April 19, 2003
Romans 6:3-11 + Mark 16:1-7
By the clock, it is still night. If someone threw the right switch, it would be dark in here. It is dark outside. The darkness is not just a matter of the position of the sun. There is plenty of darkness even at noontime. It is very dark in the life of simple Iraqi child. It is dark in the lives on death row. It is dark in some churches where there are no priests. It is dark in the lives of families split by the death of love’s promise. It is dark in the heart of a mother who loses a child. It is dark minutes after losing a job. It is dark standing over the grave of a life-long companion just put to rest. All of these dark tragedies are ripe for resurrection; but not necessarily very soon. For some, relief may never come. If left to itself, darkness covers the whole earth. The light comes only when it finds a crack of future hope.
Tonight, we have made a crack in the darkness. Our future hope, our confidence in God, our covenant in the blood of Christ raises high the tiniest of lights in the darkness that would consume all. We have led thirty-eight people into the Light of Christ, and in doing so, have pushed back the darkness even further, for now there is more light than when we began. But the light in symbol is a only a candle: fragile light when the wind blows as it always does. Yet in our hope and in our faith, these fragile tongues of fire will themselves harness the wind of a new Pentecost of the Spirit that will finally light up the whole world by our joy, our hope, and our love that will lead those still in darkness into the light. Christ is risen, my friends. He has come from the darkest of tombs to become our light. For us then, night has become like the day. The power of darkness is no more.