Isaiah 25:6-9
This is an Easter like no other in our lives, after a year like no other. But the story we share today is the same as ever.
Last year on Easter morning we read the same story from the Gospel of John. That early in the morning while it was still dark, Mary went to the tomb to care for the body of a loved one, Jesus. I am sure Mary had already been shedding a lot of tears, between Friday and this early morning walk to the tomb. Possibly, she felt like she was all cried out. She had that kind of headache that you get behind your eyes when you have been crying a lot. And now she was just thinking about the task ahead of her –
Which she thought was fairly predictable. But when she arrived, she found something she could not have imagined. It must have looked to her like the scene of a crime. The tomb has been robbed, Mary thought. Injury piled on top of injury, not even the body of her loved one was there. And Mary began to cry again, for all that had been lost.
We have been there. Just a few days ago we were in this sanctuary remembering how Jesus was arrested. How he was beaten and mocked and condemned to death by crucifixion. The sky turned dark that Friday afternoon when he died. Strangely, we call it Good Friday.
We have known some Good Fridays, too; days when darkness and death seemed to overshadow everything. Days when hope seemed lost. This past Friday, St. Joseph Catholic Church in Washington DC was just finishing their service. Two men lay dying outside on the United States Capitol grounds. Worshipers were told to stay put while the crime scene was being locked down. Good Friday is a common state of the world in which we live.
But our faith reminds us again and again that God gives us reason to hope. And to celebrate.
The text we read today from Isaiah gives hope to a nation that felt all was completely lost. Beaten and destroyed by their enemy, Israel stood on shaky ground looking at the ruins of their former lives. And into this desolate landscape God spoke words of hope – the strongest possible hope.
The Lord will make a feast of rich food and well-aged wines; he will destroy the shroud of death that is cast over all peoples. Yes, the Lord will swallow up death forever.
Every tear shall be wiped away from every face. There will be no more weeping, but only laughing and dancing for joy. And it will be said on that day: this is our God. We trusted in him. We waited for him, and he showed up.
He showed up on that early dark morning when Mary stood weeping. And he shows up for each one of us when we need him.
And so in this world where there is much heartache and death, where we shed many tears, we still have days when we feast and rejoice and celebrate because we know we have a God who shows up.
Our theme for this Easter season is “Daring to dance again,” because as Easter people we know the light shines. We know Christ has triumphed over death, and we look toward a day when his victory is complete. We await the glorious feast on that day, with all Israel, because we have been given a foretaste of the feast to come.
So while we have our sorrows, we also have hope. While we have dark days, still the glimmers of joy have not disappeared. We laugh in spite of our sour moods. Because this, too, is what it is to be human: to love and to laugh and to create. And because of all this, even while we are not out of the darkness yet, we dare to dance again – if not in our bodies, then in our spirits.
You may be wondering what’s up with all the umbrellas. They might make you think of the rhyme, April showers bring May flowers – which is fitting. But more than that, the umbrellas are here to remind us of the shelter, the protection we find in life’s storms. Because even in the most threatening storms, we are covered by God’s love through Jesus Christ. We are covered by hope and the promise of life in its fullest sense. And with this cover, we may dance and sing in the rain, just like Gene Kelly. The rain cannot wipe away our joy. The dark clouds cannot obliterate our hope. During this past year we have seen this truth in many ways.
Last year, in the throes of our pandemic, an artist named Elizabeth Turk got a call from a retirement community in California. They wanted to talk to her about designing some umbrellas they could sell in their gift shop. While discussing the project with them, the talk turned to the residents of this community, and how they were impacted by the pandemic. Their strength and resilience inspired her to create a work of art that she called “Look Up.”
She used umbrellas. She filmed the residents moving around the grounds to music – some with their walkers, others in wheelchairs – all holding up umbrellas. Then she took the film footage and created this amazing kaleidoscopic work of art. You can see the trailer here.
In an interview, she said she experienced this project as grace.
Grace – what a wonderful word.
In the midst of a broken and fearful world,
In the midst of death,
In the midst of our despair, we dare to dance – dances of hope; dances of justice; dances of love.
Christ is risen. He is risen indeed.
