O God of all time and space, be with us on this most holy night in which we are surrounded by the glory, grace, and wonder of Jesus’ Resurrection. Amen.
This is the night that rings out with the notes of the same old song of God’s glory, grace, and wonder. And when I say that it’s the “same old song,” that is not at all a bad thing. In a world in which so many things are passing away, it is good to have something that abides, and that is what this night is about.
While
of course, CS Lewis’ Narnia series is not Scripture, it often points
toward the same truths of Scripture. At the creation of Narnia, we read that
the Christ figure, the lion Aslan sang all things into existence. Lewis writes,
“In the darkness something was happening at last. A voice had begun to sing. It
seemed to come from all directions at once. Sometimes he almost thought it was
coming out of the earth beneath them. Its lower notes were deep enough to be
the voice of the earth herself. There were no words. It was hardly a tune. But
it was beyond comparison, the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. It was so
beautiful he could hardly bear it.” I have no evidence that when God created us
that it was through a song, but I bet it was.
And
ever since then, that same old song of God’s glory, grace, and wonder has been
echoing throughout time and space. There are particular moments in which we
more easily hear this song of love and align ourselves with it – these are moments
that we describe as “holy” and those are what this night is full of.
This
is the night on which Christians gather around the Easter fire to hear the same
old song of God’s redemption. It began in the Exultet, an ancient hymn that
goes back to at least the 300s at the celebration of the Easter Vigil. This
ancient and lovely prayer connects us to saints around the globe and across
time.
This
is the night on which we remember that time is not as firm as we think it is.
We do not remember things on this night, we do not imagine what it must have
been like at some point in the past. No, this is the night. As the Exultet prays,
this is the night when Israel was led out of Egypt. This is the night when
Christ broke the bonds of death and hell. Because God is bigger than time and
space, when we encounter God we are swept up in that sense of timelessness and
so it is true that this is the night of God’s salvation.
As
we find ourselves in the midst of these holy moments, we encounter three things:
glory, grace, and wonder. Glory meaning an experience of God’s magnificence and
grandeur that is beyond human potential. By grace, we mean that we are brought into
holiness not by our deserving but as God’s give. And wonder is about our
response of being swept up in this love of God that is making all things well.
Each of the Vigil readings orients us toward these truths.
This
is the night on which God sang all things into being. God spoke to nothingness and
something happened. Because of God’s creativity, nothing became something. And
not just something, but all things. That is the glory of this night and it is
full of grace. There was nothing to deserve being, and yet it was the
outpouring of the love between the Father, Son, and Spirit that made all
things. Creation tells us that one of the notes of this same old song of
salvation is that with God, truly anything is possible. Because even when nothing
was possible, something happened. No matter how bad the situation, God has
worked with far less. No matter lifeless and hopeless we find ourselves, God’s
creative power to make all things assures that God can also make all things
new.
This
is the night on which Noah, his family, and all of the creeping leave left the ark
and walk again on dry ground. How glorious it is that God never abandons us.
Though humanity was wicked and growing wickeder by the generation, we are here
because of God’s love that can never be drowned. The grace that we see here is
in that God chose to save all of creation through Noah. Now, I realize that the
text says that Noah was righteous, but that doesn’t mean he was perfect. Far
from it. If you want to know why, keep reading through Genesis sometime and you’ll
quickly see that Noah and his children were not exactly the examples of
righteousness that we might expect them to be. God does not save us because we deserve
it, but rather because that is what love does. Love must act, and the wonder of
this night is that God does, indeed, act. We are given signs of God’s salvation
all around us. Sometimes it looks like a dove carrying an olive branch, maybe it
looks like a small piece of bread and a chalice, perhaps it’s a note or text
from a friend, it could be a rainbow in the sky, maybe blooming azaleas. But if
we have eyes to see it, we will be filled with the wonder of God’s salvation that
is written into the very being of life.
This
is the night on which the Lord
drove the sea back and led the people of Israel into freedom on dry ground. How
glorious it is that this same old song reminds us that God seems to rather like
making a way out of no way. When we are stuck between a rock and a hard place,
between the Red Sea and Pharaoh’s army, between two seemingly bad options, God
makes a way forward for us even when we cannot see one. Sometimes that
salvation seems impossible and even scarier than the alternative. What do you
mean that we have to go “through” the Red Sea, don’t you know that not all of
us know how to swim? Following God is not always easy and it doesn’t always
make sense. But God is in the salvation business and we do well to follow.
It’s
such a story of grace when we consider the wider narrative. The people of
Israel were not saved because they were innocent people who just happened to
end up enslaved in Egypt. No, they ended up in Egypt through some divine protection,
but also through some of their own sinful scheming. They ended up in Israel because
a group of brothers decided to sell their brother Joseph into slavery in Egypt.
Sure, as God often does, God worked salvation through that dreadful act, but
that’s how they got there. And that’s how we get into the messes we find ourselves
in. Sin ripples out from one small act. We think it won’t really hurt anyone if
take some money when no one is looking, or when we have a relationship on the side,
or when we seek vengeance instead of reconciliation. And yet, by grace, we are
saved which leads us right into the wonder that God is both behind us and before
us in mercy just as the pillars of smoke and fire guided the Israelites into
freedom.
This
is the night on which after having been swallowed by a fish, Jonah is spit out
on dry ground. How Jonah ended up in the belly of the fish is another story. He
was called to go to Nineveh to proclaim a message of repentance. We miss out on
this, but Nineveh was a bitter enemy of Israel. It would be as if a Ukrainian
were told to go to Moscow because God wants to forgive Russia for its
atrocities. Not only did Jonah not particularly want to go to Nineveh, he
wanted its destruction, not its salvation. But how glorious is it that God
intends to save not just our friends, but our enemies. And this is such good news
to those of us who are so often our own worst enemies.
It’s
a story of grace because Nineveh does not deserve this salvation, they don’t
even follow God. And Jonah after his recalcitrance had earned digestion, not salvation.
But God is not as fickle as we are. Though we run from promises and commitments,
God is steadfast and faithful. The story of Jonah has always been a favorite
for many people – whether it’s art or a children’s Bible, the story of Jonah is
often not overlooked in the way that many of other shorter-length prophets of
the Old Testament are. And at least one of the reasons for this is that it is
such an unconventional story. The wonder in Jonah is that God is perfectly fine
with unconventional if that’s what it takes. So don’t be surprised if God pursues
and saves you with something as unexpected as being swallowed by a fish and spit
out three days later.
This
is the night in which the three young men, Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego,
were sentenced to death by fire and were saved by the presence of God. How glorious
it is to have the blessed assurance that when we are going through a fiery
trial, we do so with God with us. Ultimately, that is what we saw on Good Friday,
that God is always with us. As St. Paul puts it in Romans, “neither death, nor
life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor
powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able
to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
And
though these three young men seem quite virtuous, they receive far more from
God than they can reasonably be expected. That’s what grace does – it takes our
best and amplifies it into so much more. Perhaps they hoped for relief from
pain, or a quick death, or even some sort of an afterlife. But they received so
much more. And that’s the wonder of this story from Daniel, that God’s presence
with us makes all the difference.
This
is the night in which a rattling was heard in a valley as bone came upon bone. God’s
glory is seen in that there is hope for the hopeless, there is life for the
dead, there is a future for the forgotten. Clearly, these dead bones are the recipients
of God’s grace because bones do not ask for or deserve their resurrection, and
yet that is what God gives. And this leads us to a glimpse of the full wonder
of this night, that even in death we can be audacious enough to expect new
life.
This
is the night on which Jesus Christ is raised from the dead! It is such grand
and glorious news that, as we will hear Matthew describe it, there is an
earthquake. And it wasn’t only an earthquake, but we might call it a heaven-quake
or a Creation-quake. All of space and time reverberates in reply to this same
old song of God’s glory, grace, and wonder that emanates from Easter. The glory
of this night is that we see that God is working to renew and fulfill all
things, that all things are being made well, that everything sad is becoming
untrue.
The
word of grace comes from Jesus himself who greets the disciples. The very first
word that the Risen Jesus says could be translated as “grace.” It’s a joyful
greeting that is the same linguistic root as the word for grace. The message of
the Resurrected Lord is not one of judgment for the disciples’ rejection and abandonment
during his Passion, it’s not “Let’s go kick some Roman tail.” There is no mistake,
no doubt, no fear, no sin, not even death can stand between us and the gracious
love of God. The wonder of Easter is that Jesus meets us wherever we are and he
speaks that word of grace, which is just as creative as the first word of “Let there be light,” just as liberating as the
word of “Let my people go,” just as restoring as the word of “Stand up you dry
bones.” At the Vigil, we see the glory of a very busy God who is sounding the
notes of that same old song of salvation throughout the ages.
And
the best part of this news is that we can add our voices to this same old song
and be swept up by the sound of grace. After we renew our Baptismal vows, we
will hear St. Paul’s words from Romans – that just as we have been baptized
with Jesus into his death, we will be raised into Resurrection life with him. By
Baptismal grace, we are named and marked by love as we are gloriously united
with Christ and immersed into a world of wonder as we now live no longer defined
by sin or bound by death, but rather in abundant and eternal life in God.
The
same old song of God’s love continues. We hear it in places like Genesis, Jonah,
Daniel, and Romans. It sounds in the lives of Harriet Tubman, Jonathan Daniels,
and Desmond Tutu. We hear it in these pews, in our conversations with others,
and in the breaking of the bread. This is the night on which the same old song
of our salvation rings out. If you can’t hear it yet, it will ring loud and
clear when we shout with joy the message of Easter in just a few moments.
