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Resurrection of the Lord (C) | 31-Mar-13 Acts 10.34-43 | 1 Corinthians 15.19-26 | Luke 24.1-12 It’d been three days.  But the terrifying images were still clear in their minds.  The horror of Friday was still all too near: the mocked, beaten, bloody, and nail-pierced horror of their beloved teacher and friend hanging—suffocating to death—on a rugged, wooden cross.  Emotionally spent and physically exhausted, it took all the strength they could muster just to rise that morning.  But they did.  At dawn, the women rose—among them Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Joanna—and made their way to the tomb, carrying “the spices that they had prepared” [1] to anoint his body: to give him a proper burial, to offer him one final honor. They froze in their tracks.  The Magdalene’s basket slipped from her hands and fell to the earth, saturating the dust with oil and perfume.  The women stood aghast at what they beheld: the stone had been m...

In preparation for this week’s message, I’ve been considering Jesus’ parables from the fifteenth chapter of St. Luke’s gospel—particularly that of the prodigal son.  My life and ministry have always been oddly connected to this narrative for a number of reasons—not the least of which is it’s the text I used to preach my first sermon.  I don’t remember much about that offering, other than it was quite short (I believe about seven or eight minutes) and followed the standard “as the son strayed from his father, so we’ve all strayed from God/as the father welcomes him back, so God welcomes us back” model.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that; it’s a perfectly legitimate reading of the parable, I think, because it’s true: God does welcome us back, time and again, though we’re prone to wander. But as I re-read the story, I encountered some of its words in ways I previously hadn’t.   Toward the end, as we know, the wayward son returns.   And the elder son, inc...

Repentance.  It’s a central word in the Christian faith.   The idea’s present from the very first verses of the earliest-written gospel, with a camel hair-clad preacher “proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” [1]   Especially during this present season of Lent, the call seems to pop up time and again: in our liturgies, in our prayers, and in our hymnody, we’re over and over beckoned to repent. And the scripture readings for the third Sunday in Lent are no exception.   A common thread of the human being’s need for repentance is clearly traceable throughout—from the prophet’s admonition to the wicked to “forsake their way” and “return to the Lord ,” [2] to St. Paul’s caution against desiring (craving, lusting after) evil. Yet the call to repent is possibly nowhere clearer than in the gospel lesson.  Jesus, speaking with some folks about persons who’d been tragically killed, puts the question to his listeners: Do you think their fate...