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A Sermon Preached at St. Christopher's Episcopal Church, Oak Park, IL
at the Great Vigil of Easter, March 22, 2008
by the Rev. Paris Coffey

"This is the night, when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave." - From the Exsultet, The Book of Common Prayer, page 287

This past Tuesday, when the clergy of the Diocese met with our new bishop to renew our ordination vows and receive the Bishop's Easter message, I was reminded just how much I missed the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd. For those of you who don't know, the Catechesis is a Montessori-based Christian formation program for children that invites their own theological insights rather than inundate them with the sometimes questionable insights of adults. Bishop Lee talked about the Catechesis' Easter presentation, but I was reminded of another one that I did with our church's three-to-five-year-olds years ago. Some of you may remember this story since it later found its way into one of my sermons. I hope, though, that in light of tonight's readings you will find it bears repeating, since you're going to hear it anyway.

It begins with the Catechesis presentation of the Lord's Supper, told using handmade clay figures. Sitting on the floor with these figures, the children and I prepared a tiny table around which clay disciples gathered. They shared a meal, talked and listened to Jesus, but the story ended with supper rather crucifixion, focusing on God's love instead of death. Nevertheless, the children all knew how the story turned out, having heard it in church. And so when I asked, as I always did at the end of a presentation, if anyone had anything they wanted to say to Jesus, I expected some responses. What I didn't expect, though, was the passion of one five-year-old, biracial boy who stood up and said, "Free the people, Jesus." He then proceeded to tell the rest of us about slavery in America and the part Jesus had played in the slaves' deliverance.

It was a powerful testimony, one that initially left me speechless. Later, though, I complemented the boy's father on what a good job he had done explaining to his son the connection of the African-American faith to the power of the Civil Rights Movement. His father looked puzzled, admitting that he'd told Brayden about Civil Rights but not its connection to faith. "What is the connection exactly?" he asked, and I suggested he talk to his son. After all, Brayden had summed up in a single prayer the core of our salvation history. In four words he had grasped the power and nature of God.

Indeed, Brayden Massie grasped the power and nature of the God we meet tonight in The Great Vigil of Easter - the God who delivers Israel from Egypt, who in Jesus Christ overcomes sin and death, who through the waters of baptism and renewal of vows promises new life - in short, the God we meet in the refrain of tonight's Exsultet who says, "This the night!" "This is the night," chants the cantor, "when God brought our fathers and mothers, the children of Israel out of bondage in Egypt . . . This is the night, when all who believe in Christ are delivered from the gloom of sin . . . This is the night, when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave. This is the night!"

The words of the Exsultet are present tense, not past, for resurrection is NOT just about something that happened 2000+ years ago, but about something happening now! It's about more than the bursting forth of a dead man from the tomb; it's about God overpowering sin and death. Five-year-old Brayden knew this when he connected the Civil Rights Movement to the story of Jesus Christ - knew that death and resurrection was about an encounter with the Living God. The question for us, though, is do we know it, and if so, where in our lives do we encounter the Risen Christ - encounter God's deliverance from the bondage of sin and death?

It's not an easy question to answer nor a simple encounter to have in a world where sin and death run rampant; where racism, for example, still exists whether we want to talk about it or not; where war still rages and peace seems far off; where people ignore the desperate needs of one another, absorbed in their own narrow worlds; and where millions die daily, often prematurely from violence, AIDS, unsafe drinking water, and perhaps saddest of all, by their own hand. Did you know that more people commit suicide in New York City each year than are murdered?

Clearly it takes faith to believe in resurrection. and yet there are also people and places all over the world where the Risen Christ/the Living God can be encountered; people like Doctors Without Borders who help free others from disease; like engineers designing products that may be less than profitable for them but will free some of the world's poorest from contaminated water, famine and ignorance; or ordinary people like us whose compassion, forgiveness and ministry of presence can help deliver others from loneliness and despair.

All it takes is a little faith - faith like that of the two Marys in tonight's Gospel who take off for Galilee after hearing the angel say to them, "Jesus is not here; for he has been raised from the dead, and is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.'" And they go. They go on the chance that the angel's words are true, and along the way they meet the Risen Christ. In the midst of grief, on the road to Galilee, in one of the common, everyday places of their lives they meet the Risen Lord, for in truth these are the kind of places we encounter resurrection - in daily moments of joy or sorrow, illness or health, loss, despair, even death . . . wherever life and freedom are needed the Living God is there. Indeed, God is present with us right here/right now amid the fallout of human sin, in the midst of life's complexities, among human beings capable of great evil and great good. The Risen Christ is with us and so we pray, "Free the people, Jesus, for THIS is the night!"