Happy (Human) Easter

"Happy (Human) Easter"

Luke 24:1-12

Happy Easter!

Brothers and sisters, we are gathered here today to once again celebrate the greatest good news, that Jesus Christ rose from the grave.

It sounds impossible.

But nothing's impossible for God.

That's how great thou art.

God did God's part – the DOING.

Now it's up to us to do OUR part – the BELIEVING.

Can we mere mortals BELIEVE what happened?

Because Easter isn't just for you, and Easter isn't just for me.

Easter is for ALL people, everywhere.

Because we're ALL children of God.

What happens to our humanity if we DO believe Easter – TOGETHER?

–

In Luke 24, it says:

[Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James and the other women with them] went to the tomb…. They found the stone rolled away…, but they they did not find the body. …

It says: They were perplexed…. 

[Not BELIEVING. Not HAPPY. Not singing HALLELUIA!] 

THEY WERE PERPLEXED.

…and they told all this to the eleven disciples and to all the rest. …But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and THEY DID NOT BELIEVE THEM. 

Trinity Presbyterian Church is a church full of people who believe. 

Not just in words, but in your actions. 

In your attitude, in your spirit – y'all believe.

I believe I'm blessed, I believe I'm SO lucky to be here.

Trinity's a congregation full of smart, talented, faithful people. 

Good-looking people. 

So good-looking, I struggle to keep up. 

So I booked an appointment at SuperCuts for the annual Clergy Pre-Easter haircut and beard trim. 

You can learn a lot at a barbershop. 

Or a hair salon. 

Barbaristas – and the people who hang out in their shops are like a magnet for all the juicy news you need to know. 

Is it the truth? 

Maybe. 

Like Fox, they report, you decide.

My barber asked me if I'd been watching the news. 

I said I try not to. 

He said, "Oh, you've gotta see the story. The story about the Florida Man –" 

The Florida Man. Here we go –

"The story about the Florida Man who was (quote) "abducted by a pod of dolphins and forced to build them an underwater city."

I said, "No way." 

He said, "Way." 

He said, "Look it up. It's on the Internet."

And that is true. 

Some people claim it's a hoax. An idle tale. 

And that would be mentally healthy.

These days, so much of what we read, see, and hear generates DIS-believe. Skepticism. 

Reasonable doubt.

Kind of like what Jesus's DISCIPLES thought about Easter, the first time they heard of it. 

Healthy doubt isn't a sin.

It can keep you from looking foolish. 

A good bowl-full of doubt is part of a nutritious breakfast.

But doubt, eaten alone, is a cold, lonely meal.

That's why, on Easter, both the disciples – and we – come together.

Human beings – sharing this meal of faith – together.

On Easter, we feast on the sacred story of our Resurrection faith.

Easter – and church – and faith as a whole – hits our hunger when it's shared.

Sharing verifies the truth.

Person-to-person, face-to-face, one confused and confusing friend to another.

Sharing is how we get the news AND we test it out.

We work best when we're working TOGETHER.

That's the way God made us human beings.

That's how we are.

So, Happy Easter – 

Happy (Shared) Easter – 

Happy (Human) Easter.

Good news – like a good meal – is always better when it's shared.

—

On the first day of the week – Easter Sunday morning, Mary, Mary, and Joanna burst through the door and told everyone what they had seen. 

And the Jesus-trained, righteously skeptical, loin-girded men said, 

"No way."

Luke says: "But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them."

An idle tale.

Now scroll down to today.

We've got their biblical level of doubt multiplied by a gazillion.

We're pros at this.

In our world of today's truth which turns into tomorrow's untruth, 

in this science-fiction-y time of super-dee-duper computers spitting out a flood of AI-generated slop: 

Idle tales beautifully illustrated to look so real –

fake pictures, fake videos, fake songs. 

Fake emails that look like they're from your preacher – 

Saying he's been kidnapped by dolphins demanding Apple Gift Cards – 

because that's what those devious sea-mammals do.

We are rightly suspicious – as were the disciples – 

that whatever we're hearing, from whatever source – 

We're rightly suspicious that it's nothing more than just another idle tale. 

From the first morning – 

the Easter story has sounded – 

impossible. 

Like another internet hoax.

Something meant to get us doubting, get us accusing, get us questioning even the people closest to us.

"Mary, I know you're his mother, but come on." 

The women who found the empty tomb -

COULD HAVE - COULD HAVE -

Kept it to themselves. 

Their own private treasure.

But that's not what they did.

That's not the way God works.

The women who found the empty tomb went – directly –

went – personally – 

went to the other disciples. 

Live, face-to-face, and in-person.

Easter is a happy holiday. 

But more, it's a HUMAN holiday, where – 

even if we kinda doubt it –

Even if we don't understand it all – 

we still get dressed up, 

we still get together, 

To SHARE the human news – that we're still here,

And so is Jesus.

God is NOT buried in a hole in the ground with a rock on top. 

Jesus is alive. 

And so are we. 

That's our shared HUMAN truth. 

–

I love that sometimes the internet is our friend.

I love that we can livestream our services to people who can't be here in person. 

If you're watching now from home, or from a hospital, or West Virginia (Hi, Mom!) or anywhere else on the grid, 

we're glad you're here. 

Happy Easter. 

We can feel you're here – in spirit.

Faith is multiplied, and doubt is divided, when we share it together.

A common HUMAN experience.

Two weeks ago, when Kristen was here, we went to see Project Hail Mary. 

We give it four thumbs up.

It's rare that a movie makes you want to stand up and clap.

But what made it even better was that the theater was sold out – completely full. 

There's something special about sitting shoulder to shoulder with that many people. 

Sharing a moment. 

If you've been to an AMC movie theater, this is preached.

Because the show always starts with a sermon.

Starring the Right Reverend Nicole Kidman.

She walks down the aisle and imparts:

We come to laugh, to cry, to care.

Because we need that, all of us,

that indescribable feeling we get…

And we go somewhere we've never been before;

not just entertained, but somehow reborn.

Together.

And I always think: Is she describing a movie? 

Or church? 

Good news: 

Real church is even better than the movie. 

For one, the seats here are free. 

Better because at a movie, or a coffee shop, or a sporting event, you might say "Hey" to a person sitting by you, but you don't talk.

Not really.

But in church, you can share your heart.

At church, Jean and I and the choir might be up front, but you're the stars. 

You're the actors. 

You're the workers. 

That's what "worship" really means – "Work-ship." 

You're the ones doing the lifting – 

the work of connecting, 

the good, joyful work of doing the handshakes, the hugs, the real, live human connection. 

You're not here to just WATCH, you're here to CONNECT. 

You're here to connect to each other, even from a distance.

You're here to connect to God. 

And God is always better when shared – in person.

–

I have a theory. 

My theory is that church is one of the last bastions of authentic, true, real-life human contact. 

I think in this AI-generated world, church should promote itself as gloriously low-tech. 

The place where you turn off the phone, when you stop Googling dolphin kidnap videos (and I know you thought about it). 

Church is a place for people to have real-life connection 

to each other 

and to God, 

to be reborn… together.

–

A couple of weeks ago, Trinity had its annual Rummage Sale. 

And it raised a lot of money. 

But even with that, the best part of the Rummage Sale wasn't the Sale. 

The best part was the RUMMAGING. 

Rummaging together, working together.

Being together –

Sharing together – 

the laughter, the meals, the quiet talks in the corner with friends. 

We met people we wouldn't normally meet.

People got to buy cool stuff they wouldn't normally get.

It was a gloriously happy HUMAN experience.

Those shared experiences are the best.

Because that's where we dig up Jesus.

—

And in the Bible, 

even though it definitely sounded too good to be true, 

Mary, Mary, and Joanna went, and told their story of good news, great news. 

Face to face, person to person, human being to human being – 

Told the truth – 

to real people, who became reborn – 

Renewed life, reborn with Jesus –

humans telling, 

humans listening, 

humans sharing the truth of REAL, GOOD news 

for everybody.

–

If you're looking for a church home, I invite you to join Trinity. 

Talk to Jean. 

Talk to me. 

Come up to us and say, 

Or DM us and say, "I want to join this church." 

It's that simple. 

That's just how it works.

The beauty of any church is that it's 100% amateur.

"Amateur" literally means, someone who loves.

Loves carpentry, loves fishing.

Loves those questioning people hiding in the back. 

Loves casseroles.

Loves singing, loud, proud, and next to someone who sings even better.

Loves being quiet. In a holy place.

Church is bunch of amateurs, doing the best we can to believe even the most unbelievable thing that's ever been.

–

Easter is a happy message. 

The best.

But more than happy.

Because the disciples weren't happy.

They were grieving.

They were "perplexed."

The good news is that Jesus rises to any occasion.

I imagine Mary, Mary, and Joanna were happy, but I also guess they were pretty scared, too. 

Because a resurrected Savior doesn't happen every day.

But it can.

It happened on that first Easter morning. 

And they went, they ran, and shared their joys and their fears with a bunch of skeptical guys, cut from the same cloth.

And then the news spread. 

From one person. 

To another. 

To another. 

From one human being who felt the heavenly truth of the Risen Lord – 

one real, live person to another. 

Which is – after all – how we got to all be here today.

I hope you have a very Happy, very Human, very real Easter. 

I hope everybody does. 

Together.

[eos]

2025-03-29 Mt 21 01-11 (Palm Sunday) Save Us Now

2025-03-29 Mt 21 01-11 (Palm Sunday) Save Us Now




Thank you to the Mignerey's for the palms all over the church.
Thanks also to our worship committee for all the floral arrangements both today and Easter.


Please be reminded. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT.
Next Sunday
We'll have two Easter services.
8am in the parking lot. 10:30am here in the sanctuary.


And also, AND THIS IS MAYBE IMPORTANTER:
please be reminded that starting the first Sunday AFTER Easter, we're going to worship in the Gym.
That's because starting the day after Easter,
we're remodeling the CHOIR LOFT up here.
We're going to do an archeological dig.
We'll unearth the OLD organ, lift it out of the pit,
And move it to the side.
Then, we'll do what some people said say is impossible:
We'll take the choir.
We'll take the far left and and we'll take the far right
And join them together in harmony.
A musical example to our nation.
They'll no longer have to reach across the aisle.
There will be no aisle.
Sopranos, Altos, Tenors, and Basses
REUNITED, and it'll feel so good.
It'll sound so good, too.
Polling data says 43% better.
If the choir can do it, maybe Congress can, too.
Finally, we'll make things great again.


Now, you probably wouldn't have thought Choir Loft renovations could be a political statement.
Not every preacher could make that connection.
It's my spiritual gift.
As Steve Spurrier always said,
"It ain't braggin' if it's true."
I'll bet I'm the only preacher quoting St. Stephen this morning.
And I'm just an Interim.
Imagine what your real preacher is gonna say.
A good preacher, a REAL preacher isn't afraid to bring touchy subjects like politics and college football to a sermon.
Jesus wasn't.
He probably didn't talk football.
But then, he never met Nick Saban.
Face it: The man's a god.
But Jesus did bring politics to faith – all the time.
And it was one of the reasons the Roman Government had him crucified.
So, preachers be warned.


We modern Christians do our best to water down the politics of the Bible.
We turn the hardest parts of the Bible into children's stories.
We do it with Noah's Ark.
God gets tired of humans killing each other so God just wipes 'em all out in an apocalyptic, global flood.
Yet, we paint animals and rainbows in our babies' nurseries.
We do the same thing with Palm Sunday.
We turn it into a children's day.
We have the kids sing "Hosanna" like it means, "Hi Jesus! Welcome to town!"
But what Hosanna really means is far, far more dangerous.


Back in Bible Times –
You line the streets with palm-waving pedestrians calling a donkey-riding preacher a King, a Lord, a Savior – the authorities will notice.
Because the people who keep the peace with the point-end of military spears don't want anyone to think about challenging their power.
But that's what the people of Jerusalem did.
This trouble-making Rabbi Jesus drops like a soft detonation and suddenly, the commonfolk, the Jews, are one inch from insurrection.
They start laying their cloaks on the ground like you do for a Caesar, calling him names like "Lord" - and "Son of God" - names legally trademarked for Roman Caesar – and we've got trouble with a capital T, right here in River City.
People call out dangerous slogans, dangerous hopes, like, "Save us!" when that's the government's job.
And they don't stop there.
They add on that immediate word, that most demanding of word, they say, "Hosanna!"
Which means, not just "Save us!" But "Save us now!"
You put that NOW on it, and the men with weapons get nervous.
"What did you Israelites say?
"Save us… NOW?"
Hosanna, Now?
Uh-oh. Better get on the horn and sound the alarm.
This out-of-towner from Nowhere Nazareth on his rented donkey just might unite the right and the left in a religio-political uprising that won't end well for Jerusalem's peasant citizens.
"Y'all say you want Jesus to save you NOW?"
Be careful what you wish for.


Palm Sunday IS a political statement.
And, yes, Jesus will bring saving.
But maybe not the kind you're expecting
From a traveling preacher.


Hosanna!
Save us now? Really?
Yes, Lord.
Save us now.
Save us now – from the Romans.
Save us now – from the religious elite.
Save us now – save us now –
From ourselves.
Right now?
Or maybe next Sunday.
NOW is a dangerous word.


—


I love Palm Sunday.
Always have.
Since my own childhood.
It's the one Sunday in Presbyterianland when kids can be kids.


Grown-ups can be kids, too.
Waving our palm branches from our designated seats.
Like in a football stadium, when everyone's shaking pom-pons, and yelling sacred words, like, "Roll Tide!"
Or doing that Gator Chomp thing.
Some choose to ring handbells, er, cowbells.
(Danny's actually FROM Mississippi, so be warned.)
Everybody turns those bottles of "tap water" into wine or some other spiritual substance.
The sweet-natured crowds of a hundred thousand bring a devilishly competitive attitude.
But it's all in good, clean fun.
Right? Right?
We don't really mean it when we say to "Kill" the refs.
They'll soon be replaced by robots, anyway.
Like in baseball.
You get a bunch of people wearing the same colors, chanting ridiculous slogans, like, "Go Vols!" – spooky things can happen.
I've seen it with my own eyeballs.


But, hey.
We're Presbyterians.
We're decent.
And orderly.
We sub out out celebrations to the children.
They're too innocent to hurt anyone.
We give them Palm branches.
Palm branches are like the Nerf guns of parade paraphernalia.
Way less dangerous than Mardi Gras beads.


Kinda like the Bible.
A man wearing sandals, riding on a borrowed donkey.
Seriously?
I mean, really?
Talk about soft.
When you compare that to how a Caesar, a Pontius Pilate, real king, a ruler, a man with real power –
rides into town on an armor-plated white stallion, surrounded by military guards, with trumpet fanfare and roaring crowds –
It's almost like this preacher from small-town Nazareth is… making fun?
I mean, really, Israelites.
How's this scruffy man going to "Save us now?"
This week's version of a people's savior that's you just know – is going to get cancelled before the week is over?
"Save us now?"
Right.


–


When I was a boy, when we were scribbling homework on our cave walls, and our phones were mounted on our walls, and our computers were our fingers –
Back then, our Blessed Saint Sunday School teachers used to tell us how Palm Sunday was all a miracle.
They'd say what a miracle it was that Jesus just KNEW that there'd be a man with a spare donkey one town over.
And even then, we'd think,
"Wait. Weren't donkeys the primary mode of transportation?"
"Didn't everybody have one?"
It's not like they were Cadillac Escalades.
(And, by the way, if you drive an Escalade, you roll like a gangsta. Especially the new model that parks itself.)
They'd say, it was God's will that the owner let the disciples borrow Jesus's ride.
And we children would say, "Wait. Wasn't hospitality and sharing with the poor mandated by Jewish law?"
West Virginia's country roads are filled with Biblical scholars that way.


The miracle – if you want to call it that –
is that Jesus and his raggedy band of followers could pull off their little Palm Sunday demonstration without getting arrested.
The Romans didn't tolerate any kind, or any hint of sedition.
The penalty was crucifixion.
And crucifixion NOW.
That's how they saved people from their delusions.
It's a miracle the protest, or parody, wasn't crushed the day it happened.


Yes, the first Palm Sunday was a religious event.
But any religious event becomes a political statement to a non-believer.
Especially non-believers with power.
Especially to the people whose power to save, whose power to persecute – was threatened by a man who taught crazy religious ideas, like:
Love your enemy.
Love your neighbor as yourself.
Turn the other cheek.
I mean.
Imagine.
Imagine what would happen, if everyone believed stuff like Jesus was preaching.


I wonder if we can.


–


Palm Sunday is a beautiful, beloved tradition.
And you know how things become tradition in church.
You do it once.
"We did it last year!"
"It's a tradition!"


And I've been in enough churches to know the rules of Palm Sunday, like the laws of God, are written upon the hearts of believers.
It's a tradition.
The same things always happen.
The same faithful few corral the current crop of kids at the same door and give the same speech that kids never listen to.
We hand them palms we always get at the same place.
We sing the same song.
"All Glory, Laud, and Honor."
Possibly "Hosanna, Loud Hosanna."
And the kids march the same circle around the sanctuary while the parents film video,
and the grandparents accidentally take pictures of themselves,
and everybody loves it.


Same every year.
It just happens.
It's one of those unwritten "Thou Shalt's" that if thou don't, a preacher could get thyself crucified.
Because there's a delicate passive aggression to ALL traditions.
Even church traditions.
Do it.
Do it NOW.
Or else.


The people who staged the first Palm Sunday sang, "Hosanna," – save us now.


Save us now… or… or what?
Well, they were kind enough to give Jesus until Thursday to get things done.
Save us now.
Or, fool around and find out, Jesus.
–


I can't help but believe that Jesus's divine ears could hear the crowds in stereo.
In in one ear, "Hosanna!"
And in the other… the whispers, the murmurings, the unspoken "Or else," of, "Crucify!"
Like when you're wearing headphones and listening to classics from the 70's when stereo was novelty,
and the sound would switch from left to right, right to left, until Pink Floyd was as disorienting as they intended.


And there was Jesus's head, in the middle, with the "NOW" and the "OR ELSE" swirling among the cheering, yet dangerous crowd.
It's like George Carlin used to say,
"I love people. Individually.
"It's when they get into crowds that bad things start to happen."
Jesus should have known what was waiting at the end of the parade.
He actually did.
He told his disciples.
It's almost as if God had a plan.


Because people.
Because people are people.
Whether waving palms.
Waving pom-pons.
Waving rifles.
That's crowds for you.


And yet, Jesus chose to ride on.
Chose to ride on to that cross he knew was waiting for him.


Our NOW always has the sharp edge of OR ELSE, doesn't it?
Clean up this room, NOW… OR ELSE.
Go back to your seats, class. NOW… OR ELSE.
Put down those signs, return to your homes, surrender NOW… OR ELSE.


The people on the first Palm Sunday had their SAVE US NOW…
And they had their OR ELSE, too.
Would barely be four days from Palm Sunday, they'd be shouting it.
CRUCIFY!


But what they didn't know.
What they couldn't have predicted.
What they couldn't wrap their heads around, even though Jesus had told them again, and again, and again…
Is that God has an OR ELSE, too.
But God's OR ELSE isn't death.
God's OR ELSE is life.
God's OR ELSE isn't punishment.
God's OR ELSE is forgiveness.
Forgiveness even for people who dare do their worst.
God's OR ELSE is Easter.
But not yet.
Not NOW.


Salvation in God's OR ELSE is more of a process.
It's not a magic snap of god-like fingers.
God's amazing, saving grace can take a few days longer than we expect.
You see, God's parade doesn't end at the cross.
But that's where we see it.
God's OR ELSE stops at the cross…
And then, the funniest thing happens.
God's OR ELSE keeps on marching.
Keeps marching from the top of the cross, to the bottom of a grave.
To the dawning of a new Easter.
A day of life, a day of life eternal.
A day of the best OR ELSE there could ever be.
When God decides it's time, the right time.
To Save us NOW.


[eos]