Easter Sunday
April 21, 2019
Isaiah 65:17-25; Psalm 118:14-24; Luke 24:1-12
The original work of fiction exploring the idea of an
ideal society was the novel Utopia
published by Thomas More in 1516. This book is also the first recorded instance
of the word, ‘utopia.’ It has its roots in Greek words that mean “no place” and
“good place.”[1] The
opposite, dystopia, then means a “not good place.” Dystopian fiction dates back
to the French Revolution of 1789 and began as a response to utopian fiction.
Many classics of the 20th century are considered to be utopian or
dystopian fiction: Brave New World, 1984, A Clockwork Orange, Animal
Farm, Fahrenheit 451, We. These all describe societies in
which what was thought to be best went horribly wrong. The 1990s saw the first
young adult dystopian novel, The Giver
by Lois Lowry, and it saw the rise of apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic movies,
scenarios that can cause a dystopia, like Independence
Day, Armageddon, The Matrix, even
Jurassic Park, as a theme park turns
deadly.
Since
then, there have been a plethora of books, TV shows, and movies about dystopian
worlds: The Hunger Games, The Walking Dead, Falling Skies, Battlestar Galactica, the Divergent series, The Maze
Runner series, and so many more. The genre has really taken off. They’re
based on worst-case scenarios: zombies, alien invasion, plague, nuclear bomb, a
complete depletion of the earth’s resources, and then what is life like after
that happens? Often the protagonists are teenagers with no memory of what life
was like before; this dystopian world is the only one they’ve ever known, and
they struggle to make it better. They don’t want to make it necessarily utopian;
they’re just working to make it just and fair with a more equal sharing of
power and resources. There is no going back to how it was before. It’s
impossible. They can’t “look for the living among the dead,” as the angels
accuse the women of doing in our Easter Gospel reading this morning.[2]
Instead, in this post-Apocalytic world, they have to find a new way forward. The
worst has happened. You survived it. Or maybe you were born after it. Now, how
do you live in this new world?
In
our psalm this morning we read the declaration, “I shall not die but I shall
live.” It implies living is a choice. You can decide to live, or you can decide
to wither away. It’s an interesting idea, because we had no choice over our
conception or the world we were born into. But
we can choose to live. It’s not a utopian or dystopian movie, but a romantic
comedy that came out around the same time is My Big Fat Greek Wedding. The main character, Toula, is worried
about upsetting her father by marrying someone who’s not Greek, and her mother
tells her, “I gave you life so that you could live it.” It’s similar to what
Jesus says in the Gospel of John, “The thief comes only to steal, kill, and
destroy. I came so that you could have life, so that you could live life to the
fullest.”[3]
Whether you see the world around you as utopian, dystopian, or somewhere in
between, it’s still up to you to choose to live abundantly, to declare, “I
shall not die but I shall live.”
How?
First, don’t look for the living among the dead. That is a fruitless search
that will get you nowhere. Change can be hard. I imagine being born into a
dystopian world would be a whole lot easier than living through the transition.
Yet we are here, living in a time of transition. Life changes all around us, as
crops are planted, grown, and harvested. Children grow. We change and grow,
too. It’s interesting when meeting again someone we knew long ago to see how
each of us has changed, and to allow room for that change. Who we are now is
not who we were 20 years ago. Our loved ones are not who they were 20 years
ago, either. We go looking for the living among the dead when we expect others
to stay the same, when we refuse to allow them to change. We go looking for the
living among the dead when we hold tight to former visions of ourselves or our
church, as if we might suddenly become again who we once were. I’ve had
rheumatoid arthritis for 13 years now, and I can get nostalgic thinking about
how great my health was at age 25. But it’s never helpful for life now, much
less for the future. My body is not the same. That’s who I was, and what I
could do then. But you know what? I can do a lot of other things now that I couldn’t do then. My pre-RA life is over, and that’s why Isaiah
says, “The former things will not be remembered, nor will they come to mind.”[4]
I am creating a new thing. It’s a “challenge to stop hanging on to the dead and
to move into new life.”[5]
The
antidote, when you find yourself looking for the living among the dead, is
remembrance. The angels tell the women at the tomb, “Remember how he told you, while he was still with you.”[6]
In fact, the angels’ question about looking for the living among the dead directly
echoes Jesus’ words. In Luke 20, some teachers of the law, the Sadducees, who
don’t believe in the resurrection, try to trick Jesus with a question about
Mosaic law: a man’s brother dies and leaves behind a wife. The man is obligated
to marry her. But say there are seven brothers and the first one dies, too; in
fact, each brother marries her and dies. So, at this resurrection which we
don’t believe in, whose wife is she? Jesus replies that marriage happens in
this age, but not in the age to come. And, in the age to come, people will no
longer die. They are God’s children, and God “is not the God of the dead, but
of the living, for to [God] all are alive.”[7]
God sent Jesus so that everyone who believes in him might not die but have life. Because God is God of the living,
and you will find life among the living, not among what is dead. Remember what
Jesus has told you.
Another
way to choose to live is what the protagonists in young adult dystopian
literature do: work towards transforming the world into a more just and
peaceful place. Consider the vision of the promised kingdom we read in Isaiah. “Never
again will there be an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does
not live out his years… No longer will [you] build houses and others live in
them, or plant and others eat… [You] will not labor in vain, nor will [you]
bear children doomed to misfortune; for [you] will be a people blessed by the
Lord, [you] and [your] descendants with them.”[8]
There will be longevity. There will be work that is rewarding and rewarded.
There will be blessing and joy and delight. Furthermore, relationships will
change. “The wolf and the lamb will feed together, and the lion will eat straw
like the ox, and dust will be the serpent’s food. They will neither harm nor
destroy on all [God’s] holy mountain.”[9]
Wolves no longer eat lambs, they eat with the lambs. The lion turns into an
herbivore. There is no more predator and prey. Instead there’s harmony and
cooperation. And while you may feel sorry for the snakes because they get dust,
think of them a little more metaphorically. The snake also represents original
sin, back to the Garden of Eden when the snake tricked Eve into eating from the
tree God said not to. So, sin becomes dust and is remembered no more as it
blows away in the breeze. This is the kingdom of heaven. This is the new
creation.
This
is what Easter is all about. Easter is considered to be the 8th day
of creation, when everything is made new. It’s not a brand new creation, it’s
the restoration of the old one where cracks are filled in, chips are painted
over, and somehow, in the restoration, instead of looking identical to the
original, it looks better, brighter, sharper, wholer. This is what is possible
thanks to Christ’s victory over death. “Resurrection is God’s power to create a
new reality for all creation.”[10]
Children will not be doomed
to misfortune. We will not labor in vain. Things will be put right. And we
don’t just sit back and wait for that to happen. No. This “promise of a new
creation [is] God once again calling all [of us] to practice compassion,
justice, and loving-kindness and to commit ourselves once again to a way of
life that yields peace and security for all people.”[11]
We watch for those glimpses of heaven on earth and we join God in the work of
bringing heaven on earth. We work towards ending dystopias. We learn a lot
about ourselves and grow when we go through horrible times. Yet a friend
pointed out to me that what one person considers a dystopia may be someone
else’s reality. Some people live under dictators or with famine or on land
that’s been on the receiving end of a scorched earth policy. General Sherman
burned Atlanta in 1864; yet look at that city now. It has grown back and is flourishing.
It took time and a lot of work and rebuilding.
In dystopian worlds, it’s often survival of the fittest,
or at least the one who can think quickest on their feet. They are stories of
choices and consequences and they don’t always have a happy ending.[12]
In contrast, God says there will be no harm or destruction in the promised
kingdom. There will be no more weeping or crying, and no more death, because
God is God of the living. A utopian society tends to be seen as impossible and
unattainable ideal. Yet God’s kingdom is possible and real and we are invited
to work to make it happen here on earth. The women were not expecting
resurrection. They thought they were looking for the dead among the dead. Too
often we don’t expect resurrection, either. And either way, we find ourselves
among the dead and things past. But Jesus came so that we might have life, and
have it abundantly, both now and in the age to come. And it does not take away
from my abundant life to help you live your abundant life. We are here
together. No predators and prey. Instead, as the Servant Song says, “We are
pilgrims on the journey. We are travellers on the road. We are here to help
each other/ Walk the mile and bear the load.”[13]
There are so many little things we can do to show the signs of God’s new
creation: a cup of water, a phone call, a hug. These all help bring new life to
someone who’s been looking for the living among the dead. But Jesus is not
there. What you’re looking for is not there. The new life, better life, the
peace you’re seeking, the acceptance you’re seeking, the love you’re seeking –
you’re not going to find it among things past. That isn’t going to help and it’s
not healthy. Instead we turn to Jesus, who is among the living. Jesus is not
dead, but is risen. That’s the Easter surprise. Go looking for the living among
the living. Go looking for things that give life. Claim the new abundant life that
Christ offers you. Show signs of new life and love to all those around you.
[2]
Luke 24:5
[3]
John 10:10, CEB
[4]
Isaiah 65:17b
[5] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, p.
351
[6]
Luke 24:6
[7]
Luke 20:38
[8]
Isaiah 65:20, 22, 23
[9]
Isaiah 65:25
[10] Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2, p.
354
[11] Preaching God’s Transforming Justice,
Year C, p. 218
[13] The Faith We Sing 2222
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