Posts Tagged 'Isaiah 55:1-11'

For March 30, 2013: the Great Vigil of Easter, Year C

THE LITURGY OF THE WORD: God acts to create and restore the world

The story of Creation: Genesis 1:1-2:2

The Response: Psalm 136:1-9, 23-26

The Flood: Genesis 7:1-5, 11-18, 8:6-18, 9:8-13

The Response: Psalm 46

Israel’s deliverance at the Red Sea: 
Exodus 14:10-31; 15:20-21

The Response: Canticle 8 (Exodus 15:1-6, 11-13, 17-18)

Salvation offered freely to all: 
Isaiah 55:1-11

The Response: Canticle 9: The First Song of Isaiah (Isaiah 12:2-6)

The valley of dry bones: Ezekiel 37:1-14

The Response: Psalm 143

 

AT THE EUCHARIST

The Epistle            Romans 6:3-11

During the weeks of Lent, the readings took into account the somberness of the season but also looked forward to the joy of Easter. The first epistle we read in Easter rings out our joy, as Isaiah puts it, but it also looks back to the suffering that has freed us from sin.

The Response            Psalm 114

The Gospel            Luke 24:1-12

“Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.”

 

Further thoughts

People in Jesus’ place and time had a pretty good idea what death looked like, what with infant mortality, childhood and adult diseases, death in childbirth, farming accidents, the various ailments associated with old age, and the occasional murders, executions and suicides. Adult women, in particular, knew well what they were supposed to do about it: wash the body (especially if there were blood), treat it with spices against stench, dress it, and straighten the mangled or emaciated limbs in preparation for burial.

They were clearly quite unprepared, however, for the idea of rising from death.

We postmillenials have the advantage of two thousand years of exposure to the idea through scripture, analysis, sermons, and old-fashioned hindsight, but it’s not clear to me that we are really any better prepared for the reality of resurrection than were Jesus’ grieving friends. It’s hard to imagine being resurrected to anything but a life like the one that we now lead, with its dishes to wash and its bills to pay. That’s unsurprising, of course: this is the life we know.

It’s the case, however, that many people who have undergone a near-death experience live differently, at least for a while. They wash the dishes and pay the bills, but—like Scrooge at the end of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol—they live more in the moment, and they are much more mindful of the wonder of the world around them and the people in it.

And we who still stand on this side of the grave—what if we are called to do likewise?

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For April 7, 2012: the Easter Vigil, Year B

The Epistle            Romans 6:3-11

Jesus is both God and man, both high priest and sacrifice, and ready to forgive, if we can forget ourselves long enough to reach for the life he offers.

 

Further thoughts

With the Easter vigil begins the last and greatest day of the Triduum, the three holiest days of Christendom. What extraordinary stories this night tells!

We hear of a God in the business of producing wonders: God who can pull the universe out of nothing, God who can make rainbows, God who can part seas and change hard-headed humans’ minds.

More astonishingly, this God, as Jesus, has willingly taken on human life, and not just selected bits at a suitably high socioeconomic status but the ordinary person’s whole quotidian sequence. Then, in a shocking irony, this God-and-man has allowed the religious establishment to convict him on trumped-up charges and have him executed horribly and shamefully.

The gospel news that knocks the two Marys speechless dazzles us still: this disgraced-and-dead Jesus has not only not stayed dead, but rather he lives body and all, God and man.

But even this life after death is neither the end of the surprises nor the biggest one. The readings from Isaiah and Ezekiel, with their promise of abundance and salvation and real hearts of flesh, set us up for a magnificent, healing, joyous cosmic punch line. As with the best jokes, this one is with us, not on us. For Jesus knows the absolute worst of humanity (yea, even unto adolescence), how judgmental we can be and how obsessive about the unacceptability of what we really are inside; nevertheless he’s setting the best crystal, spicing up the deviled eggs, carving the roast beast, and loosening the corks on the best wines ever, just for us, once we get over ourselves enough to die to our own shame.

The punch line is delivered by the letter to the Romans, and it is this: once we’re dead to shame, we’re alive to receiving the love of Jesus and sharing it—and when we do, the magnificent, healing, joyous party is on NOW.