April 17, 2022 +Easter Day + Pr. Michelle Sevig
(Humming) “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, down in my heart.” Do you know this song? It’s easy, even if you don’t. Sing along.
This song, sung in my childhood Sunday school classes, has been popping into my head several times this past week, and I can’t quite figure out why. I haven’t felt particularly joyful, that’s for sure. In fact, I’ve been a little bit “low energy,” as we say in my family– overwhelmed by everything that’s going on in the world–not joyful at all. Yet still, (sing softly) “Joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart,” as I drag the garbage out to the dumpster, or while waiting impatiently at a red light, or shopping at the grocery store.
This joyful song started on my internal playlist after listening to Senator Cory Booker speak to Ketanji Brown Jackson during the confirmation hearings two weeks ago. After days of intense, hateful, questioning by his colleagues, Senator Booker served up a message of grace to a tearful Judge Jackson, whose nomination to the United States Supreme Court was historic, overdue, and full of joy. His message has been reverberating in my head, and my heart, ever since; especially this phrase he used three times, in various ways, “I’m not going to let anyone steal my joy!”
He knew, we know, this was an historic moment in the history of our country and many of us are simply overcome with joy. Those who recognize the significance of her confirmation, who know the power of its truth within their gut, can’t help but feel joy in this moment. And no one is going to steal that joy, especially those who cannot recognize it or who dismiss it as an idle tale.
It is rare to be overcome with such joy. Brene’ Brown says in her book, Atlas of the Heart, that in her research about feelings that joy is “sudden, unexpected, short lasting and high intensity. (And it is) characterized by a connection with others, or with God, nature or the universe.” Joy is different from happiness. Happiness is something we create. But joy captures us, comes from deep within, and is an intense feeling of deep spiritual connection, pleasure, and appreciation. Like the many who stood with tears in their eyes, unable to explain it, but filled with joy at Ketanji Brown Jackson’s confirmation to the Supreme Court. Or when a parent holds their newborn baby for the first time. For me, the day in 2009, when the ELCA voted to officially allow for LGBTQ pastors to come out of hiding and exist as full members of the clergy roster. I was dying inside and suddenly felt alive again. Tears of overwhelming joy burst forth.
And to be honest, joy welled up in me last night at the Easter Vigil (and this morning too) being together with you all in a full church after two Easters celebrated via Zoom. We are back together in this space to celebrate our most joyful event of the Church year. We boldly shout Alleluia! Christ is Risen. We joyfully sing our Easter songs! And I’m filled with joy, way down in my heart.
But what about that first Easter, before the Resurrection of our Lord’s feast day was even called Easter? That day long ago, when the women started out their day anything but joyful? These faithful women who had been followers of Jesus were grieving deeply. Their teacher and friend, the one they had hoped would bring freedom to their troubled world, was dead. So what were they to do now that their hope was gone? How could they possibly carry on when all seems lost?
I imagine you know what that’s like when your world is turned upside down by grief and despair. When you don’t know what to do, or who to turn to, or what will happen in the future. When you feel dead inside.
The women did what they were expected to do. They gathered up the spices and the oils and made their way to the tomb to care for the body of Jesus, but when they got to the tomb there was no body inside to tend. The gospel writer Luke tells us they were perplexed. Confused to be sure, but maybe more like shocked. Two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them and caused them so much terror they fell to their knees. But once they were reminded about that unbelievable promise, that Jesus would rise again, they were overcome with joy and rushed to the apostles to tell them this startling good news–Jesus is no longer dead. He is risen indeed. Just like he promised.
They burst into that locked room telling everything to their friends. They didn’t care about the looks on the faces of their listeners. They didn’t wait for a chorus of “Jesus Christ is Risen Today”! They had amazing news to share, even if those in the room thought it was an “idle tale.” Interesting tidbit…The words “idle tale” are translated from the Greek word Leros which means garbage, drivel, or nonsense. Some scholars even say it’s better translated as crap or BS. So that’s how the men respond to the women’s joy, to their Easter sermon. Believing it to be leros. Nonsense.
It’s almost as if the eleven remaining apostles tried to steal the women’s joy. They say it wasn’t true. Wouldn’t believe it unless they saw it for themselves. They called BS; it’s just the women talking after all. But I like to think that joy stayed with them as they moved through the next few days, sharing the good news, remembering and counting on everything that Jesus had promised. They were the first witnesses to the resurrection and the first to remember what Jesus had promised–the son of man would suffer and die and after three days rise again. And nobody was going to steal that joy from them.
There is plenty going on right now in your life and mine, in our country and world that will try to steal our Easter joy. That would whisper to us that resurrection isn’t real. That suffering and evil rule the day. That death has the final word.
We come here today, stand together, and say, “We will not let our Easter joy be stolen!”
As Pastor Mueller reminded us in the enews this week, “life is a blend of terror and beauty. Throughout (these days) we hold the tension of darkness and light, bondage and freedom, death and life, sorrow and joy.”
Even if it doesn’t feel quite right to choose joy in these difficult days, maybe that’s when we let the sights and sounds and smells of Easter envelop us, even carry us. And if we doubt the resurrection is true or can’t sing or shout “alleluia joys” ourselves, then we lean into our neighbor who sings and shouts and believes for us.
Maybe right now is when we need to kindle the joy, joy, joy down in our hearts the most. Our wintry hearts are longing for new life. So on this festive morning, we join our senses, our voices, our hearts in the boundless joy and hope of the resurrection. We glory in your cross, O Lord, and we praise your holy resurrection, for by your cross joy has come into the world. Amen.