Sermon

St. Philip's Episcopal Church, Durham, NC

4/15/06 - Easter Vigil

The Rev. Sarah Ball-Damberg

Rejoice now, heavenly hosts and choirs of angels! Rejoice and sing now, all the round earth! Rejoice and be glad now, Mother Church!

So began our call to worship tonight, the night of our fullest celebration of the gospel news that Christ has died and Christ is risen! Tonight is an especially active night - we travel from darkness to light, from slavery to freedom, from sorrow to joy, from fear to faith, from death to life.

This is the night when we hear the story of salvation in its entirety, some of us - like the youngest among us - maybe for the very first time. We hear this story during the rest of the year too, every time we gather for Eucharist. But tonight is special because we're caught up in the full sweep of salvation history, from the deliverance from slavery in Egypt to the two Marys holding on to the feet of the risen Christ.

Everything we do tonight draws us into the story of God's saving grace and invites us to make it our own. Tonight is a feast for the senses - the sight of candlelight in the dark, the smell of incense, the sound of song and reading (and restless children), the feel of hot flame and candlewax, the taste of bread and wine. Every part of us is drawn into the story of God's salvation.

Which is exactly the point. The good news isn't just that Jesus died and was resurrected, but that he died and was resurrected for our sake. We are joined to him in his death and resurrection. And that means we're not here to memorialize an important event in the past, we're here to celebrate its present reality. It's not like a birthday or July 4^th or any other day when we remember some historic occasion. What we're celebrating tonight is God's saving act - which happened and which is still happening. We're celebrating God's ongoing gift to us -- that we join in Jesus' death and resurrection through the sacraments of Baptism and Eucharist.

It's a peculiar thing, isn't it, that the Good News begins in death? When we're rehearsing who's supposed to stand where during Baptism, there's a part of me that always wants to lean over to parents bringing their children to be baptized or to adults presenting themselves and ask, "Did you hear that part about death?"

Because that's what we say - "We thank you, Father, for the water of Baptism. In it we are buried with Christ in his death." St. Paul beat me to it, naturally. He asks, "Don't you know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?"

If that's where we stayed, if we stayed at Good Friday, I would tap people about to be baptized on the shoulder and ask if maybe they wouldn't like to reconsider. But as I said, tonight we're on the move. We don't stop at death. In fact, you may have noticed that our prayers for those about to be baptized is one long list of verbs - we ask God to deliver, open, fill, keep, teach, send, and bring. All of that movement carries us to one central truth -- these children of God are baptized into Jesus' death so that, sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ's own forever, they may share in his resurrection. We stake our lives -- and the lives of our children -- on the promise that baptism is the movement from death to life.

Tonight is action-packed. This is the night when God brought the children of Israel out of bondage in Egypt and led them through the Red Sea on dry land. This is the night when all who believe in Christ are delivered from sin and restored to grace and holiness of life. This is the night when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell and rose victorious from the grave. This is the night when earth and heaven are joined and we are reconciled to God.

And you know what? We've just seen what we proclaim. We just watched heaven and earth be joined when we witnessed Sophia, Winslow, Penelope, and Janet be reconciled to God in the waters of Holy Baptism. And again, in a few moments when we come forward as the renewed and newly-expanded household of God for the first Easter Eucharist, we'll be coming forward to the place where heaven and earth are joined.

This is the night when the distance between our broken world and God's kingdom disappears. This is the night when darkness turns into light and death is transformed into life. This is the night God takes the wooden cross on which we crucified His Son and makes it a gateway through which pure joy streams into the world.

And now, like the two Marys, we are to go and tell. God claims every bit of ourselves and every bit of our lives. We are part of the story of God's saving grace - something we carry with us when we walk out the doors of this church and into the rest of our lives. Every part of our life is now part of the Easter story, whether we're at work, at school, at home, or anywhere else.

Tonight we're on the move. Caught up in the movement of the Holy Spirit, sure of our place in the story of God's salvation, we are sent to feed a world hungry for the Good Word. Transformed from bystanders to participants, from mourners to celebrants, from sinners to forgiven children of God, we are sent out into the world to share our joy. We are sent to go and tell the Gospel news - "Alleluia! Christ is risen!" And let the people say, "He is risen indeed. Alleluia, alleluia!"

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