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LINKS TO THE SERMONS |
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| “The Proclamation” Something amazing is happening today, an incredible work of organization, coordination and synchronicity. The last time I remember an event that comes close to this is the time when I was in seminary and a disc-jockey in Cincinnati got everybody in southern Ohio to flush their toilet at the same time. I cut class so I could participate. We broke a water main in downtown Cincinnati – the DJ was arrested – it just shows what you can accomplish if you work together. But today’s event dwarfs that effort by miles. Today, this day, every preacher in America will be preaching on the same subject. Everybody knows that organizing a bunch of preachers is like herding cats, but today we are all in lock step. I don’t know how many churches there are in this country; there are about 35,000 Methodist churches alone not to mention the Presbyterians and Lutherans, Baptists and Catholics and a hundred other brands and independents. But today we have all agreed to talk about the same subject and read the same biblical text – the resurrection of Christ – an amazing organizational feat; and, get this, we do it every year. Since I’ve been an ordained minister for 39 years, that means that I have preached at least that many sermons about this subject. And since more of you come to church on Easter than any other Sunday, that means that you have heard more sermons on this subject than any other. Suddenly I feel like Elizabeth Taylor’s ninth husband; I know what to do but I don’t know how to make it interesting. Perhaps that is the problem; the news is so astounding that surrounding it with verbiage tends only to take away from the wonder of it; maybe news that profound doesn’t need explanation or interpretation, definition or defense. Perhaps the best any of us preachers can do on this day where in we have all agreed to speak on the same subject, is to simply make the proclamation and then bask in the wonder of it. Some women went to the tomb on Sunday morning and found the stone rolled away and an angel sitting on it, and the angel said, “I know you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here. He is risen!” What is there for any preacher to say except, “Wow!” “Christ is risen!” “Christ is risen indeed!” So, since I have a few more minutes of sermon time left, I thought I would tell you a story about one of my most memorable Easters. It was 1992, the first year after the collapse of the Soviet Union. I was in Moscow for the first free Easter in that country in seventy years. I instructed the taxi driver to take me to the biggest Orthodox Cathedral in Moscow. There were banners across all the main city streets but being in Russian, I couldn’t tell what they said. When I arrived the church was already packed – standing room only. Of course that’s what you do in Eastern Orthodox churches, you stand. Pews were invented by lazy Westerners. To be fair, it was an evolution. You’ve seen in some of Europe’s cathedrals the rows of what appear to be chair backs around the wall of the chancel, with arms sticking out. Those were so the old priests could have a place to lean. Pews were invented later, designed to be as uncomfortable as possible. If you must sit in the presence of the King at least you should be as uncomfortable as possible. Padded pews are a bit of an oxymoron, making something that was designed to be uncomfortable, more comfortable. Modern churches have surrendered to the comfort demands of the worshiping society and gone to theater seats. I expect the next phase will be seats with individual warming units and maybe vibrators – foot massagers. In Moscow we stood on a cold hard stone floor for an hour and forty-five minutes while priests with tall black hats and long gray beards chanted the liturgy antiphonally with the a capella choir. To add to the discomfort was the cultural more that it was impolite to have your hands above your waste and certainly not in your pockets. You have to leave them hanging at you sides as the little babushka would remind me with an elbow to the rib-cage when ever I had a lapse. I came mentally prepared for the bells and smells that characterize Orthodox worship – the incense always gives me a headache. The churches are always very ornate with icons everywhere and there is a place to buy candles in the back which you can then place in front of your favorite icon. But on this Easter Sunday the cathedral was so full it was impossible to move. The people in the back would hand their candle to the person in front of them with instructions as to which icon was the preferred destination. Then the person behind me taped my shoulder, handed me a candle and whispered something in Russian. I passed it to the person in front of me and gave her that helpless look we mono-linguals are so schooled at. She nodded as if she understood perfectly. Somehow I am convinced that the candle made it to exactly the right icon. Even though the service was in Russian, since all liturgical services follow the same order, I could tell where we were in it. From time to time the priest would call out “Kristos vos cress!” And, the congregation would respond, “Kristos vos cress!” and I figured out what that meant, “Kristos vos cress!” “Christ is risen!” That’s what was written on the banners across all the Moscow streets. And when the opportunity came along, I responded with my brothers and sisters in this foreign land and this strange tongue, “Kristos vos cress! Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Since it was a beautiful spring day in Moscow, I decided to walk back to the hotel. I calculated from the cab ride that it couldn’t be more than four or five miles, and since the hotel was right on the river, all I had to do was stay close to the river and I wouldn’t get lost. About a half hour into my stroll I rounded a corner and was stopped in my tracks by the realization of where I was. There was St Isaac’s Cathedral; this was Red Square. There was the Kremlin Wall and Lenin’s Tomb resplendent in black marble. And, to my amazement, there was no one there. I had been there ten years earlier when Communism was still in full bloom and the line to get into Lenin’s tomb zigzagged across Red Square and disappeared behind the government buildings on the far side. I wasn’t going to stand in line in sub-zero Moscow weather for hours just to catch a glimpse of old waxy dead Vladimir. But, this time there was no line – a hand full of tourists and some guards in their green uniforms so I went in. There he was, waxy and dead, just like I expected – rather small looking in his Plexiglas sarcophagus, which I thought looked very much like the one the seven dwarfs put Snow White in. When I came up out of the tomb I saw something I hadn’t noticed before; on the big office building just across the way was a banner. It hung down for at least four or five stories of the building. It was a giant painting of the resurrected Christ and the words, “Kristos vos cress!” It was stunning. Right there on Red Square in the heart of godless Communism, a banner that couldn’t be hung anywhere in the US accept on a church – and right adjacent to Lenin’s tomb. The juxtaposition was powerful. What’s the difference between Lenin’s tomb and Christ’s tomb? Lenin’s is still occupied, Christ is risen. Lenin’s tomb had a handful of visitors. The Cathedral was packed with people eager to hear the good news proclaimed. So, I bent down and picked up a tiny rock, a chip broken off one of the coble stones that pave Red Square – a reminder of the stone that was rolled away, even in Moscow. Wasn’t as big as the one the angel sat on but just as profound. This is the part of the story that makes it sound like one of those Reader’s Digest preacher stories, but I promise it’s true; couldn’t have been better if it had been scripted and choreographed. Just then the church bells began to ring, all over Moscow. The first time the bells had rung on Easter in seventy years – with me standing at the entrance of Lenin’s tomb looking at a five story poster of the resurrected Christ and clutching my little rock. Christ is risen indeed! This is the rock. I keep it in a box on my desk with a piece of the Berlin Wall, a reminder of another kind of rock rolled away by faith. And I remember that the proclamation we all make on Easter has implications beyond the wildest imaginations of any of us. One thing is for sure; it is a proclamation that has changed the world and will continue to do so. Christ is risen, indeed! |
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