his mother. Not to the high priest, etc. Mary has remained behind. But, so has Jesus. Maybe the others moved past something too past. I mean, Jesus is still there. He has risen,but he's still hanging around the tomb.
And, so is Mary. What if Mary's tears aren't actually being questioned or that she isn't being chided or corrected with the words, "Woman, why are you weeping.What if her weeping (which here means 'wailing and loud sobbing'), is actually being acknowledged and recognized by Christ with compassion, as being valid and necessary before she can 'go out and tell the rest of the story.'
What if, in order for her to take in the fulness of the resurrection, Mary (and we)need to take in the fullness of the cross, of the death, of the loss?
What got my attention was the breaking news this morning that Elian Gonzalez had been taken by force from the home of his relatives and reunited with his father.
It seems to me that this is not just about Elian. Passions are running way too deep. Unresolved passions from about 40 yrs ago.
This is also about Castro. About unresolved stuff from 40 yrs ago. Stuff that took place 34 years before Elian was born. But, it was never really handled, never realized in its fullness. Did we move forward too quickly?
Did it get passed to the the next generation? To little Elian? Elian, who lost his innocence. Who will pass it to his child unless the larger issues are dealt with.
Jesus knows this. About Mary. About Elian. About all of us. It seems to me that the Resurrection empowers us to deal with conflict, with unforgiveness, with loss... Jesus waits.
Am still processing.... Rev/PN
Date: 22 Apr 2000
Time: 19:18:23
From Rev/PN
Sorry that a 2nd copy of my process stuff was sent. Won't happen again.
Date: 23 Apr 2000
Time: 02:08:42
Rev P/N
Don't worry about your messages "second coming". You shared good and helpful stuff. Interesting that in 6 weels when Jesus ascends, he tells the disciples to waite in the city until they receive power.
I have been learning and preaching about intimacy with God. I tend to hurry past the waiting Christ much too often.
Thanks for your input.
Pastor Bill in Northern New York
1999 Discussion:
Paula, Where's your story?
I'm trying to come up with an idea for our Sunrise Service. It usually includes drama of some kind so I'm thinking of starting out very somber, as if it's a funeral service for Jesus. But after a few minutes Mary Magdalene (or maybe an angel) will run up and tell the good news. What do you think? Any ideas along this line, or different approaches you'd suggest? Yes, I know its late! Rebecca in MD
Rebecca, the Abingdon Press book "The Man from Nazareth" by Diane Huie Balay has a readers' theater drama on this subject. (It begins just the way you describe the scene.) It's available from Cokesbury. AL in OR
I noticed how many times in John's version of resurrection morning he uses the verb see/saw/looked, etc. I am going to call my sermon "Living With Easter Eyes." John was really into the imagery of the blind vs the seeing as a way of talking about faith and vision. I have a long way to go until sermon time though.... KKinOK
Dust off an old copy of Rowan Williams, Resurrection - powerful stuff about Mary and the Gardener. When Jesus calls her by name - he gives her back herself and she is able to recognize him. Alleluia, Christ is risen.
tom in ga
Did anyone ever notice how the description of the empty tomb inside -- reflects the way the Ark of the Covenant may have looked? (The top of the Ark was the "Mercy Seat" where two angels or cherubs were positioned at either end.) Do you suppose John was intentional about the similarity? Could this be why "the other disciple" saw and believed? Just musing. KKinOK
Does anyone have ideas on how Mary's experience relates to ours? I find it much easier to identify with the beloved disciple who believes on the basis of the empty tomb than with Mary who actually sees the Lord and hears him call her name. What are the parallels in our experience to Mary's now that Christ is not physically present?
I've posted a Readers' Theater piece for John's Resurrection account under Sermon Review. Anne in Providence
I too am struck by the power of Christ "naming" Mary. The scene is very moving and powerful, and reminds us that we carry the name of Christ when we call ourselves Christians. Names identify us to each other and to ourselves, naming a child in Baptism identifies him as a member of the Body of Christ...not sure yet where this is going....
Janet in NY
AL in OR, thanks for the response. I don't have time to get the book, but will look for it later for future reference. Actually, I had to buckle down and write a funeral service opening and a mini-drama on my own, which felt good. when I was in seminary, I was so anxious to get out and begin creating original, inspiring worship. Sure enough, all I seem to have time to do is borrow ideas from everybody else. Reality had to set in, but it did feel good to create something of my own for a change.
I must also share that for my sermon Sun., I'm using an idea from Sweet's journal "Homeletics" Ap-June 1996 favorably comparing the Easter Bunny with Santa. I've wanted to use this ever since, and now's the time. Happy Easter! Rebecca in MD
Naming ...
to be known ... to be named ....
Mary's life is defined by our Lord's death; she is grief striken, unable to rise out of her own tomb of mourning. When she is 'recognized' she rises, experiences a resurrection, and moves from saddness to awe, and to joy. This is also what happens in Baptism as one is no longer named by the circumstances of his or her life, but by Christ who has risen from the dead.
tom in ga
Resurrections …
He wasn't a bad person you understand, at least within the framework of goodness and badness as it's typically defined. He was just going through the world, forging a life in a manner which seemed to suit his personality, neither bad nor good, much like the boy next door, or the man down the street, much like Mr. Thompson the local grocer, or Bill the neighborhood cop. No, he wasn't a bad man.
He was a member of a flight crew, flying on one of the Air Force's most sophisticated communications aircraft. They were based in Honolulu and on occasion would fly across the Pacific stopping at Clark Air Base in the Philippines, "a good place to stop," he thought. After all, there was good food and much shopping to be done. And then, there was always the odd nightclub with it's loud music and cheap beer. "Yes, a good stop indeed."
Like so many of the lesser developed nations, anywhere there is an enclave of wealthy westerners, the impoverished children gather to beg. And just outside of the main gate at Clark Air Base, one could always find scores of begging children mixed into the scene of loud street vendors and the noisy scream of music cascading from the multitude of bars. Chaos. And to the young airman and his friends -- a scene which represented the promise of laughter, revelry, and the merriment of debaucherous diversion.
As they made their way through the mass of humanity the young airman suddenly found his way blocked by a small bare-footed girl. She could not have been more than six or seven years old. She stood in his path, her face streaked with the grime from the streets, her dirty dress draped about her small undernourished frame. She held out her hand and in broken English she said, "Please, GI, please."
Now, it wasn't that the airman was necessarily an uncaring person, but after all, there were scores of other children surrounding them, and he knew that if he gave a few coins to this girl, then all the other children would demand it as well. He watched as his friends continued on to their waiting taxi and he started to push by the ragged small street urchin. Suddenly, with strength which belied her size and condition, she grabbed his pants leg and tenaciously again demanded, "Please, GI, please."
The young man struggled to remove himself from the young girl's clutches but in the ensuing fracas, somehow she managed to wrap her leg around his leg. And there he was, stumbling about from side to side with this small dirty creature hanging on to his leg, stumbling about in the street to the greatly increasing amusement of his friends, the street vendors, and any other persons who happened to venture by. Louder and louder the laughter became and he began to grow more and more irritated with the rag-a-muffin that clung to him. Finally, in an exasperated and greatly humiliated gesture, he placed his hands are her shoulders and shoved her onto the dirty street. And that is where he left her, like some discarded piece of filth. He went on and joined his friends, refusing to return, refusing even to look back.
The young airman didn't think about the incident for a long while, until one day, without welcome and without warning, this person came to him, came to him out of the fog of past promises, came to him from a faith that he had forgotten, came to him and said, "I was hungry, and you didn't feed me. I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink. I was naked and you did not even toss me your rags, sick and you did not care for me, a stranger and you refused me. I was a prisoner, and you never once visited me."
And suddenly, in a flash of recognition, the young man knew to whom he was speaking. He stammered, "When Lord, when!? When did I ever see you hungry, or thirsty, or naked. When did I ever see you a stranger or sick. And certainly, Lord, certainly, when did I ever see you in prison!? Jesus looked at him and said, "Right outside of Clark Air Base, that's where you saw me. For when you failed to do unto this little one, you failed to do unto me." With sadness in his eyes, the Christ who suffers, turned his back - just as the airman had once done - and too, went on his way. And the young airman, who was neither very good nor very bad, watched him leave, a small bare-footed girl, in a tattered dirty dress.
The years go by and the seasons change and in a country-seat town in eastern North Carolina, far removed from the steaming hills of the Philippines, there was a small Methodist church with 12 members. They were shared solid working middle class roots. They were smaller and perhaps older than most congregations, but all in all, they looked much like any other small church. They had made their own way and it had not been easy. Now, almost all of the members were retired and their children had grown and moved away - hearing the call of other opportunities, hearing the call of life from beyond boundaries which must be broken.
Services were quiet, looking more like a funeral than not. There was little singing for there was no one left to play the old, battered piano. Any who ventured into this place would have agreed, it was a dying congregation in a dying little rundown church. Maybe, it was already dead. Yet, they still clung to the hope that maybe God might respond to their prayers, that God might somehow again give them life. They clung to the hope, even as remote as it seemed.
One summer, a new pastor was appointed to the rundown little church, appointed right out of seminary. She had not been in the Methodist system long enough to be properly credentialed and as the church didn't give much in the way to denominational causes, they had little sway with the powers that be. So, here they were, a young Lutheran pastor who was not even yet part of the system, and this dying congregation - stuck with one another.
That summer a local community ministry was sponsoring a Vacation Bible School led by a group from a large suburban church in Raleigh. The ministry effort was being directed toward several high risk, high crime neighborhoods near the church. The hope was to provide an opportunity for children to escape the environment in which they existed, to escape … at least for awhile. As the small church was empty during the week, they had allowed the VBS to be held in their building. The church members had shared with the new pastor that they deeply desired the laughter of children to once again be heard within their walls. So, the young pastor had a wonderful idea, a wonderful and crazy idea - "Why not bring some of the children to church!" She extended the invitation, and to her amazement, that Sunday several children did come.
Attendance at worship grew from 8 or 12 to almost 25. The pastor was excited. Certainly the congregation would be pleased! Certainly they would rejoice with her, rejoice for these broken children, rejoice for this unbelievable opportunity.
Yet, there was little rejoicing. They had said they wanted children in church. But these children were not like them. These children were brown and black and some of them even spoke a different language. These children were unkempt and unruly. These kids would not sit quietly and would not sing sweetly during the hymns. Instead, sometimes they would run about and shout and fight. Sometimes they would rustle paper and drop books and shoot spit-wads. These kids came without their parents and these kids would offer little to the dwindling coffers of the church. Without a doubt, these kids were not their kids. There was little rejoicing.
Yet somehow, somehow small miracles do occur and these children kept returning. Time after time, Sunday after Sunday, month after month, they returned. They seemed not to understand that some in the congregation did not want them there. They seemed not to understand that the life they brought was not the life that had been. They seemed not to understand that they were a most disruptive group. Yet somehow, they continued to come. By and by, they began to behave a bit better. By and by, some of them grew in faith and maturity. And in small miracles, sometimes even a mother would accompany one of the children or a father could be found sitting on the back row.
Today, life in that broken down little church can still be chaotic. Every so often a child will still act out or you can still hear the resounding sound of a hymnal hitting the hard tile floor. Some members have left and life in this place is still a struggle. But other members have stayed, stayed in this church where order may never be the rule of the day, stayed because the hope of the past has become the promise of the future, stayed because they are needed. And in small miracles, there have even been a few new members who have joined this small strange community, including a young mission intern who can even play the old battered piano. Life in this place is not perfect, if perfect means showing no imperfection. But that's ok, because that's what real life looks like, that's what real life brings.
This Sunday, sitting on a pew filled with squirming children, you will find a gray bearded, balding man who is neither good nor bad. He will be sharing his hymnal with a child who has no father. He will caress the head of a child that rarely receives the touch of love. He will sit there and watch these beautiful, dirty, rambunctious children. He will sit and thank God for a wonderful wife who gives so much of herself to these children. He will thank God for a young courageous pastor who opened herself to the promise of Christ. He will sit and thank God for a church that is willing to love children who no one else wanted.
And in moments of quiet reflection, in moments of silent prayer, he will contemplate this Resurrection Day. He will sit and remember a dusty street just aside of Clark Air Base. He … I … I will sit and remember a small brown-eyed girl in a tattered, dirty dress. I will sit and I will thank God that resurrections really do occur.
Shalom my friends,
Nail-Bender in NC
Thank you, Joel, for lending me your eyes and for sharing some of your words.
Progression of faith that might be seen in this text:
1. We don't believe - Mary, vs. 1-15 2. We check it out but we don't understand - Peter 3. We understand some, but go back home - John 4. We stick around and meet Jesus personally - Mary in vs. 16-18.
Jesus has to call us by name so that the stone can be rolled from off of our hearts! We are using a song from Rich Mullins "The Jesus Record" album, called, simply, "Jesus." In part: "Jesus, write me into your story, whisper it to me, adn let me know I'm yours." Matt in Indy
One quick note... to tom in ga...
Thanks for your constant presence on the DPS.
Rick in Va
Jesus said to her, "Woman why are you wepping? Whom are you looking for?".
The woman was sitting in a corner crying when the telephone rang.It was the Latino woman she just met a few days ago and who had given her fodd and diapers for her newborn twins. Fighting her tearas she tried to answer that she was fine, but her voice betrayed her. "Why are you crying?" the woman asked her through the phone. She in a whisper she tried to explained her friend has just hit her very badly. She was in pain and scared, soflty she said she could not talked too much becaused he was still there in the house. She had already called the police who came right away and took him away. She came back to the phone, able to speak more freely she explained how scared she was, how painful her wounds, how sad she felt. The woman on the other line listened carefully and offer words of hope and encouragement. She connect her immediatly with a shelter for battered women so she could be safe. Then she prayed for her and her children. The woman stop crying. In the words of hope and a caring voice she had found hope and the grace of God. She had found who she was looking for without knowing it.
Latina
Thank you Nail Bender and Latina, and thanks be to God for you. SS
Dear Friends,
It seems to me Mary's experience is often our own. How many experiences in our own lives - the death of a loved one, the death of a marriage, the death of a cherished relationship, the death of some hope or dream - have begun in sadness and grief, hopelessness and helplessness, then to turn to panic as we frantically search for something we know should be right where we left it - right here - but it's not, or it turns to fear because we have assumed the worst instead of the best?
And how many times have we been confronted with what at first appeared to be a stupid question? A question like: Why are you weeping? or Why are you afraid? or Where is your faith? A stupid question - only because we did not yet see the miracle God had already begun on our behalf and for our benefit - in ways we had not yet seen or understood - but one that he was about to reveal to us.
Easter was really a remarkable turn of events for Mary - and eventually the rest of Jesus' disciples that day - and ultimately also for us. Easter is about the gift of life that comes through the "ears" of faith - as we hear Jesus call us by name - call us by name right in the midst of the fears, the questions, the confusions, the doubts and despair. And our sadness is turned into joy, our despair is replaced by hope, our tears of grief are transformed into tears of joy. Thanks be to God!
Any thoughts? Responses?
Grace and peace, Jerry in MN
Where's a good opening illustration?
Paula
There seems to be a contrast of how we name people. Mary was given her life when she was named by the Risen Christ. We however, often take life away as we name others in our world. Recently we have had racist stickers platered around our community - we talk about "Serbs" in a way that defines an entire people - just as we do "gays", etc. The power of the resurrection is that out of death, comes life, meaning and identity. Just as Mary was named, so are persons of color and racists, Serbs and Albanians, gays and straights; and all are invited to believe in that which gives life by coming to know that Christ is Lord. Can Easter mean this year that not only are we to come and name Christ as Lord, we must also name each other as brother and sister in Christ? Rick in Chelsea
Thanks to all participants in DPS, especially Nail-bender and tom in ga...PaideiaSCO in LA
KK in OK,
Great title and idea!
John does tend to concern himself with seeing throughout his gospel and his letters; he also is sure to mention the fact that he not only saw Jesus with is own eyes but that he also touched Jesus with his hands. John was battling teachers that were denying the authenticity of Christ's humanity. John also is the only one to point out that Jesus actually ate with them after his resurrection. This would destroy the credibility of those who claimed that Jesus was only an apparition.
The place where Jesus calls Mary by name and she "miraculously" recognizes He is not the gardener, but her Master, reminds me of the scripture that says "His sheep...know His voice." (John 10:3,4) She doesn't recognize His voice right off but when He calls her name it is so familiar that she cannot help but have her eyes opened and recognize that it is her beloved Master speaking to her. Maybe, she doesn't first recognize His voice because of the utter absurdity of the notion, but when He calls her name it is absurd no longer. (John 10:3 "He calls his own sheep by name...") Praise Jesus!
DSPnNC; formerly ScottP in NC
Nailbender in NC,
Your story was excellent and well written!!!! You should think about publishing something. Your a very good writer.
Only question I have is: Are you the young Lutheran/Methodist preacher?
DSPnNC;formerly ScottP in NC
P.S. I tried all day yesterday to submit this comment and the one before it, but kept get Web busy message.
Anyone care to comment of what "the other disciple" believed when he stuck his head into the empty tomb?
Certainly not that Jesus was risen; the next verse makes that clear enough! What was there to be believed at that point? Simply that Jesus' body was missing?
Thanks.
Rick in Canada, eh?
DSP in NC,
Thank you. Your words of affirmation are very much welcomed. To your question: No, I am not the young pastor, but she is truly one of my heroes. It was I, who pushed the little girl down.
Shalom my friend, Nail-Bender in NC