The Gift of Hope

Easter Day Year A; Matthew 28:1-10; St. Paul’s, Smithfield 4/16/2017

Jim Melnyk “The Gift of Hope”

The story is told about "a famous monastery had fallen on hard times. Formerly its many buildings were filled with young monks, but now it was all but deserted. People no longer came there to be nourished by prayer, and only a handful of old monks shuffled through the cloisters serving God with heavy hearts.

On the edge of the monastery woods, an old rabbi had built a little hut. He would come there, from time to time, to fast and pray. No one ever spoke with him, but whenever he appeared, the word would be passed from monk to monk: 'The rabbi walks in the woods.' And, for as long as he was there, the monks would feel sustained by his prayerful presence.

One day the abbot decided to visit the rabbi and open his heavy heart to him.So, after the morning Eucharist, he set out through the woods. As he approached the hut, the abbot saw the rabbi standing in the doorway, as if he had been awaiting the abbot's arrival, his arms outstretched in welcome. They embraced like long-lost brothers. The two entered the hut where, in the middle of the room, stood a wooden table with the scriptures open on it.

They sat for a moment in the presence of the Book. Then the rabbi began to weep. The abbot could not contain himself. He covered his face with his hands and began to cry too. For the first time in his life, he cried his heart out. The two men sat there like lost children, filling the hut with their shared pain and tears. But soon the tears ceased and all was quiet.  The rabbi lifted his head. 'You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts,' he said. 'You have come to ask a teaching of me. I will give you a teaching, but you can repeat it only once. After that, no one must ever say it aloud again.'

The rabbi looked straight at the abbot and said, 'The Messiah is among you.' For a while, all was silent. The rabbi said, 'Now you must go.' The abbot left without a word and without ever looking back. The next morning, the abbot called his monks together in the chapter room. He told them he had received a teaching from the 'rabbi who walks in the woods' and that the teaching was never again to be spoken aloud. Then he looked at the group of assembled brothers and said, 'The rabbi said that one of us is the Messiah.'

The monks were startled by this saying. 'What could it mean?' they asked themselves. 'Is Brother John the Messiah? Or Brother Matthew or Brother Thomas? Am I the Messiah? What could all this mean?' They were all deeply puzzled by the rabbi's teaching, but no one ever mentioned it again.

As time went by, the monks began to treat one another with a new and very special reverence. A gentle, warm-hearted, concern began to grow among them which was hard to describe but easy to notice. They began to live with each other as people who had finally found the special something they were looking for, yet they prayed the Scriptures together as people who were always looking for something else.

When visitors came to the monastery they found themselves deeply moved by the life of these monks. Word spread, and before long people were coming from far and wide to be nourished by the prayer life of the monks and to experience the loving reverence in which they held each other. Soon, other young men were asking, once again, to become a part of the community, and the community grew and prospered.

In those days, the rabbi no longer walked in the woods. His hut had fallen into ruins. Yet somehow, the old monks who had taken his teaching to heart still felt sustained by his wise and prayerful presence” (The Rabbi’s Gift, William R. White, Stories For the Journey: A Sourcebook for Christian Storytellers).

The season of Lent, just passed, often serves to remind us how many times we serve God with heavy hearts – hard, petrified, lifeless, hearts.  In fact, sometimes our lives feel more like nightmares.  Jesus comes among us proclaiming himself to be Living Water because he understands how thirsty we can be.  He comes among us proclaiming himself to be Living Bread because he knows how much we hunger.  He comes as the Light of the World because we so often choose darkness.  As we said on the last Sunday in Lent, “Resurrection comes to despairing, dried-up people. The only hope we have is in a God who can breathe life into our dried-up lives. Beyond our despairing no and our optimistic yes comes the bone-rattling, air-stirring Spirit of new life” (Nancy Hastings Sehested).

Easter is a celebration of new hope – of new life – the dream of God jarring us awake from the nightmare of this world, and giving us the courage, the strength, and the desire to partner with God in this life-giving dream.  The rabbi’s gift to the monastery was the gift of hope – the Messiah is among you!  He lives!  He lives in you!  The rabbi’s gift is reminiscent of the Midrash I shared on the Fourth Sunday in Lent – the realization that before every human being there goes a legion of angels shouting out, “Make way!  Make way for the Image of God!”

Two Sundays ago I asked the questions, “What can it mean for us to live as if resurrection is real – unbound and unafraid?  How does that change the way we seek to live together in community – within the full wonder and diversity of the human race?  What are we willing to risk of our own lives knowing that the air-stirring Spirit of God is alive in us, and has the final say over death?”

Easter does not negate the reality of the cross.  It does not negate the reality of death, or fear, or sorrow, in this world or in our lives.  But with Easter God steps in and proclaims, be not afraid!  Death is not final.  The grave has no victory over us. 

“Go!” the risen Christ says to Mary Magdalene and to the other Mary.  “Go and tell the others what you have seen, and what you have heard, and send them forth to Galilee – there I will meet them.  Go!”  Proclaim the Good News that God is alive in this world!  Be not afraid!

It is into this Easter reality that we bring Abigail Lynn Eggleston to the waters of Holy Baptism.  She comes to the font bearing the image of the Divine as surely as every other human being who has ever walked this earth.  She comes to these sacred waters as a child of God and as our sister in Christ.  We will make promises on her behalf to help her live her life knowing the resurrection to be real – and continue to pray that she grows up with an inquiring and discerning heart – with the courage to will and to persevere as a follower of Jesus – and the spirit to know and to love God and God’s people.

Easter proclaims the now of resurrection life for Abby, for each of us, and for all the people of God.  Freedom, now!  Living water, now!  A new heart, now!  New life, now!  For all people – for all people – for all time!  Easter proclaims that the God who created us in love, and for love, still continues to woo us with words and deeds of love.  God in Christ suffers with us through love.  Dies with us in love. And raises us with Christ in love. 

Former Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold once wrote, “Jesus’ resurrection plays havoc with the known, the safe, the familiar, the predictable, and opens the way for what is real.  And what is real is the unbounded and death-defying love of God which overcomes all estrangement and division and overleaps the chasm between life and death.”

My friends, the Messiah is among us!  The risen Christ is among us and the Air-Stirring Spirit of the living God lives within us.  Alleluia!  Christ is risen!  The Lord is risen indeed.  Alleluia!