Easter Sunday | April 5th, 2026 | The Rev. Jim Friedrich

When Jesus rose from the dead, why did he appear to his disciples? Why did he hang around for 40 days instead of proceeding immediately to the Ascension? We might imagine him washing his hands of the whole earth and mortality thing, putting it behind him like one of those terrible trips to a place we never want to go back to again.

But instead of pulling away, he came back to get his friends. He wasn’t going to go off by himself into God’s glorious future without bringing them along. On the night before he died, he promised, “I go to prepare a place for you.” And when he had passed through death into the risen life, he came back to get his friends, and he keeps coming back, for you, and me, and everyone else who wants to share in the abundant life of God.

Many Christian paintings of the resurrection show a solitary Jesus rising out of the tomb, stepping out of the tomb. No one else around except maybe some soldiers, but they’re sleeping through it, they miss it. But the orthodox icon for the resurrection always has Jesus reaching back and pulling Adam and Eve out of the grave with him, and by implication all the rest of us as well. He’s pulling them into the new creation where the tears will be wiped from every eye, where sorrow and sighing are no more, but only life everlasting.

The Anglican poet-priest George Herbert put this into words. “Rise, heart, thy Lord is risen. Sing Christ’s praises without delays, who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise mayest rise.” That’s the truth we sing today, that’s the joy we share this happy morning.

Sometimes the Easter preacher feels the urge to explain the mystery of the resurrection as if it were a puzzle to be solved. If we could just get enough clues, we could crack the case and bring everything to light. We’d know whether the resurrection was physical, spiritual, metaphorical, or all of the above. We’d know whether the scriptural witnesses can be believed. We’d know what actually happened to Jesus and whether it’s true that death is conquered and we’re free and Christ hath won the victory. The skeptics could be vanquished along with our own doubts and we could finally relax about our own fate as mortals.

But the best mysteries are not to be solved, but to be celebrated. And the wise preacher will heed the words of a sign I saw many years ago in Jerusalem, posted at the ancient church, in the Garden of Gethsemane, right over the entrance. The sign said, “No explanations inside the church.” That was just a way of warning tour guides to keep quiet when they brought their groups into the church so they wouldn’t disturb the silence and peace of that holy place. But I think the sign delivers good advice to all of us; “no explanations inside the church.” We’re not here on Easter morning to explain anything. We’re here to shout, “Alleluia, Christ is risen!” until our throats wear out. If you have a voice left at the end of the Triduum and Easter Sunday, you haven’t sung hard enough. I love to hear people really sing!

Christ has broken the bonds of death and hell, delivering the faithful from the gloom of sin and restoring us to the life we were made for. Last night at the Easter Vigil, we completed the great 3-day journey at the Triduum. Over 3 successive nights, some of us made the immense pilgrimage from darkness into light, from death into resurrection, from the upper room to the empty tomb. The Triduum is the molten core of our worship life, engaging our whole selves in an embodied immersion in the Paschal mystery of Christ rising and dying. It’s such a powerful experience, like nothing else in this church. It’s where we do our richest liturgy and best theology, and at the end, last night, we were all a little dazed with the wonder of it. When you have such an intense and transformative experience, it’s easy to lament its passing! As though, we were at the resurrection, but now it’s behind us. But the resurrection is never an ending, it’s always a beginning. My father was a priest who made films as his ministry. He made a feature film in the 1950s that told the story of Christ and ended with the resurrection, but instead of “the end” it said, “this was the beginning.”

I remember this particular Easter vigil about 40 years ago in southern California. It started about 9pm, finished at 1am. We really did it up. All the Old Testament stories were creatively dramatized by the people in the parish, and there were fireworks at the Easter acclamation of “Christ is Risen!”, seen through glass walls all around, singing Alleluia through colored points of fire. When the service was over at 1 am, we had the big parish annual party of the year. It went until about 3 in the morning, feasting and dancing. Sometimes the police would come because we were too loud at 2 in the morning. But that particular year when the last celebrants had departed, I walked into the enclosed Spanish courtyard and there was a fountain in the middle, splashing in the light of the Paschal moon, which was full overhead. I went into the church where hundreds of candles were burning their silent Easter praises. It was so beautiful, I sat down on the steps by the altar and watched the moonlight coming through and the candles burning. Then dawn started to come and the rosy dawn light mixed with the moonlight. I lingered there so long because it was all too beautiful, but also because I didn’t wan the resurrection to end. I was bathing in the wonder of it. But at last, mindful of the 8 o’clock mass still rapidly approaching, I took my leave to get a quick nap. As I turned my car out into the street, I was given one last gift; the sight of hundreds of luminaria that were burning in front of the church and along the walkway to the entrance. I just slowed down, drove slowly, and I could see those candles in my rearview mirror, growing smaller and smaller, receding into the past. For a moment, I felt a little sad. A powerful experience of the resurrection was now something behind me, but then I remembered; Christ always goes before us. He will meet us there, up ahead in the next moment, the next person, the next story. Sometimes we don’t have the eyes to see at the moment, maybe only in reflection, but if we’re in a moment of grace, we do realize we’re in the presence of the risen Christ, the new life, resurrection. That’s what I love about today’s gospel, one of my favorite stories. You know, Mary doesn’t … she hears a voice behind her, because she has to turn around to see who she thinks is the gardener, and still she doesn’t recognize Jesus yet, until, what happens? He speaks her name: “Mary”. Then she knows. The stranger who knows you by heart, and that’s what happened in that moment.

So the resurrection isn’t about folded grave cloths and an empty tomb, it’s not even about a bright shining figure in our rearview mirror, receding further and further from us with each passing century. Resurrection is the mystery of Christ’s abiding presence. Resurrection means, “I will keep coming back. My story is never over.” And that means your story is never over either, you who are in Christ.

Over the 50 days of Eastertide, there will be time for thoughtful conversation and reflection about the mystery of the risen Christ and the great rising to new life that really desires to include all of us, but for now, I’ll simply conclude by plagiarizing the words of another Paschal homily, delivered in Constantinople over 16 centuries about, by St. John Chrysostom. This homily is so good that they still preach it every Easter in the orthodox churches verbatim. And at the end, I’ll just read you some of it, but I’ll invite you at the end to join in with a hearty response to the Easter acclamation, which will be, “The Lord is risen indeed.”

Let us all enter into the joy of the Lord, first and last alike receive your reward, rich and poor, sing and dance together, you that have kept the feast and you that have not, rejoice today for the table is richly laden. The feast is ready; come and enjoy it. The calf is a fat one; let no one go away hungry. Share the cup of faith. Enjoy the rich flavors of divine goodness. No more bewailing your failings; forgiveness has risen from the grave. No more fears of your dying; the death of our Savior has set us free from fear. He has destroyed death by enduring it. Isaiah foretold this when he said, “Death was angered when it met you in the pit.” It was angered for it was defeated, it was angered for it was mocked, it was angered for it was abolished, it was angered for it was bound in chains. Death swallowed a body and met God face to face. It took earth and encountered heaven. It took what it saw and was overcome by what it could not see. Oh death, where is your sting? Oh death, where is your victory? Christ is risen and you are overthrown; Christ is risen and demons are scattered; Christ is risen and the angels rejoice; Christ is risen and life reigns; Christ is risen and no one remains in the tomb. Christ is risen indeed from the dead, the first of all who had fallen asleep. Glory and power to Christ for ever and ever. Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed.