Firstfruit

I've said before that my family has few traditions. Ice cream for dessert, pizza&movie nights once or twice a week, watching the Steelers, and making semi-annual trips to Ohio (now more frequent) are about the sum of the list. Some that might be on there have been lost in recent years, including one of my least favorites: shopping for Easter dresses.

To be honest, I suspect that it was Grandma's idea - my most vivid memories of said shopping are of the same shoe store year after year. I never had a talent for choosing shoes - still don't - so I wasted time picking out the highest heels and most outrageous colors for her consideration. Her gasp of horror was gratifying, as was Grandpa's quiet smile when I put on a chastised face and went to find more reasonable pumps. Some years Mommy made the dress, but as we grew up we spent more time in real stores; some years were real winners, and some make me just a bit queasy to remember. Bright and early and almost late to church every Easter Sunday the three of us would stand out on the driveway and have our pictures taken.

cheese?

As a child, somehow these early spring events were soundtracked with the voice of Judy Garland, singing about the Easter Parade, which was romantic but always seemed a bit outdated. For a few years between childhood and whatever you call my present stage of life, I questioned the legitimacy of the whole thing - why do we have to dress up to go to church? Doesn't God say that he takes us as we are, that there is nothing we can do to earn his love and forgiveness? If so, why put on the frills, gloves and make-up? (yes, there were sometimes gloves involved) If I had been thinking more exegetically, I might have asked whether we thought that the Marys were dressed in their Sabbath best to approach the tomb - wouldn't they have been in mourning, distraught, and Jesus appeared to them anyway?

It boils down to the fact that I like jeans better than a skirt, and I'd rather not bother with my hair. However, clothes aren't the point. Confusion is the point. Isn't it amazing how easily we get stuck on a detour thinking, like a child, that this thing or that thing is the real thing? When I write I tend to imagine that my audience is a lot like me, so I apologize if you've never gotten caught up in the clothes and expectations and forgotten the simple truth... that we dress up because this is a day of celebration! The other 51 Sundays in the year are days of remembrance of this day, which is a day of remembrance of that day - that day when a man who had been beaten, humiliated and murdered was raised from the dead.

Did you catch that? Raised from the dead.

Resurrected.

Brought back to life.

(BTW, Pastor Eric was great this morning. Objection: "Science says that resurrection is impossible." Answer: "Uh... that's the point!")

In church this morning I considered finding the perfect Old Testament passage to talk about the promises that were fulfilled on the first Easter Sunday; you know, the one that was specifically looking forward to this morning. Silly rabbit, they all do! Jesus' life, death and resurrection were the fulfillment of the Old Testament, the realization of the hope of nations, and the embodiment of the hope that we have.

Last night I talked about the pain that Jesus endured and how he graciously made it possible for men to justify the execution that was necessary for their redemption. Today, I am celebrating what he saved mankind for (and I hope that you are too!). Jesus' crucifixion was the judicial payment for sin; his resurrection was victory over death, but not only over spiritual death. In I Corinthians 15, Paul says

If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men. But Christ has indeed been raised from the dead, the firstfruits of those who have fallen asleep. For since death came through a man, the resurrection of the dead comes also through a man. For as in Adam all die, so in Christ all will be made alive. But each in his own turn: Christ, the firstfruits; then, when he comes, those who belong to him. (v. 19-23, NIV)

Firstfruits. Jesus came back in the flesh. Jesus ate with his disciples. Thomas touched his hands and his side. And Paul tells us that Jesus' resurrection is the promise of what we will also receive at the "last trumpet" (v.52).

Jesus' resurrection was the end of waiting for the Jews and God-fearers, the revelation of things obscured by years and prophecy. And, even better, his resurrection is the beginning of true hope. Not an indistinct, weak longing that someday things will be better, like Mr. Micawber's "something shall turn up!" No, our hope is substantiated, sealed with the demonstration of God's power to reverse the greatest human experience of brokenness - death.

Someday death will be gone. The redeemed will live eternally in a renewed heavens and earth, enjoying real life in resurrected bodies, doing real things: running, cooking and eating, playing softball, building, carving, reading and writing, singing and being silent. Those of us who have people to miss - that is, everyone who has ever lived - will have the joy of seeing our loved ones again. This is the day that we remember God's promise...

Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.

I did not see a temple in the city, because the Lord God Almighty and the Lamb are its temple. The city does not need the sun or the moon to shine on it, for the glory of God gives it light, and the Lamb is its lamp. The nations will walk by its light, and the kings of the earth will bring their splendor into it. On no day will its gates ever be shut, for there will be no night there. The glory and honor of the nations will be brought into it. Nothing impure will ever enter it, nor will anyone who does what is shameful or deceitful, but only those whose names are written in the Lamb's book of life. (Revelation 21:1-4, 22-27, NIV)

the lamb has run away

There are many ways to think of Jesus' final week. You could consider who he chooses to teach, the significance of the particular parables he uses, the transition in the gospel of John from Jesus teaching the crowd to teaching his disciples, and etc. But here, with me, think about this - it is a story of gradual betrayal. When Jesus rode into the city on Palm Sunday, who was on his side? Everyone! They welcomed him like a king. By the middle of the week, the religious leaders were disgruntled to say the least; at the last supper, Judas had already betrayed him (that is, "everyone" was now down to eleven, and counting). The eleven abandoned him in the garden, Peter denied him in the courtyard, and finally, on Friday morning, who is still with him? Well, maybe Pilate, but only for curiosity's sake, not for belief's. Jesus stood before the same crowd that loved him just five days earlier and heard them scream out, "Crucify him!"

But think about this picture, will you? The Truth Project talks about it as "The king of the universe put on trial by sinners." It is ridiculous. It is also a beautiful example of Jesus' grace.

Jerusalem at the beginning of that week was exactly as it should be - celebration of the Messiah's arrival. But the Messiah had not completed his work, and there was only one way for him to do so. I call it "systematic alienation": instead of healing, he curses the fig tree and turns all the rich people out of the temple; he teaches in what we call "fighting parables," announcing that judgment is coming; he frustrates the Pharisees' attempts to trap him, then does the same to the Sadducees. By the time he comes to the trial, he has righteously* insulted nearly every Jew in the city, and having the populus upset did nothing to endear him to the Romans either.

There is nothing understandable or forgivable in the betrayal and crucifixion of Christ, just as there is nothing understandable or forgivable in any sin: it was absolutely wrong. And yet, it absolutely had to be done... and Jesus made that possible. He forced no man into any action, but he made it possible for men to justify their sins. If he had not done so - if the king of the universe, the only innocent man to ever live, had not bowed his knee and "asked for it," there would have been no salvation.

So that's something to think on, isn't it? My church has a beautiful tradition during Holy Week that we call Maundy Thursday. Wikipedia tells me that many denominations recognize this day by many different names, but I don't know much of the history of the term. Wikipedia also tells me that "maundy" may come from the Latin mandatum, as in "Jesus said, A new mandate I give to you..."It may also come from the Latin mendicare, which means "to beg." Food for thought.

Grace Church's Maundy Thursday service looks like this: it is a remembrance of our Lord's last hours before the cross, as told by the gospel writers. We don't rescript it - in this one night, we hear from Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, beginning with the Last Supper and going chronologically through that terrible night of betrayal, trial, false trial, retrial, condemnation, and eventually the humiliation and execution. Hearing the Bible read aloud would be enough, but we go a step further - to symbolize the progressive isolation of Jesus' last hours, the lights are gradually put out, and candles for the twelve disciples and the two thieves extinguished, until the only light in the sanctuary is from a single white candle.

At the very end of the service (possibly my favorite moment of the year) Mr. Schaub sings "Watch the Lamb." It brings tears every time. This year, though, I got stuck on that one line: "the lamb has run away." In context with the song, it's cute - the father turns with his sons to the Lamb on the cross, indicating that the wooly variety is now obsolete as a sacrifice.  Perhaps there is more that we could say, though, about our lives as lambs: as dumb sheep who follow when it's easy but get lost quickly in the crowd, who run away from our responsibilities and who rationalize and justify the most horrible things daily... and whose efforts are made obsolete by the God-man who makes it possible for us to do those things in order to be our savior.

These are dark night thoughts, but I look forward to Easter morning and all of the promises that it brings.

*see what I did there?