SERMONS FOR
Holy Week and Easter 2024
An offering of
Sermons That Work
Episcopal
THE CHURCH
SERMONS
THAT WORK
2 3
the very rst line. What kind of people can, with a straight
face, sing this line to our Lord as he rides a donkey, in a
procession of one, through the dirty and dusty streets? How
can someone swell the trumpets and horns, acknowledging
that he goes not to earthly triumph, but “ride[s] on to die”?
Whether this is our rst Holy Week, our twentieth, our
ftieth, our eightieth, how can we instruct the one who “laid
the foundation of the earth” (Job 38:4, NRSVue) to “bow
[his] meek head to mortal pain”?
I would guess that there are two ways we can do these
things; rst, unseriously, and because we have not stopped to
consider the words coming out of our mouths—or perhaps
only because we like the music. Or secondly, seriously,
because we know how this story ends and have committed,
however imperfectly, to believing it. In this week, all our
assumptions about power, about victory, about everything
must change from what the world suggests. It is only by
knowing the eventual defeat and destruction of death that
we could be so bold to sing this song; it is only by knowing
the power of the Resurrection that we could stand and sing
with such resolve before the powers of sin and the grave.
Even when it seems impossible, unlikely, just a nice story, let
our prayer be, “I believe; help my unbelief” (Mark 9:24).
On behalf of Sermons That Work and The Episcopal Church’s
Ofce of Communication, I bid you a blessed Holy Week and
a joyous Easter.
Your brother in Christ,
Christopher Sikkema
The Episcopal Church
Holy Week 2024
Dear Reader,
Thank you for downloading Sermons for Holy Week and
Easter 2024, a collection of materials prepared by some
of the best preachers from across The Episcopal Church.
Sermons That Work, a ministry of The Episcopal Church’s
Ofce of Communication, has provided free and high-quality
sermons, Bible studies, and bulletin inserts since 1995. Every
week, it is our pleasure to source, review, and publish these
pieces; we hope they are edifying as you hear, read, mark,
learn, and inwardly digest these and their corresponding
Scriptures.
One of the most moving aspects of Holy Week and Easter
to me is the absolute inversion of all that one might think and
expect regarding the entry of the Messiah into the Holy City.
I have found that one of our traditional hymns, “Ride on! Ride
on in majesty!,” captures it particularly well—starting with
4 5
The Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday
COLLECT:
Almighty and everliving God, in your tender love for the human
race you sent your Son our Savior Jesus Christ to take upon him
our nature, and to suffer death upon the cross, giving us the
example of his great humility: Mercifully grant that we may walk in
the way of his suffering, and also share in his resurrection; through
Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy
Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
READINGS:
ISAIAH 50:4-9A; PSALM 31:9-16; PHILIPPIANS 2:5-
11; MARK 14:1-15:47 OR MARK 15:1-39, [40-47]
GOD SAVE THE PEOPLE
by the Rev. Anna Tew
“When wilt thou save the people?
O God of mercy, when?
Not kings and lords, but nations,
Not thrones and crowns, but men...
God save the people.”
Famous words, not from the Gospel of John, but from the
Stephen Schwartz musical, Godspell.
Palm Sunday.
It is the moment of the church year most frequently documented
in musical theatre, and with good reason.
It is ashy, it has its own special soundtrack, and everyone gets a
prop: a branch to wave.
It would seem, however, that in the text claiming to describe
Jesus’ actual ride into Jerusalem on the back of a donkey, there
were no musical numbers at all.
There was a lot of shouting. There were a lot of symbols. And
there were people crowded around, demanding things, hoping
for more, for better, for peace. A crowd invests their tired hope
in this controversial rabbi riding into town on a donkey, and they
show up for him with shouting, symbols, and loud support.
It was much less like a musical number and much more like a
protest. The authorities might have even called it a riot.
Hosanna!
God save the people.
7
Episcopal
THE CHURCH
We nd ourselves today in John 12, right after Mary anoints Jesus
and some religious leaders plot to kill him. So much has already
happened in John’s Gospel, and yet, the true action has yet to
take place. John 1 through John 12 is known to scholars as the
“Book of Signs,” when Jesus performs miracles and gives teachings
and surprises everyone with what he does, culminating in his most
rabble-rousing miracle of all: raising Lazarus from the dead. That
miracle changed everything. From then on, Jesus was ofcially
making too much of a ruckus. Word was spreading. Rome, the
oppressing empire, was watching.
Something had to be done about this rebellious rabbi that
everyone was following.
We are at a hinge point in every sense of the term. We are at a
hinge point in the Gospel of John, between John’s “Book of Signs”
and what would become known as the “Book of Glory”.
We are at a hinge point liturgically, teetering between Lent and
Holy Week and ready to plunge into our yearly remembrance of
Jesus’ last days before his crucixion.
We are also at a hinge point societally, as this leap year will take
us through another presidential election cycle. But then, it always
seems that we are at a hinge point societally, because we never
quite know when we are on the verge of a day that changes
everything.
This is also where the rst observers of Palm Sunday found
themselves. They lived in a land occupied by all of the oppressive
power of Rome. Many of the occupants of the land were Jewish,
a minority religion in the Roman Empire. Like human beings from
ancient times right up until today, what they wanted most was
to live their lives, observe their faith, care for their families, and
make a living. But as often happens to humans, events beyond
their control — like Rome conquering their land — affected their
ability to do these things.
Some in Israel wanted to rebel against Rome, and they had,
and they would do so again in the future. Others preferred to
keep their heads down and try to live their lives as peacefully
as possible. And most people were somewhere in between the
extremes. They weren’t satised with the way things were going
at all, but they also weren’t about to take up arms against the
greatest military power in the world at the time.
Enter Jesus, the offbeat rabbi that they say brought a man back
from the dead.
Could he be the one that would save them?
Word begins to spread that he’s coming to Jerusalem. Someone
spots him. They tell others. Soon, he’s riding into Jerusalem on
the back of a donkey. A horse would have been a clear statement
that he was a military leader. But a donkey? Humble. Peaceful.
Others assemble. John is the only Gospel to note that the crowd
had palm branches. Palm branches are a Near Eastern symbol of
many things, among them victory, eternal life, peace.
God save the people.
Soon, there is a huge crowd, with people pushing, craning to see
the famous rabbi that they say brought a man back who had been
dead for days.
Could he be the one to save us?
In the verses that follow today’s Gospel text, the religious leaders
shake their heads in despair and sigh, “See, you can do nothing.
Look, the world has gone after him!” (John 12:19).
Two thousand years later, we still look for the one who will save
the people. We put our hopes in all kinds of people, things, and
programs. We yearn for the thing that will take us from difculty
to freedom, from sickness to health, and from death to life.
8 9
God, save the people.
Today, let us join the world in running after Jesus. Let us grip the
palms in our hands and imagine what it must have been like to be
there, to see him, to invest our tired hope in him.
At this hinge point in history in 2024, let us remember that we
are not the rst to fear, the rst to suffer, the rst to want better
things for ourselves and our families. We are not the rst to
despair or the rst to offer our tired hope up to the one who
might save us.
Beloved, the story of Jesus is our story, and here, we get to live
through it again together. Let us, just this once, forget that we
know the ending. Let us invest our tired hope in the one who
rides on a donkey. Let us dare to imagine that he might be the
one to take us from death into life.
The story is being told once again. Let us lean into it, together.
Today, we grip our palms. From here, either individually or
together, we will journey from this Jerusalem road to the upper
room, where fears will be shared and feet will be washed and a
meal will be broken and poured for us.
And then, as it always does, on Good Friday the worst
will happen.
Hope is crushed. Love is laid quiet.
Beloved, forget for a moment that you know the ending. When
love is laid quiet in our own lives, we allow ourselves to mourn
that the worst has happened.
From the tomb, who knows where love and hope could take us?
God, save the people.
Love comes to us today riding on a donkey. Let us greet him with
palms and songs. And then let us once again journey with him
from death into life.
May we encounter the holy this week, and may we nd our tired
hope refreshed.
God, save the people.
Amen.
The Rev. Anna Tew is a Lutheran pastor based in South Hadley,
Massachusetts. She has served a fantastic little parish called Our
Savior’s Lutheran Church for seven years. Anna was born and raised in
Alabama and considers Atlanta her second home. She graduated from
the Candler School of Theology at Emory University in 2011 and has
served in a variety of settings since then, including both parish ministry
and hospital chaplaincy. In her spare time, she enjoys hiking, CrossFit,
and music of all kinds.
s in the b
10 11
“Love comes to us today
riding on a donkey. Let us
greet him with palms and
songs. And then let us once
again journey with him
from death into life.”
– THE REV. ANNA TEW
1. Can you relate to the concept of “tired hope”?
2. Put yourself in the place of those watching Jesus enter Jerusalem. What
emotions do you feel?
12 13
and Poolside, and toured as a DJ. He now lives a much more
Monday in Holy Week
COLLECT
Almighty God, whose most dear Son went not up to joy but
rst he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was
crucied: Mercifully grant that we, walking in the way of the cross,
may nd it none other than the way of life and peace; through
Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and
the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
READINGS:
ISAIAH 42:1-9; PSALM 36:5-11; HEBREWS 9:11-15;
JOHN 12 :1-11
TO THE END AND BEYOND
by the Rev. Canon Whitney Rice
We return, as we always do on Monday of Holy Week, to the
little house in Bethany. Ears still ringing from the raucous crowds
thronging the streets of Jerusalem yesterday on Palm Sunday,
perhaps our own voices are hoarse from shouting, “Hosanna to
the Son of David!” Our unspoken hope was that if we proclaimed
it loudly enough, maybe this year we wouldn’t hear our own
voices a scant week later shouting, “Crucify him!”
Jesus knows what is coming, and he comes here to the house in
Bethany for strength. Perhaps we can do the same. But, as always
with Jesus, and especially during Holy Week, there is a dose of
keen insight awaiting us, insight about ourselves and our motives
that we might have been happier without.
Jesus draws strength from his dearest friends: Martha with
her untiring service, practical and steadfast, Mary with her
extravagant devotion, intense and demonstrative, and Lazarus,
who loves with neither deeds nor words, but his simple, quiet
presence. Martha speaks with her hands, Mary speaks with her
tears, and Lazarus speaks with a small smile and the love shining
out of his eyes as he sits at table with Jesus for the last time. The
goodbye, unspoken in any direct terms, vibrates in the room with
palpable intensity.
Is Jesus going to come to your house tonight? Are you his trusted
condante, someone who loves him not for the miracles and the
prophecies of his kingship but for himself? Are you his companion
at meals uncounted? Have you shared table fellowship with him,
times of laughter and feasting, over weeks and months and years
of friendship? Has he raised you from the dead?
The questions keep coming from some hidden corner of our
troubled spirits. Will you be able to comfort him with the
evidence of your walking, talking, breathing self that he brought
back from death like Lazarus? Can he count on your service like
he can with Martha? Does he know you’ll do anything for him like
Mary will? Can you show him with your life that resurrection is
real? These are the questions that haunt us tonight.
These remarkable siblings that Jesus so cherished have much to
teach us. But let’s focus for a moment on one perhaps overlooked
detail that will keep us asking ourselves the hard questions, the
14 15
questions that will move Holy Week from being a mere dramatic
spectacle to a life-changing valley of shadow and spiritual growth.
After Mary pours her perfume on Jesus’ feet and Judas scolds
her for it, Jesus says this: “Leave her alone. She bought it so
that she might keep it for the day of my burial.” Consider the
implications of this statement. Mary, who loved Jesus, who found
her life changed by his teaching and his healing presence, who
knew she was his beloved friend, at some point went to the
market and bought perfume to anoint Jesus’ dead body. Have
you ever thought about your best friend, a friend who is in very
good health and doing great work in the world, at the peak of
his strength and vibrancy, and then thought, “Well, I’d better go
ahead and pick out what I’m going to wear to his funeral.”?
Of course not. It’s nonsensical. Or at least it seems to be. But it
is actually a statement of profound loyalty and love that puts all
Peter’s blustering bravado and Judas’ self-righteous moralizing to
shame. First of all, Mary has heard Jesus say that the Son of Man
must be betrayed into the hands of sinners, killed, and on the
third day rise again. And unlike the scribes and Pharisees, unlike
even Jesus’ chosen twelve, she believed him. She believed him, and
rather than scolding him for it like Peter or hedging her bets for
her future after Jesus like Judas, she quietly prepared for it.
What makes this act so seless is that she did not try to dissuade
him from going purposely to his death, nor did she try to
inuence the outside political situation in the world to prevent
his arrest or conviction. This was where her Lord said he needed
to go, and so she determined to go with him. Furthermore, she
knew he would leave her behind, but rather than selshly trying
to stop it, she quietly, methodically prepared to continue loving
and caring for him after he died.
She walked toward death herself in an incredibly seless way, not
a dramatic literal death, but the humble and exquisitely painful
death of being the one left behind, the one still alive, the one
abandoned to a bitter, living grief. She privately bought perfume
for the day of his burial and stored it away until it would be
needed. From extravagant, demonstrative Mary, this is a hidden
and humble act of deep loyalty that would probably never be seen
or known by anyone, even Jesus, because he would be dead. It is a
reminder of the glory hidden away in the corners of other people
in unexpected ways that we never see. It is a reminder of the
glory hidden away in you.
But Mary didn’t wait. She didn’t wait until he died. She poured
the perfume on his feet before he died at what was, for her and
her siblings, their Last Supper with Jesus. Why? It takes what
was already a beautiful act of devotion, her private resolution to
accompany him to death and beyond, to the next level. First, she
shows him while he is still alive that she accepts that he will die.
She will not try to prevent him from doing what he is determined
to do, and by anointing him for burial while he is alive, she is
pledging herself to him and showing that she trusts him enough to
let him die without protesting.
Second, she does this in her own home. She says yes to death
in her own private space, the place where she has had the most
precious moments of her life with Jesus. This house in Bethany is
a symbol of her heart, and she opens herself to the death of Jesus
here.
This farewell dinner is the Last Supper for Mary, Martha, and
Lazarus. This is the sacramental moment for them, of fellowship
with death approaching, and Mary pours herself and her offering
out upon Jesus. She allows herself to be broken open, shedding
tears, wiping his feet with her hair, saying a wholehearted “yes” to
how Jesus will allow himself to be broken for her. This is love and
grief and loyalty and hope all bound up in one transcendent act.
16 17
So, have you purchased perfume for the day of Jesus’ burial?
There is still time. It is a tremendous risk. It is a pledge to stay
with Jesus to the end and beyond, to care for him when he can
no longer care for himself, to say yes to his death, knowing it will
mean your own death in a profound way.
But Jesus loves Mary so much for this simple act with its hidden
depths of devotion. It strengthens him. It is a point of stability
for him in a world rapidly ying apart, an act of steadfast and
unbreakable loyalty among his friends who are running for the
hills as he approaches the end.
The gospel says, “The house was lled with the fragrance of
the perfume.” She breaks the bottle and the fragile, ethereal,
enchanting smell transforms the house into holy space, where
death and life and love are mingled inextricably. This is what
happens in our hearts when we allow that last hope of running
away from the truth to break within us, just like that bottle of
perfume. The smallest of sounds, the smallest of moments, with
the deepest of meanings.
So let us go within. Let us explore the hidden corners of our own
hearts. Let us search our spirits and ask: will we buy perfume
for the day of Jesus’ burial? No one will thank us for it. Judas will
scold us for it, everyone else will simply think us dramatic and
hysterical women. What a stupid and useless thing to do, they will
all say.
But Jesus—Jesus will understand. And Jesus will cherish our gift of
ourselves.
The Rev. Canon Whitney Rice (she/her/hers) is an Episcopal priest who
serves as the Canon for Evangelism & Discipleship Development for
the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri. She is a graduate of Yale Divinity
School, where she won the Yale University Charles S. Mersick Prize for
Public Address and Preaching and the Yale University E. William Muehl
Award for Excellence in Preaching. She has taught undergraduate
courses at the University of Indianapolis and has contributed to
Lectionary Homiletics, the Young Clergy Women’s Project journal
Fidelia’s Sisters, and other publications. She has served as a researcher
and community ministry grant consultant for the Indianapolis Center
for Congregations and is currently a member of The Episcopal Church’s
Evangelism Council of Advice. A communicator of the gospel at heart,
she writes and teaches on a wide variety of topics, including rethinking
evangelism, stewardship, leadership, women’s theology of the body,
mysticism, and spiritual development. When she’s not thinking about
theology, particularly the intersection of evangelism and justice work
(which is all the time, seriously), you’ll nd her swing dancing. Find more
of her work at her website Roof Crashers & Hem Grabbers (www.
roofcrashersandhemgrabbers.com).
18 19
“It is a pledge to stay with
Jesus to the end and beyond,
to care for him when he
can no longer care for
himself, to say yes to his
death, knowing it will
mean your own death
in a profound way.”
– THE REV. CANON WHITNEY RICE
1. How has your loyalty – to God or to others - been demonstrated
or tested?
2. After reading this sermon, what actions or attitudes are you willing to
undertake to deepen your loyalty and devotion to Christ?
20 21
Tuesday in Holy Week
COLLECT
O God, by the passion of your blessed Son you made an
instrument of shameful death to be for us the means of life: Grant
us so to glory in the cross of Christ, that we may gladly suffer
shame and loss for the sake of your Son our Savior Jesus Christ;
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for
ever and ever. Amen.
READINGS:
ISAIAH 49:1-7; PSALM 71:1-14; CORINTHIANS 1:18-
31; JOHN 12:20-36
THE HERO REVEALED
by the Rev. Amy Richter, PhD, 2019
Sometimes our eyes deceive us. We think we know what we’re
looking at, but it turns out that reality is different than we
thought, like our perceptions or expectations were off, there
is more here than meets the eye. Sometimes, of course, we
can’t see something because it’s hidden. Sometimes it’s hidden in
plain sight, and other times, it was waiting for the right time to
be revealed.
Moviemakers know that the hidden hero can be a great character,
a great type. You know, the person who turns out to be very
different from our rst expectations just when the plot demands
it. Think of the bookworm whose quiet, nerdy nature could make
her easily overlooked, but then it totally pays off when she knows
the obscure fact that saves the day. Think of Hermione Granger
(from the Harry Potter series) who is the brains of the bunch.
You can tease her for being a know-it-all, but you want her recall
of spells when ghting the bad guys. Think of Dr. Henry Walton
Jones, Jr., who, if you only knew him from archaeology class,
you would think of as a harmless bespectacled professor, but
we know him as Indiana Jones, whose vision somehow improves
when he ghts Nazis and Soviet agents. Think of Princess Leia in
Star Wars—A New Hope (the rst one)—who is in a bind. Luke
and Han come to rescue her, but when the rescue doesn’t go as
planned, she grabs Luke’s blaster, shoots at the stormtroopers
and declares, “Somebody has to save our skins!” There are even
examples of movies featuring preachers who are quite mild-
mannered but, threaten their congregation, and they will kick
in the door and look like they spend as much time practicing
marksmanship as they do in Bible study. If Clint Eastwood in Pale
Rider is an extreme example, think of salt-of-the-earth Father
Barry in On the Waterfront, who advocates peaceful resistance
to evil, but doesn’t hesitate to punch Marlon Brando’s character
and send him ying across the room when he needs a little
calming down.
We love the hidden hero, the person who becomes who we want
them to be in the face of threat, danger, and the forces of evil.
We love the moment when they are revealed as stronger, badder,
braver, more durable than they looked, the person not to be
tried or messed with or taken for granted, or else, look out.
There’s a lot about hiding and revealing in our lessons for today.
In Isaiah, we hear about the servant of the Lord, “He made my
mouth like a sharp sword, in the shadow of his hand he hid me;
he made me a polished arrow, in his quiver he hid me away.” This
hidden one would be revealed, and then “Kings shall see and
stand up, princes, and they shall prostrate themselves, because
of the Lord, who is faithful, the Holy One of Israel, who has
chosen you.”
Kings don’t stand—other people stand in their presence. Princes
don’t prostrate themselves—people prostrate before them. But
when the Lord reveals this servant “to raise up the tribes of Jacob
and to restore the survivors of Israel,” to be given “as a light
to the nations,” that God’s “salvation may reach to the end of
22 23
the earth,” people will be amazed. Those who saw “one deeply
despised, abhorred by the nations, the slave of rulers,” will know
that this servant is no less than the chosen of the Lord.
We love the hidden hero. And we love the moment when their
power is revealed in all its glory.
It could be tempting to imagine Jesus that way. It could be
tempting to want Jesus to reveal himself that way, to want him—
the unjustly condemned, tortured, and crucied man hanging on
a cross—to lose his patience, his temper, his restraint, and tear
himself down from the cross and exact revenge on his captors;
to want Jesus to summon some super-human physical strength,
blast the cross into toothpicks, and go after the whole legion of
Roman soldiers who now tremble in shock and terror when they
see who Jesus really is; to want Jesus to stop being the weak,
wounded, defeated man on the cross he appears to be—and be
instead the kind of hero we want him to be.
We’re not alone. Way before Hollywood, and in real life, people
taunted Jesus to reveal his true self, or what they thought that
would look like. Soldiers scoff, “If you are the King of the Jews,
save yourself!” (Luke 23:37); a criminal calls out, “Are you not
the Messiah? Save yourself, and us!” (Luke 23:39); passersby cry,
“If you are the Son of God, come down from the cross.” (Matt
27:40); chief priests, along with the scribes and elders, mock, “He
is the King of Israel; let him come down from the cross now, and
we will believe in him” (Matt 27:42). In other words, you don’t
look like a king, a Messiah, a Son of God. Transform yourself into
our version of a hero, and then we’ll believe.
But Jesus won’t do it. He won’t transform into our version, the
hero we want him to be. He stays on the cross—the hero and
savior we need.
When some Greeks come to Philip and say, “Sir, we wish to see
Jesus,” we get all excited. What an evangelism opportunity! And
people actually come asking, none of that messy going out to
people where they are with the Good News! They just come!
Philip, along with Andrew, goes to Jesus to tell him about this
great chance to impress. Jesus starts off in a promising way: “The
hour has come for the Son of Man to be gloried.” Excellent!
We’ve been waiting for this moment! The hidden hero will peel
off the outer layer, duck into the phone booth, nd exactly the
right words, cast the right spell, roll up his sleeves, pick up his
weapon… But then Jesus starts talking about death: “Very truly,
I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it
remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” His
glorication comes on the cross, not in spite of it. On the cross—
not escaping from it. On the cross—not smashing, avoiding,
outwitting, or faking it.
Notice this. Keep this in mind as this week unfolds: Jesus’
glorication comes on Good Friday when he looks like—when he
is exactly who he is—a victim of torture and injustice, not when
he strides forth in glowing robes. Don’t rush to Easter and miss
this truth.
Don’t miss it, because Jesus says this is our path to glorication
too: “Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their
life in this world will keep it for eternal life.” This is the type
of hero Jesus wants us to be. No secret powers or arsenals or
strength. No place for them or need for them in the plot. Just the
grace of God, the wisdom of God, the strength of God.
The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are
perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God.
This sermon, written by the Rev. Amy Richter, PhD, originally ran for
Tuesday in Holy Week in 2019.
24 25
“This is the type of hero
Jesus wants us to be. No
secret powers or arsenals or
strength. No place for them
or need for them in the plot.
Just the grace of God, the
wisdom of God, the strength
of God”
– THE REV. AMY RICHTER, PHD, 2019
1. How does the message of the cross challenge conventional notions of
power and glory and inspire a different understanding of heroism?
2. What is the signicance of Jesus refusing to transform into the hero that
people wanted him to be and instead remaining on the cross as the hero
they needed?
26 27
Wednesday in Holy Week
COLLECT
Lord God, whose blessed Son our Savior gave his body to be
whipped and his face to be spit upon: Give us grace to accept
joyfully the sufferings of the present time, condent of the glory
that shall be revealed; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for
ever and ever. Amen.
READINGS:
ISAIAH 50:4-9A; PSALM 70; HEBREWS 12:1-3;
JOHN 13:21-32
THE PARADOX OF JUDAS
by Susan Butterworth, 2020
The Paradox of Judas: ultimate betrayer or player in the cosmic
drama of salvation?
Today’s gospel passage begins, “After saying this Jesus was
troubled in spirit, and declared ‘Very truly, I tell you, one of you
will betray me.’” Looking back to what Jesus has just said, we hear
these words, spoken after he has washed the disciples’ feet: “If
you know these things, you are blessed if you do them. I am not
speaking of all of you; I know whom I have chosen. But it is to
fulll the scripture, ‘The one who ate my bread has lifted his heel
against me.’ I tell you this now, before it occurs, so that when it
does occur, you may believe that I am he” (John 13:17-19).
Jesus makes it clear that there is a betrayer among the inner circle
of disciples, and that the betrayal was prophesied. He quotes
Psalm 41, verse 9: “Even my bosom friend in whom I trusted, who
ate of my bread, has lifted the heel against me.” To increase the
dramatic irony and tension, Jesus is at the table, sharing bread
with his bosom friends: the beloved disciple, Simon Peter, and
the others. To whom could Jesus be referring? The disciples are
mystied. Who could it be? Then Jesus reveals the betrayer by
dipping a piece of bread in oil and giving it to Judas Iscariot.
What do we know of Judas? The name Judas Iscariot, son of
Simon Iscariot, identies him, according to many scholars, as a
man from the town of Kerioth in Judea. All four gospels include
Judas among the twelve of Jesus’ closest disciples. He seems to
have played a faithful role along with the other eleven whom
Jesus sent out with power over unclean spirits and a ministry of
preaching and healing. Thus, two basic facts we know about Judas
are that Jesus chose him as one of the twelve disciples and that
Judas handed Jesus over to the Jerusalem authorities, leading to
Jesus’ execution.
Was Judas’ call to discipleship genuine? It is unlikely that Judas was
an imposter from the beginning. In addition to his ministry as a
follower of Jesus, he was trusted with the common purse, though
John the Evangelist portrays him as a thief. What happened to
change Judas into a betrayer? John tells us that Satan entered into
28 29
him. Does this indicate a change of heart? Why did he betray
Jesus? For money? In the Gospel of Matthew, Judas betrays Jesus
for thirty pieces of silver. For political reasons? Some scholars
suggest that Judas wanted Jesus to be arrested to precipitate
an uprising against the authorities and that he didn’t really think
Jesus would be killed. Others suggest that Judas wanted Jesus
arrested to end a dangerous armed rebellion before it began. Still
others suggest that he was disillusioned with Jesus, having hoped
he would overthrow Roman rule of Judea. Or perhaps Judas was
a faithful follower who betrayed Jesus at Jesus’ own request, to
fulll the prophecy of scripture and set the inevitable in motion,
as suggested in the apocryphal Gospel of Judas.
The possible reasons for Judas’ betrayal follow two interwoven
patterns. Either Judas was a greedy, unfaithful man, led into sin by
Satan to betray Jesus for money or political reasons, or Judas was
a player in the cosmic drama of good and evil, playing an essential
role in the salvation of mankind when he handed Jesus over to the
authorities. If Jesus’ crucixion was inevitable and necessary for
the glory of God and the salvation of mankind, then Judas’ action
in leading the authorities to Jesus was part of the divine plan.
The distinction rests in some measure on translation. Twentieth-
century theologian Hans Urs von Balthasar asserts that the
New Testament Greek word paradidonai, often translated as
“betrayed,” actually means “handing over of self.” Thus, Paul’s
description of the institution of the Lord’s Supper in his First
Letter to the Corinthians, “The Lord Jesus on the night he was
betrayed took bread” (1 Corinthians 11:23), take on a different
theological meaning when translated “on the night he was
handed over.”
In the 1979 Book of Common Prayer alone, we nd a variety of
translations. Whether we read the traditional translation in the
Rite I Eucharistic Prayer: “In the night in which he was betrayed,”
or the contemporary language of Rite II, Eucharistic Prayer A,
“On the night he was handed over,” or the language of Eucharistic
Prayer D, “When the hour had come for him to be gloried,”
there is no doubt that the name Judas has become synonymous
with betrayal.
Mark’s gospel tells us that Judas led the authorities to Jesus as he
prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane, and then betrayed Jesus
with a kiss: “Now the betrayer had given them a sign, saying, ‘The
one I will kiss is the man; arrest him and lead him away under
guard.’ So when he came, he went up to him at once and said,
‘Rabbi!’ and kissed him. Then they laid hands on him and arrested
him” (Mark 14: 44-46).
From beloved, trusted disciple to betrayer, it’s clear that love and
betrayal go hand in hand. Matthew tells us that Judas immediately
felt regret, tried to return the money he had taken in exchange
for Jesus’ life, and then hanged himself.
We really don’t know why Judas turned Jesus over to the
authorities. It is possible that Judas, like most of us, acted from
complicated and unclear motives. It is possible that Jesus knew
this. From the prayer of Jesus: “Forgive us our sins, as we forgive
those who sin against us, and keep us from temptation.” The
sinner who has succumbed to temptation could be Judas. The
sinner who has succumbed to temptation could be any of us.
30 31
Considering Judas’ role in the events of Jesus’ last days in
Jerusalem, we ponder the nature of betrayal, of sin and
redemption. We know that Jesus was troubled in spirit, that the
knowledge that one of those he loved would betray him caused
him distress. As human beings and as followers of Jesus, we are
called to love. We strive not to betray that love. We know that it
is never too late to change or repent, that God’s love and capacity
for forgiveness are innite.
We are left with the paradox of Judas. Was he a faithful man
who did what had to be done for the salvation of humankind,
who made a difcult choice, even though his name would be
synonymous with betrayal for millennia? It is possible. Was his
decision to hand Jesus over to the authorities an act of politics,
in hope of advancing a revolt and overthrowing an unjust power?
Perhaps the outcome wasn’t what he hoped it would be. Some of
us may be very frustrated with our country’s politics; would we
do something as desperate as Judas’ act? Was Judas truly called
to ministry with Jesus, and later succumbed to a loss of faith? He
could be any one of us. Did Judas hang himself out of regret or
remorse? Did he repent before he died? Was he an evil tool of
Satan or a awed, doubting human being? Was Jesus betrayed, or
was he handed over? Was Judas’ act a result of one man’s greed
and sin, or obedience to God’s purpose for our salvation? There
are no easy answers.
Judas as a rebel, a man with a political agenda. Judas as a disciple
called to ministry, coping with loss of faith. Judas as an agent in
the cosmic drama of God versus Satan. Any of these faces of
Judas could be you or I. May we be called to examine our hearts
this Holy Week, to discern our motives, to struggle against Satan
when the need arises. May we strive to keep faith with those we
love.
Let us pray: Christ Jesus, when temptation urges us to abandon
you, you pray within us. Even if we forget you, your love remains,
and you send your Holy Spirit upon us. And when we come to
know our weaknesses, unexpected resources appear within us.
Amen.
This sermon, written by Susan Butterworth, originally ran for
Wednesday in Holy Week in 2020.
32 33
“May we be called to
examine our hearts this
Holy Week, to discern our
motives, to struggle against
Satan when the need arises.
May we strive to keep faith
with those we love.”
– SUSAN BUTTERWORTH, 2020
1. What are your rst thoughts when you hear the name of Judas?
2. Read the second verse of “Ah, holy Jesus” - #158 in The Hymnal 1982.
What insights do you glean from this text about the nature of betrayal?
34 35
Maundy Thursday
COLLECT
Almighty Father, whose dear Son, on the night before he suffered,
instituted the Sacrament of his Body and Blood: Mercifully grant
that we may receive it thankfully in remembrance of Jesus Christ
our Lord, who in these holy mysteries gives us a pledge of eternal
life; and who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen
READINGS:
EXODUS 12:1-4, (5-10), 11-14; PSALM 116:1, 10-17; 1
CORINTHIANS 11:23-26; JOHN 13:1-17, 31B-35
ADAPTATION
by the Rev. Jazzy Bostock
There’s a theory you may have heard about – hedonic adaptation.
Basically, it means we get used to the circumstances of our lives
– and return to our baseline happiness. Here’s an example – You
fantasize about buying a new car and save your money to be able
to afford it. The day comes and you buy the car. Fabulous! You get
a small happiness boost. But likely, by the next day, that dopamine
hit has decreased. By the end of the week, even more so. And by
the end of the month, you’re used to it. This is just your car now.
Your mind adjusts – hedonic adaptation.
Similarly, for something negative – some people express it by
saying time heals. For example, when someone rst dies, the grief
seems almost unbearable. You can’t imagine living without that
person. But as time passes, you get into a new rhythm – your
baseline returns. Again, hedonic adaptation.
The theory says that each person has a happiness set point, which
is basically your genetically determined predisposition towards
happiness. No matter, then, what happens in your life – no matter
what your circumstances might be – you will return, more or less,
to that set point.
Now, what does this happiness theory have to do with Maundy
Thursday and Holy Week and preparing ourselves for Easter?
These holy days – this Holy Week – sort of shake us out of our
baseline – to remind us of the miracle of resurrection.
Most of the church year, we live in ordinary time. Green is on the
altar and we hear the stories and teachings of Jesus – and work to
put them into practice in our lives. Of course, Jesus’ resurrection
is a premise of our faith - and we afrm it weekly in the Nicene
Creed – but by and large, for the most part, this crucixion and
resurrection business is skimmed over. We forget about the
incredible miracle that Easter presents to us. We fall into our
baseline. We practice hedonic adaptation.
Palm Sunday, Maundy Thursday, and Good Friday pull us out
of our baselines - out of our hedonic adaptation – and point us
rst to the devastation of Jesus’ death, and then to the joy of
the miracle which is coming. The story of these holy days, of this
Holy Week, gives us time to be shaken up. Time to be pulled out
of our baselines, and out of our adaptation – time to hear these
stories and hear the wonder in them, as if they were new to
our ears.
Today, on Maundy Thursday, Jesus says to his followers that he
is leaving them with a new commandment – that they love one
36 37
another. Now, this feels a bit like a baseline for Jesus, who is
always teaching us about love and expansion and how much God
has for us. But what may be different here is how close he is to
the end. He knows that death is coming, and he suspects that it
won’t be a peaceful passing.
And yet, even in the face of this difculty – even in the face of a
cruel, brutal, undeserved death – he tells his disciples to leave the
sword behind and to love one another. It’s revolutionary.
No matter how many times we have heard this scripture, no
matter how many Maundy Thursdays we have lived through,
worshipped through, this teaching should catch us by surprise. It
should make our breath catch in our throats.
We might be used to the stories we hear during Holy Week. We
might have adapted to them. But if we are willing to hear them
again and really listen, then we can’t help but be shaken from our
own hedonistic adaptation and be taken on an emotional journey
toward the cross.
We have been coming to this point, traveling toward the cross,
for all of the Lenten season – but in these three holy days, we
really get the opportunity to experience the story of the cross.
Even our worship looks different; many churches take today to
practice the washing of feet or share an agape meal. Our liturgy
clues us into the fact that all is not business as usual – that these
days are set apart, meant to shake us awake and make us pay
attention once more. The journey we take over these days will
not end in death and darkness but in resurrection and new life.
We will walk away with a deeper faith, a deeper love of God and
of neighbor.
While hedonic adaptation is a theory proven over time, there is
an antidote. Meditation or prayer, researchers noted, can elicit
positive emotions. Specically, becoming aware of what we have
through mindfulness practices can refocus our energy and give us
a bigger, longer-lasting boost to our baseline happiness.
Maybe these holy days function a bit like that. They ask us to
practice mindfulness around Jesus’ life and death so that we can
hear his resurrection as the fresh miracle that it is. They shake
us from our baseline, giving us time to really hear the amazing
miracle that is coming as we approach Easter.
So, may this Maundy Thursday be a clarion call – a sign to wake
from your slumber, and pay attention. An opportunity to hear
Jesus’ preaching about love as the revolutionary act that it is.
And may we all be shaken from our own hedonistic adaptations.
Amen.
The Rev. Jazzy Bostock is a strong, proud, kanaka maoli woman. She
serves two small parishes on the west side of Oahu, one Episcopal
and one Lutheran. She and her wife tend to a small garden together,
delighting in the way food grows. She loves to laugh, walk barefoot,
cook, and feel the sun on her skin.
38 39
“If we are willing to hear
them again and really
listen, then we can’t help
but be shaken from our own
hedonistic adaptation and
be taken on an emotional
journey toward the cross.”
– THE REV. JAZZY BOSTOCK
1. If you’ve marked Maundy Thursday before, what feelings went through
your mind on those occasions? Do you anticipate feeling the same feelings
or different ones this year?
2. If you attend worship tonight, try to completely empty yourself and giving
your undivided attention to the liturgy and God’s presence.
40 41
Good Friday
COLLECT
Almighty God, we pray you graciously to behold this your family,
for whom our Lord Jesus Christ was willing to be betrayed, and
given into the hands of sinners, and to suffer death upon the
cross; who now lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one
God, for ever and ever. Amen.
READINGS:
ISAIAH 52:13-53:12; PSALM 22; HEBREWS 10:16-25
OR HEBREWS 4:14-16; 5:7-9; JOHN 18:1-19:42
THE IDENTITY OF THE SLAIN
by Katerina Katsarka Whitley
After listening to the achingly beautiful words of Second Isaiah, to
the despair of Psalm 22, and the mournful solemnity of St. John’s
remembrance of the saddest night in Jesus’ and his disciples’ lives,
we wonder: What more can a sermon add?
The Old Testament lesson comes from the segment that is called
Second Isaiah, and the verses from chapters 52 and 53 are known
as the Fourth Servant Song. A litany of adjectives stays in the
mind from this magnicent Servant Song:
“Wounded.”
“Despised.”
“Rejected.”
“Bruised.”
“Crushed.”
“Oppressed.”
And “aficted,” among many other descriptions of defeat. No
matter who the Suffering Servant was in the mind of the writer/
prophet, all of these apply to Jesus of Nazareth after his arrest.
It was Jesus himself who took the mantle of the suffering servant
upon himself, knowing who he was and knowing what was to
come as a result of his being the incarnate Son.
St. John adds more qualities on the torn shoulders of the
prisoner: Jesus’ great courage when they come to arrest him,
and he confronts them. “Whom are you looking for?” and when
they answer, “Jesus of Nazareth,” they can’t believe him, because
they are not used to persons who are hunted willing to tell the
truth. Jesus answers with the great I AM of the eternal Christ.
“I am he.”
This courage is followed by his shining integrity that nothing can
compromise; a frightened Pilate before such a defendant asks
repeatedly, “Are you a king?” and Jesus answers, “You say that
I am.”
Add to that his erce truth-telling. “Why do you ask?” he
demands of Annas when the latter questions him about his
teaching. “I have said nothing in secret.”
And near the end of the torturous night when Pilate claims his
own authority to have Jesus put to death, the prisoner reveals the
terrible knowledge to which he has submitted with humility and
utter obedience: “You would have no power over me had it not
been given to you from above.”
42 43
It is my beloved Father who is allowing this humiliation, he is
saying; my God who lets these uncouth soldiers spit on me and
strike me. It is the One who loves me who permits them to
put the heavy cross on my bleeding shoulders, the means of my
terrible death. Knowing all this, he never doubts that his Father
loves him. We receive here only a glimpse of the true Suffering
Servant—not an imaginary one.
Now let’s look at the others: the ones who think they have power
over him; and then at the ones who love him.
We have already seen a frightened Pilate who is worried that this
innocent man may have some hidden agenda as a king of another
realm. What would Caesar say? What would Caesar do to me
if I did the wrong thing? We hear his brain asking questions that
reect on himself alone. Pilate was a Roman; we can say that he
didn’t know any better, that he didn’t know of a God of justice
and mercy. But Annas knew. He had been the high priest, as his
son-in-law Caiaphas was the current high priest. They had been
steeped in the Hebrew Scriptures. They claimed the God of
Moses and the prophets as their own. They served as both clergy
and politicians and, like many similar ofcials in our world, they
had compromised everything they had known about their God in
order to do the will of evil men. St. John writes this as an aside,
to identify Caiaphas, but this has become throughout eternity the
quality of the person who betrays God: “Caiaphas was the one
who had advised the Jews that it was better to have one person
die for the people.” Even if they had recognized who Jesus was,
they ignored the truth, in order to appease their pagan masters
and to secure their own positions and power.
And what of the people, the mob who became inamed by
hatred, even though they had known the love of the one who
cured the sick and blessed the poor? How could they have
forgotten so soon? For answers, we can only turn to our own
time; the supreme hypocrisy is revealed when the accusers bring
Jesus to Pilate: “They themselves did not enter the headquarters,
so as to avoid ritual delement and to be able to eat the
Passover.” Yes, of course. As long as we go to church and show
the world that we are good people, we can do whatever we want
to others, even put them to death...
Yes. We cringe at such a realization. We read the morning news
and weep. But then we remember Peter. Peter who loved his
teacher, Peter who had tried to defend him, Peter who had
forbidden him from talking about death. Ah, Peter. We see
ourselves in you. “One of the slaves of the high priest, a relative
of the man whose ear Peter had cut off, asked, ‘Did I not see
you in the garden with him?’ Again Peter denied it, and at that
moment the cock crowed.” It was the third time. Peter would
never forget what he did because he, together with the other
disciples, knew the identity of the arrested Jesus. And, afterward,
he spent his life making up for his denial.
What of us? Where do we fall in all these categories of human
strength and frailty? How can we approach this holy hour without
remembering? The writer of the Epistle to the Hebrews reassures
us with these words: “In the days of his esh, Jesus offered up
prayers and supplications, with loud cries and tears, to the one
who was able to save him from death, and he was heard because
of his reverent submission.” With our hearts heavy and our eyes
lled with tears, we can only cry: Kyrie eleison, Christe eleison,
Kyrie eleison. Amen.
Katerina Katsarka Whitley, a native of Thessaloniki, Greece is a long-
term writer for these pages. She worked as diocesan editor in the
Diocese of East Carolina and as the PR & Communication associate
for the then Presiding Bishop’s Fund for World Relief during Bishop
Edmond Browning’s tenure. She is the author of seven books in
circulation and an active public speaker and performer. She lives in
Boone, N.C. where she teaches at Appalachian State University.
44 45
“With our hearts heavy
and our eyes filled with
tears, we can only cry:
Kyrie eleison, Christe
eleison, Kyrie eleison.”
– KATERINA KATSARKA WHITLEY
1. What qualities and attributes of Jesus are highlighted in the sermon as he
faces his arrest, trial, and crucixion?
2. Holy Week can rightfully be a time when we reect on our own
complicity in the betrayal and death of our Lord. But we must also
remember that even the depths of humanity’s worst sins cannot keep
Jesus in the grave. How can you balance these two competing images?
46 47
The Great Vigil of Easter
COLLECT
O God, who made this most holy night to shine with the glory
of the Lord’s resurrection: Stir up in your Church that Spirit of
adoption which is given to us in Baptism, that we, being renewed
both in body and mind, may worship you in sincerity and truth;
through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in
the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
BRIGHT THREADS
by the Rev. D. Rebecca Hansen
A “dramatic” Easter sermon inspired by Mark 16:1-8, as told from the
perspective of Mary Magdalene.
I want to tell you how I found new life in Jesus. I grew up in a
small town called Magdala, a little village in Galilee. I didn’t have
any big dreams of being someone important in the scheme of
history, but that was before I met him… Jesus. I know I am one
of the privileged few to have actually known the rabbi personally
while he walked the earth in the esh. And, since that time, I have
READINGS:
EXODUS 14:10-31; 15:20-21; PSALM 114; ROMANS
6:3-11; MARK 16:1-8
gained something of a reputation. I’m known now simply as “Mary
Magdalene,” but people have often assumed I was a prostitute
and the woman who wiped Jesus’ feet with her own tears. It has
also been assumed that I was the woman caught in adultery. I have
been, for most of history, the example of the ultimate reformed
sinner. Back then, I might have worried about my reputation,
I might have wanted to correct the scholars, leaders, and
theologians, but it’s funny how little most things we now think are
important really matter in the light of eternity.
Does it matter that people assume I was such a great sinner?
No, it doesn’t. Because we are all fallible and we all sin in some
big ways in life, and that’s why the Easter story is so powerful.
That is why knowing Jesus is so powerful. Even back then, when
I would look into his eyes, I knew it didn’t matter what I had
done or what sins I had committed, it didn’t matter that I was a
mere woman of lowly stature, it didn’t matter that I needed to be
healed from the demons that tormented me, it just didn’t matter,
none of it did. Jesus always looked at me, at every one of us, with
eyes that saw beyond the things we judge ourselves on. He saw
straight into my heart, knew everything about me, and loved
me anyway.
How does one respond to such gracious and pure love? I think
perhaps the songwriter in the musical “Jesus Christ Superstar”
had it right in some sense when they put words into my mouth:
“I don’t know how to love him.” How can any of us, limited as
we are, respond to such powerful, unconditional love? I couldn’t.
I didn’t know how. He had healed me completely and saved me
utterly; there was no way to repay that. And the fantastical
imagination of certain authors and movies aside, I really was
given a very special role. I am one of the many bright threads in
the seamless garment of people who make up God’s salvation
history. Anyone can and is called to be a thread in that most
holy, beautiful, festal garment. You can too! You can play a role in
salvation history with me. You only need to heed his call to follow
him. And that is what I did. I followed him and loved him as best
I could.
48 49
My most memorable moment, of course, occurred that rst
Easter morning. We had been so alone, so full of sorrow, grief,
and confusion as Mary, Salome, and I walked silently to the Lord’s
tomb. Nothing could have prepared us for what happened when
we arrived. It was so dramatic. And the tomb was empty! Can
you believe that it was the women who were the rst to be given
the message of the good news of the Resurrection? It wasn’t one
of the men or one of the twelve disciples. It wasn’t even Peter.
It was the women! And it was me! I was commissioned to be
not just a disciple, and not just an apostle. I was commissioned
to be an apostle to the apostles. Jesus, in his mercy and grace,
deemed me worthy of this role, even as God had deemed Mary
of Nazareth worthy of her role to be the God-bearer and
mother to God’s Son. The fact that this was my role, my great
commission, to go and tell the disciples the Good News about
the Resurrection, says nothing of me in an ultimate sense, but it
says everything about God. God chooses us, no matter what we
may have done, for God’s glory. Perhaps we think our mistakes or
sins are too great, too much, or too frequent to be of any use to
God. But that’s just our pride, thinking we can somehow earn our
own place in salvation history based on how good we are. We are
given the honor, simply because God is gracious and loves us.
Of course, fear and doubt were our rst responses to this
shocking event, even in the midst of our intense amazement.
And perhaps it was self-doubt most of all: Could I have really
witnessed this miracle and been commissioned to preach the
Good News that Jesus had risen from the dead? I didn’t feel
worthy of such a calling. But God was transforming me, just as
God would transform the disciples and all of Jesus’ followers, just
as God transforms you. Soon my fear gave way to hope and faith,
and then I was empowered for the next step of my calling as a
follower of Jesus.
Easter is and will always be about new life. Death has been
destroyed, the power of sin no longer enslaves us, and forgiveness
is ours! The earth shook and God moved and raised up Jesus, the
rst fruits, the promise of our own resurrection.
The Resurrection is not only a promise to be redeemed after
death, however. Resurrection and new life can happen here and
now, today. Every time we struggle and manage to choose the
good, or embrace healing rather than growing cold and bitter,
every time we learn from our mistakes, forgive our enemies,
forgive ourselves, seek out justice and mercy, and reach out to
those in need, we are living out that promise of resurrection, of
new beginnings, and of new life. Resurrection is ours!
I found new life the moment Jesus came into my life. I was never
the same. I was a healed and changed woman. I found new life
again when I was commissioned that Easter morning and realized
that Jesus really was the One we had been waiting for, and that
sin and death had been conquered in him. I found new life again
when I passed from this life into the next. And I will nd new life
once more at the resurrection, when all God’s saints, those bright
threads of salvation history, arise together!
Blessed be God, the King of the Universe. May new life be yours
this Easter because Christ is risen! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
The Rev. D. Rebecca Hansen is the rector of St. Dunstan’s Episcopal
Church in San Diego and is the Diocesan Ecumenical and Interreligious
Ofcer for the Episcopal Diocese of San Diego. She has served faith
communities in Oregon, Missouri, Michigan, and Ohio. She discovered
her call to ministry while serving as a missionary in Chiang Mai,
Thailand, as a young adult. She shares her life with her husband, three
children, and their multiple furbabies.
50 51
“Easter is and will always be
about new life. Death has
been destroyed, the power
of sin no longer enslaves us,
and forgiveness is ours! The
earth shook and God moved
and raised up Jesus, the first
fruits, the promise of our
own resurrection.”
– THE REV. D. REBECCA HANSEN
1. Resurrection and new life are not only future promises but can also be
experienced in the present through transformative actions and choices.
When have you experienced resurrection and new life?
2. What are some symbols or signs of new life around you?
52 53
That is the proclamation of this singular, eternal day, when the
dawn kisses the darkness and wipes away its tears. As sunlight
pours itself out into the morning sky, so has the Son of God
poured out his fullness, so that in the light of this impossible,
wondrous moment, we might nally perceive his purpose.
For Jesus, who is Love Incarnate, has been resurrected, or rather,
he IS the resurrection, as he once told a grieving Martha, and so
now this Love eneshed that is also the Resurrection of the esh
stands before us, not the nale of a single hero’s journey but the
reshaping of creation’s shared journey: to discover that we are
loved and that what is loved is resurrected.
It was not always evident to us that this would be so.
We have traveled a long way to get to this morning. Outward
from the original, creative tension between chaos and genesis;
outward from the garden of Eden; across a thousand wildernesses
of yearning and temptation; traveling along the river and through
the turbulent seas, as we have traveled, humanity has sought the
one thing it could never satisfy in and of itself: a solution to the
seemingly impermanent union of materiality and affection. That
what we love...dies.
This has been the curse, the bitten, bitter fruit of inescapable
insight: that even if our love—for God, for neighbor, for earth,
for self—somehow manages to endure, our bodies and the
work of our hands do not. We are burdened with the
degeneration of even our purest efforts, our most precious
bonds. The inescapable presence of death has driven the world
mad with grief, desperate with the longing for something other
than goodbye.
But today, in the strange light of Easter morning, a miracle takes
place, and not just the one you are thinking of.
No, the rst miracle is this: that a disciple, Mary Magdalene,
carrying the vast pain of all creation in her heart, comes to the
tomb of God, the graveside of all hope, and looks into the void…
and yet refuses to yield her love to it. She refuses, there, despite
Easter Day
COLLECT
O God, who for our redemption gave your only-begotten Son to
the death of the cross, and by his glorious resurrection delivered
us from the power of our enemy: Grant us so to die daily to sin,
that we may evermore live with him in the joy of his resurrection;
through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with
you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
READINGS:
ACTS 10:34-43 OR ISAIAH 25:6-9; PSALM 118:1-2,
14-24; 1 CORINTHIANS 15:1-11 OR ACTS 10:34-43;
JOHN 20:1-18 OR MARK 16:1-8
WHAT IS LOVED IS RESURRECTED
by the Rev. Phil Hooper
What is loved is resurrected.
54 55
ultimately restore all life back to its source. And if she does, then
so can we.
What you need to know is this: the Resurrection of Jesus is not a
remote story of a bygone moment; it is a statement about what
is true for you and for me and for everyone who is still navigating
that long and often wearisome journey in search of something
other than goodbye. For everyone who struggles to love; for
everyone who has loved and lost; for everyone who feels confused
about what love even is: Easter Day is the answer.
What is loved, however imperfectly, for however long, is
resurrected.
This is what the risen body of Christ signies and enacts: that
what is loved is not lost to you, and it will live forever, not only as
a memory but in its fullness.
And, as Mary discovered, what you choose to love in this world
is imbued with eternity by the very act of loving it. Every time
you have gently kissed a soft cheek or held a calloused hand.
Every time you have refused to break a bruised reed or trample
a fragile spirit. Every time you have preserved the hope of the
poor, or sought beauty, or made peace. Every time you have done
these things, you have partaken in the ultimate resurrection of
the world, for what is loved—by you, by God, by God working
through you—is resurrected.
Why and how is this so? How can Easter be what it is?
the death of Love itself, to give up the love she carries. She keeps
that love alive in her broken heart. And so, on behalf of all of us,
she comes to bear witness and to tend to God’s broken body
when no one else is able or willing to do so because she knows
that bearing witness and tending to what is broken is what love
looks like, both in life and in death.
And then, in this moment of miraculous tenderness and strength,
she is given to behold a new miracle:
That what is loved is resurrected.
Mary did not resurrect Jesus, of course—the upwelling, earth-
sustaining, heaven-rending power of the living God did that—but
it is also true that this very same divine, undying love coursed
through her veins and animated her soul and carried her to the
tomb that day. It was God’s love, it was God’s own heart, in and
with and through the heart of Mary Magdalene, who also wept
beside the empty tomb, God weeping with her and with us for the
senselessness of separation, weeping for that same long journey
out of Eden, across the wilderness, through the seas, searching for
a perfect union of materiality and affection—a journey that God
made, too, right beside us, step by weary step.
And so, while Mary did not resurrect Jesus, we can say that she
carried that resurrecting love within herself, that she was an agent
of and a participant in its surprising, vivifying force, and that she
partook, in that moment of the very power that will, indeed,
56 57
have allowed generations to endure and ourish despite hardship
and disappointment and violence. We will notice how there is,
in fact, something deeper than just human longing that propels
us across the wilderness and through the sea—that our daily
choices to seek, to hope, to dream, and to try are not, in fact,
futile endeavors—they are fertile ones. Like Mary in the garden,
our determination to love is the embodiment of the very same
mysterious force that compels life to spring forth from the earth.
For what is loved is resurrected.
Just like Jesus. And just like you.
The Rev. Phil Hooper serves as rector of Saint Anne Episcopal Church,
West Chester, in the Diocese of Southern Ohio. He is a contributor to
several Episcopal publications and a board member of the Center for
Deep Green Faith. His sermons and other writings can be found at
www.byanotherroad.com.
We cannot explain it. We need not explain it. Because neither can
we really explain our compulsion to love, even in the face of loss
and uncertainty, and yet we simply do. Love is its own answer to
the questions we ask. And resurrection is the same. Jesus emerges
from the fading night, calling Mary by name, calling you by name, to
conrm what you already knew in your bones but dared not trust:
that love is worth the cost, it is worth having to say goodbye,
because there is indeed, something other than goodbye at the
end of the story, something that will feel like the place where
beginnings and endings meet, where, forever, the dawn kisses the
darkness and wipes away its tears.
So, the good news of Easter, that what is loved is also resurrected,
means that our task on this day and every day is like Mary’s. We
must go out into the world, to the gravesides and the gardens
and those places where they collide, with the intention of nding
miracles, and of being a miracle too—a miracle of love incarnate,
the sort that refuses to yield to despair, even as it grieves. The
sort of love that bears witness and tends to what is broken, even
if we fear, sometimes, that all is lost. The sort of love that chooses
to do so anyway.
And as we do so, it is possible that a strange thing will happen,
that a strange new Easter light will bathe our vision. We will begin
to notice others around us choosing to do the same thing—to
love with persistence. We will notice all of the small gestures
of care that keep the world going, all the hidden sacrices that
58 59
“This is what the risen body
of Christ signifies and
enacts: that what is loved is
not lost to you, and it will
live forever, not only as a
memory but in its fullness.”
– THE REV. PHIL HOOPER
1. What does the resurrection of Jesus Christ mean for your life?
2. Hope is a theme throughout Holy Week. Howe can you live a more
hopeful life starting now?
Episcopal
THE CHURCH
Sermons for Holy Week and Easter 2024:
An offering of the Episcopal Church’s Sermons That Work
To nd your nearest Episcopal Church, please visit the
Episcopal Asset Map at episcopalassetmap.org.
Visit Sermons That Work at sermonsthatwork.com to nd
sermons, Bible studies, bulletin inserts, and other free
resources for your congregation.
For more information, please contact:
Christopher Sikkema
Project Manager
The Episcopal Church Ofce of Communication
csikkema@episcopalchurch.org
Published by the Ofce of Communication of
The Episcopal Church, 815 Second Avenue,
New York, N.Y. 10017
©2024 The Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society of the
Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America.
All rights reserved.
