He is Risen

Even in the relatively free-form worship of my local congregation, there's at least one liturgical habit we've picked up that I'll hear this Easter Sunday:

Call: He is risen.

Response: He is risen indeed!

He is risen. I love this phrase, not only because it is a biblically-based and ecumenically-received statement of praise, but also because it is loaded with theological meaning. Attention to the details of this simple statement can serve to unpack the meaning and significance of Easter. Let's attend to each word in this phrase to see what lessons we can learn and what mistakes we can avoid.

He is risen.

The first thing to note is who is risen: it is none other than Jesus Christ. He is risen, not someone else. The one who is found walking and talking with his disciples in Jerusalem is the one and the same Jesus who had walked and talked with them in his years of ministry in Galilee. Although he has undergone a radical transformation of his being, he is still one and the same Jesus Christ. There is continuity of identity even in the midst of the surprising discontinuity of resurrected flesh from ordinary flesh. This continuity of identity is emphasized in the New Testament Easter narratives. Jesus repeatedly offers signs that he is who he is. The implication for us is that Easter is first and foremost about Jesus before its about anyone else.

This emphasis on the identity of the risen one wards off the mistake of making resurrection about someone other than Jesus. For instance, we must be careful to not cheapen the meaning of resurrection by attributing it to any "rise" of faith, hope or love among human beings. This danger is especially present for preachers, who in our search for illustrations and analogies sometimes draw attention away from the risen Lord Jesus Christ. If not the rest of the year, at least on Easter we should be careful to remember that we are called to talk about Jesus.

By turning our attention to Jesus, we are reminded that the future hopes of humanity are now tied up with this one man. Christians don't believe in life after death; Christians believe in Christ, who has been risen from the dead and is Lord over death. Only by hoping in him may we hope for eternal life through him. Jesus is not just "the only way to heaven." Jesus is heaven. In him alone is found eternal life. And at Easter we do not proclaim resurrection in general but the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

He is risen.

A unique contribution of this liturgical phrase to theological discourse is its present tense verb. The equivalent biblical phrase is often found in the past tense: "he had risen." Now the past tense is definitive in this case: the resurrection of Christ is something that happened, an event in history, an event in the past. But the risen Christ is not trapped in the past! If so, that would undermine the significance of Easter. You see, Jesus was not raised from the dead only to die again. In his healing ministry, Jesus raised many to life who would later die. But the New Testament consistently proclaims that Jesus has been raised from the dead to never die again. And so he not only has risen, but he is risen. Thus the message of Easter contains the good news of the continuing presence of our Lord Jesus Christ.

This emphasis on the present tense is an important counter-weight to any fascination with proving the resurrection of Jesus. Whether or not the resurrection of Jesus can be or should be proved by historical reason is a discussion for another time. The question I want to raise concerns the rhetorical effect of such proofs. Could it be that the language of historical evidence tends to lock our attention on the past event and perhaps distract us from attending to the living Lord? I do not wish to prejudice the answer to this question, but merely to recommend careful consideration of potential unintended consequences in our mode of presenting the gospel.

An emphasis on the present tense, provided it is grounded in the singular identity of Jesus Christ, serves as a bridge to the "relevance" of the Easter message. If we treat Easter as a distant history that requires our hermeneutical and homiletical endeavors to bring it into the present, we have already undermined the Lordship of Christ made manifest at Easter. The relevance of Jesus is already established from his side, as he is the contemporary of each and the Lord of all. The question is our relevance to him. Is our identity wrapped up with his or not? That is the question. We must reckon with Jesus at Easter, because he is risen.

He is risen.

It is crucially importantly that the apostolic witnesses almost never say, "He is alive!" This, of course, would be an eminently true statement, and the word "life" plays an important role in the theology of the New Testament. But the consistent refrain is that Jesus is risen. What is the significance of this word choice? The language of "risen" Christ points back to the death of Christ: one is risen from something -- in this case, from the dead. Jesus Christ is risen as the crucified one. His death is not a mere ordeal through which he passed. Crucifixion is not a means to resurrection, or a stage along the way. No! The crucified one is risen. The humble one is exalted without leaving behind the marks of his humility. The Lamb is seated on the throne.

Jesus' resurrection from the dead is an important reminder to not use the triumph of Easter Sunday to obscure the significance of Good Friday. We might be tempted to think Jesus exchanged his cross for a crown, when in fact his crown of thorns was his coronation. On the cross Jesus Christ really did reconcile the world to God. On the cross Jesus Christ was lifted up. On the cross Jesus Christ finished his work. Does this make the resurrection an afterthought? Certainly not! For in the resurrection, Jesus Christ comes to us to bring the reconciliation achieved by his obedient life-unto-death into our lives. The reconciliation achieved in his death does not stay his private property but becomes his shared inheritance with us in his resurrection from the dead. This deep interconnection between crucifixion and resurrection must be kept in mind so that we avoid overemphasis in either direction.

Some preachers might complain that so many attend Easter services that are not involved in Good Friday services or some other cross-centered Holy Week event. Although this limited liturgical participation is a serious matter to be addressed, the fact is that the message of Easter contains within it the message of cross. He is risen, risen from the dead, risen from his death of the cross, which reconciles us to God. From this very particular and significant death, Jesus has been raised.

He is risen.

He is risen indeed.

Any thoughts?
_

Christmas Connections Preaching

I've begun to notice a pattern. Most of the Christmas sermons I've heard (and preached) in the last few years went out of their way to make a connection between Christmas and something else. Christmas and the life of Christ. Christmas and the expectation of Israel. Christmas and the Cross. Christmas and Easter. Christmas and the Holy Spirit. Christmas and the Christian life. Christmas and ...

The great thing about these "Christmas connections" is that it keeps things interesting. New insights are brought in. Deep Biblical themes are interwoven. We avoid repeating the same thing every year. The one sermon heard by the most people in a congregation is probably the Christmas sermon. Attendance is up: the regulars are there, family is in town, the fringe folk come out of the woodwork, and guests abound. Because of this, we preachers are understandably worried about repetition. We don't want to preach the "same old Christmas sermon" every year. So Christmas connections keep everybody on their toes.

However, I am beginning to ask myself whether this habit has an unintended and unfortunate side effect: preaching Christmas connections gives the impression that Christmas is not interesting enough on its own. If we must speak of "Christmas and ...", what does that tell us about the significance of Christmas itself? Why can't we just speak of Christmas ... period? Why can't we just remind ourselves that one day God became human and that in itself is a pretty big deal. Sure, that is not the whole Christian story. But this important part gets its own day, and maybe we should give it proper attention.

I do not wish to reject Christmas connections preaching. I practice them and appreciate hearing them. But I do want to identify this possible danger. Even as we seek to interweave Christmas into the larger tapestry of belief, let us be sure keep the main thing the main thing.

Keeping this possible danger in mind, I would love to hear back from you what Christmas connections you heard or preached this year.

Any thoughts?
What connections have you heard or made?
Were they fitting or forced?
Did they illumine Christmas or distract from it?

Specialized Ministry with Eyes Wide Open: A Sermon on Acts 6:1-10

Just this morning I preached the following sermon at Princeton Seminary Chapel.

Scripture Reading: Acts 6:1-10

Apparently this summer is not the first time Hebrews and Greeks have been found in competition with each other. Although this summer’s competition [Ultimate Frisbee tourney between Hebrew and Greek summer class] is significant as a Herculean clash for the honor of victory, the clash in our text is a matter of life and death. As this early chapter in the story of the church shows, cultural favoritism endangered the very livelihood of certain Jewish widows who had the unfortunate position of being Hellenized. And since Luke has an irenic tendency – telling the story of the early church in the best light possible – we can only imagine how bad the conflict got before the apostles stepped in to defend the needy. This is a serious problem that demands a serious solution.

What was their solution? They did what any administrative body would do: delegate. They took the problem seriously yet realized that they could not fix it by themselves. The problem required special attention from specially appointed leaders. So the community elected its first deacons – those set apart for the specialized ministry of helping the poor and needy. Thus begins the great churchly tradition of specialized ministry.

This notion of different ministers being called to different tasks is so often taken for granted by us ministers that we might miss its significance. God has gifted us in different ways. To announce to your family and friends that you are “called to the ministry” and “going to seminary” could mean all sorts of things today. I remember the first time I told an old friend from high school that I was going to seminary. “What? You in seminary? I just don’t see it.” Some of you have received the same reaction from your friends or even your family. We try to explain that we have been called to something specific: youth ministry, pastoral counseling, the mission field, academic research, religious art. But sometimes it is hard to convince them that ministry is more than lofty pulpits, big black bibles, gray hair and dark suits. Today’s text has a liberating message: ministry takes on all kinds of forms, and being called to the ministry looks different for each of us.

But wait. There’s a little twist in the story that we must be careful not to miss. Luke takes great care to list the names of each of the seven deacons chosen by the community and blessed by the apostles. Now, on the surface, Luke wants you to notice their Greeks names. These Hellenized Jews are perfectly fit for the diaconal care of Hellenized widows. But Luke, the master story-teller, is also foreshadowing later events by introducing a number of key characters. Immediately following this story is the story of Stephen. This man, who was called to the specialized ministry of the diaconate so that the apostles can focus on their preaching, is found in the synagogue … preaching. Apparently the Holy Spirit is not constrained by the boundaries of specialized ministries.

This little twist ought to serve as a warning against treating our specialized callings as absolute. The same Holy Spirit who gifts us for our current ministry has the freedom and power to gift us for a radically different form of ministry. Our responsibility is to be open to these other forms while we train for our specialization. What does this look like? Well, it certainly places a moratorium on lines like these: “I don’t need to learn Hebrew verb forms; I’m going to be a chaplain;” “I don’t need systematic theology; I’m going to be a youth pastor;” “I don’t need to pay attention in preaching class; I am going to be a professor.”

I know that I came here with blinders on, trying to turn my M.Div. into an M.A. in Theology. I am so thankful for that lunchtime acquaintance who said to me, “Oh, you will make a great pastor.” Those affirming words late in my Junior year opened my eyes to the pastoral training I was trying to avoid. As it turns out, I am going to be ordained this Sunday. I am still training for my specialized calling; but I am trying to be open to whatever kind of ministry the Spirit may call me.

Many other stories can be added to mine: Ron came here to study Hebrew Bible and is now a pastor in Trenton. Sarah had her sights on an academic career until a CPE transformed her and led her into chaplaincy. Mike came here to train for youth ministry, got a Ph.D. in theology along the way, and is now a full-time youth pastor. So, as we hear the liberating message of specialized ministry from Acts 6, let’s makes sure we keep our eyes and hearts open to wherever the Spirit leads. For “there are different kinds of gifts, but the same Spirit. There are different kinds of service, but the same Lord. There are different kinds of working, but the same God works all of them in all.” (I Corinthians 12:4-6). Amen.

Any thoughts?
Do you have any stories of the Spirit's freedom to add?
Any insights on the passage that I've not mentioned?
How can we best hold in tension a confidence in our call and openness to new leadings?