Sermon by Michelle - March 26 - Easter Vigil

This is the night.

It's a beautiful night.

If you're like me, or if you have small children in your house, I may have just conjured up images from Lady and the Tramp in your mind. You remember the scene. The two dogs have escaped - she from the mean Aunt Sarah who hates dogs, and her muzzle; he from his rough home on the wrong side of the tracks, where the strays without pedigrees live. They are out for a night on the town. They are in the alley behind an Italian restaurant, at a candlelit table, and Tony has set a plate of spaghetti before them. They coyly look at each other as they eat, and Tony pulls out his accordion to play. "This is the night. It's a beautiful night. And we call it a Bella Nota."

Though there has been considerable story development prior to this, this is a big night for Lady. And for Tramp. It is a night when everything changes. When Lady learns about the world outside her pretty home, and Tramp discovers he is willing to sacrifice and settle down. However, it is also a night that brings new peril, as the two are captured by the dogcatchers. But, at the risk of spoiling the ending, everything turns out okay.

This is the night.

When Christ broke the bonds of death and hell, and rose victorious from the grave. How holy is this night, when wickedness is put to flight, and sin is washed away.

Tonight, we, too, have escaped for a moment. Escaped from whatever is worrying us at home, or at work. Escaped from those who hate us simply for who we are. Escaped from those who would try to muzzle us or stifle us when we speak in love or truth. Escaped from the pressures of our mounting bills, or our sense that our home isn’t good enough. We have found each other this night, perhaps earlier this Holy Week. We have taken shelter in this building, found cheer in the Paschal fire and the candle that burns brightly, setting the mood as certainly as a small candle at a dinner table can.

Each of us has had a considerable story before this night. For some, it is a story that began with a baptism in a church as an infant, Sunday School, and a somewhat sheltered life trying to follow what we learned there. For others, it may have been a life like Tramp, resisting the urge to be tied to a community, or wondering what that was all about, seeking a wild life, until something changes. And there are countless other stories.

Tonight, we share the stories of our faith. The big stories that came before. The story of God creating the world, and declaring it good; the story of God rescuing the Israelites from those who persecuted them. The promise of God to the people – that God would not abandon them forever. And we hear of the fulfillment of that promise, as the women, who go to the tomb expecting to find the lifeless body of Jesus, find it empty. And we hear of their amazement, that he is gone, and the good news that his absence proves that God is still present, even in the darkest moments.

And, after tonight, everything changes. Tonight, we celebrate the knowledge that love does conquer all, even persecution, even death on a cross. We celebrate the proof that there is nothing to fear.

After this night, we will go back out into the world.

Like Lady and the Tramp, we will discover that the world has not changed much while we were gone. There is still danger. There are still those who would hurt. There are still those who would look down on us because of who we are or where we live or what we do.

What has changed is us. Because we know love wins. As Paul reminds us, we have been baptized into Christ's death - we are changed. We no longer see as the world sees. We now have hope. And because of that, we may be able to face things we had never faced before.

Hope and love do not mean that the world will be better tomorrow than it was yesterday. It gives us the knowledge that something better is possible, and the courage to move towards it. It gives us alternatives to despair.

I have a friend from college who is not Christian. She is a bright woman, a lawyer in fact, who has grown increasingly despondent about the current political climate. She swears she won't rant about it, and instead winds up posting pictures of kittens on Facebook to make herself feel better. Which is not a bad method of distracting herself and self-soothing, if you think about it. There are certainly worse ways out there, worse addictions. But, it only goes so far. And, then it doesn't help anymore. About every ten days or so, my friend breaks down. She tells the world, or at least, the Facebook world, how horrible she feels about what is going on, how disappointed she is, or afraid, or angry. And, ten minutes after that post, she will add, "I know. I ranted. Here. Have a kitten." And the cycle begins again. Because she sees no hope, and she feels she has no power.

In contrast, this January, I saw a talk by Emilie Townes, who had been dean of students while I was in divinity school. She talked about her struggles as a black lesbian woman, in a world that often hated her for who she was. But she also reminded us that we are all created in the image of God. And so, she said, she had faith that society could change, even when she was facing the worst kinds of discrimination. Because, as she said, "I know y'all are better than that."

We are called to shine God's light into the darkness, wherever we confront it. On Thursday morning of this week, the bishops of the Old Catholic Church in the Netherlands issued a statement. As Episcopalians, we are in full communion with the Old Catholic Church, a denomination which includes parishes less than 100 miles from the site of this week's bombings, a denomination whose archbishop was, in fact, born in Belgium. That bishop joined with the other bishop of the Old Catholic Church on Thursday, and proclaimed in part: "Shocked by the attacks which yesterday created so many innocent victims in Brussels, we turn our thoughts to those they left behind. We stand with them in silence and grieve the loss of their loved ones.

"We are equally shocked by the conviction apparently held by some, that violence could help resolve these [certain social] problems. War has never brought a solution. [Quite the opposite. Time after time, it is primarily innocent people who pay the price for the lust for power of a few individuals. ]

"These attacks strike at the heart of our community. Tolerance and connection are tested, while these are the foundations for unity and peace. As Christians, we continue to believe that it is only respect and dialogue that can show us the way to a world where all people can achieve justice. We therefore feel called to continue to seek this.

"In this Holy Week, we commemorate the suffering and death of the Lord Jesus: the just man who became the victim of humankind's hatred. We remember how he continued to trust in God, whom he knew as his Father at his side. Jesus revealed to us the role of God as the companion of all who suffer. We hope and pray that the victims of the attacks, their families and friends, and all of us might be able to experience how Jesus's Father stands beside those who suffer.

May the light of Easter also enlighten our life together."

This, then is the light of this night, this beautiful night. It is the light of God, again seeking to conquer the darkness that stirs outside, and in the hearts of those who turn from God. This is the hope we gain - that we are never alone. These are the stories we share, stories of God's love and triumph. And, like a favorite movie watched by toddlers, we want to relive this moment, year after year.

In the movies, beautiful nights lead to changes, and in some cases, to happy endings. To hearts and homes being opened, to a place where everyone is welcome, even if they come from the wrong side of the tracks. In a few minutes, on this beautiful night, we will welcome Emily and Ania into the Church, which dares to proclaim that - rich or poor, male or female, regardless of race or nationality - we are all welcome and beloved of God.

Thousands of years ago, on this beautiful night, everything changed. Hate was killed, and love prevailed. May our lives proclaim the good news of that beautiful night, this night and forever more. Amen.