Homily, Great Vigil

We are in the dark. We don’t know when this thing will end. We don’t know if we or people we love will become ill. We don’t know who is telling the truth.

We are in the dark and we need the light of Christ.

This year, more than ever, we need Easter.

In Ezekiel’s story of the dry bones, we see a valley of death. It is a lifeless place of dry bones, merely the faint memory of life. It feels hopeless. But as soon as God begins to speak, hope is born. Can these bones live? A shocking question that we would not dare to ask. But for God, nothing is impossible, and when God asks the question, we know the answer is yes. Yes, these bones can live. Yes, the darkness will end. Yes, the light of Christ will burn brightly and lead us from the edge of the grave back to life.

Over and over we see in Scripture that God brings life out of death. The people of God are liberated. The desert blooms. The boy Isaac is saved. The bones live. In this challenging time, we are tempted to think only about death. We hear the statistics, the number of those infected, sick, or who have died, and the temptation is to think only about the death. But Easter tells us that death isn’t the end of the story. This pandemic will end and the people of God will come back together to celebrate the life that is God’s free gift to us all. Just as the cathedral lights will come on and the organ start up when the Bishop proclaims Easter, so the lights will some day come back on in the world and life will return to our streets, schools, and industries.

But I dare to hope that it won’t return to normal. Our society had become like a spoiled child, never satisfied with what we had, paying little attention to those who had less, forgetting to take time with our loved ones and putting our own wants ahead of the common good. This time of enforced isolation, of extended time with some family members and cruel separation from others, this time of doing without new clothes, manicures, vacation trips, and parties; this shared experience could redirect us to be more family-oriented, to reprioritize our habits and our spending, to become more aware of the humanity that we share woth every other human being. This time, as hard as it is, could be the salvation of our culture, if it moves us away from the consumerism and toxic politics that have all but destroyed any shared value of community spirit.

My Easter hope this year is that there will be a cultural shift in our world; that, just as the world changed for ever when Jesus rose from the dead, so, when our world rises from its viral sickbed, there will be a new normal, a normal that brings us closer together and enables us to see more clearly the Christ in each other. To see, we need light, and the Paschal Candle reminds us that Jesus Christ is the light of the world. We need the risen Christ to go ahead of us, to lead us from the dark tomb to a new place of light.

The Exsultet hymn calls us to rejoice tonight as the light shines out. For this is the night when everything changes. This is the night when we pass with Christ from darkness to light, from sin to redemption, from death to life. May Christ, the Morning Star who knows no setting, ever burn in our hearts, and may we come to know the full joy of Easter. Amen.

The Great Vigil of Easter, April 11, 2020
TVR Penelope Bridgesv Preached after the Vigil readings

Photoessay: Vergers at the Vigil

If you visit Episcopal Cathedrals around the country, you will find that although we are a relatively small Cathedral, we have a mighty Verger Corps (see here for more about the vergers' roles).  Your vergers are responsible for the smooth running of the service, spending lots of time before, during and after the service, to ensure that what we may call the "choreography" of liturgy occurs seamlessly, with everyone knowing where to go, so that congregants and clergy can be fully immersed in the moment of worship.  Altar Guild is a key part of the "before" and "after", and Acolytes and Thurifer(s) a key part of "during" along with the Ushers.  Easter Vigil is probably our biggest service of the year, so what were your vergers doing? 

Verger meeting at 5pm with the Rev Brooks and Dean Penny, with Canon Verger Lisa
going over the detailed plan (called a "customary")

In the church working with Bishop Katharine and those to be baptised/ confirmed/ recieved
so they know the order of events.  The acolytes are here now.

Reviewing the Customary as the details are worked out (this is what theatre
folk call "blocking")

Verger Don and the Rev Brooks review the customary with Bishop Katharine

The Acolytes have a review with Canon Verger Lisa and the other Vergers

At the Back of the Church reviewing the order for Baptisms

Canon Lisa makes a point

Almost ready for the New Fire!  Verger Stephanie helps Verger Jeff with his celebratory white tie

As the Vigil begins, Canon Lisa monitors the customary

Vergers Stephanie, Jeff, and Cherie share the light, lighting candles along the main aisle

Sub-Verger Daniel holds the aspersorium for Bishop Katharine as she sprinkles Holy Water

There's always something!  Everyone is looking forward but Canon Verger Lisa and
Head Usher Lucinda confer in the back

Vergers read, chalice and do other roles as needed.  Here, Sub-Verger Daniel shares the Cup

And, Verger Stephanie leads the recessional.  Note her virge is upright.

Verger Cherie 

Verger Jeff

Verger Don, who was Bishop Katharine's Chaplain

The Vigil Sermon: Risen to New Life

Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Tonight you may have heard more Scripture read than you have ever heard before in a single worship service. Not only the stories, but the Psalms and canticles, and the prayers drawn from Scripture, all together giving us a rich and full sense of the God who created us, who redeemed us, and who loves us beyond measure.

The Creation, the Red Sea, the Dry Bones are ancient stories but they are still true today. We need to hear them over and over, because they repeat a rhythm, like the heartbeat our faith. All of human history bears the same rhythm of moving from chaos to creation, from death to new life, from sin to redemption. This rhythm, like our heartbeat, tells us that we are alive and that God is alive in us. And this life, this redeemed, renewed, resurrected life is only possible because our God is a God of life, a God of new possibilities, a God of unceasing and unconditional loving-kindness.

The one required Vigil reading from the Hebrew Scriptures is the story of the Exodus. God delivers God´s people from slavery in Egypt to freedom, and demonstrates divine power in simultaneously life-saving and deadly ways. Death and life are held in close tension; both are ever-present in our journey, both corporate and personal. This dramatic story prefigures the resurrection: the situation is dire; there seems to be no way out of certain oblivion. But then God acts in a totally unexpected way and life is restored for those who stay the course.

Tonight the risen Christ lives in us, and he has commissioned us to bring about the kingdom of God on earth. It is up to us to speak out with his voice, to insist on justice, to bridle greed and cleanse corruption, to look beyond our own interests to those of the people who have less than we do. There is no need to fear death, because death has already been transcended and defeated. Easter, as the final chapter in this millennia-long story of salvation, is all we need.

The message of this night is that God is the God of life, not of death. Death is present in our world, but God triumphs and transcends death. The doomed people are saved. The heart of stone is replaced with a heart of flesh. The dry bones are enfleshed and revived. God provides for all in a hostile environment, water in the desert, food for the famished. The God we serve is a God of surprises, of generative power, and of liberating love. God will not allow us to remain in slavery to Pharaoh, whether in the guise of abusive relationships, or complacent churches, or political structures that have become disfunctional, chronic conditions that are broken but not yet painful enough to prompt us to change.

God calls us into the light, to live fully, to risk failure, to discover just how much we can do, with God´s help. To seek and serve Christ in all, to uphold dignity, to strive for justice and peace: these are hard challenges and we are likely to fail. But we can do all things WITH GOD´S HELP, and only with God´s help.

This is the night. This is the night when all these stories, lessons, and promises come together. We hear once more the stories of God´s saving power, We tiptoe once more into the garden at the break of day. We strain our eyes to peer into the darkness of the tomb. We allow ourselves against all odds to feel an overwhelming joy, and to believe that love triumphs over death. We hear the command ¨Do not be afraid¨ and we pledge to live into that admonition. We strive for hope over fear, for love over indifference, for life over death.

Tonight we proclaim a hope of breath-taking audacity: that God is with us, that this world is worth saving, that love is stronger than death. We proclaim a hope for the world, that we also need to hear for ourselves, because in this hope lies a deeply personal yearning: that each one of us is also worth saving, that as broken and smeared with sin as we might be, God has the power to restore us to wholeness.

Our Eucharistic liturgy is the daily bread that nourishes this hope. We re-enact the sacrifice of Jesus each time we gather, in order to remember that we are saved, in order to once again lay down our lives and take up new life in Christ.

The toxic culture, the world of empire and of Pharaoh, will continue to tell us that our options are limited, that we are inadequate to the task of transforming the world. The resurrection of Jesus tells us that God defies all limitations, that life is enriched by endless diversity, that all things are possible with faith. We have only to put away our fear and dare to step out of the grave with Jesus, and, with God´s help, we are reborn into a new way, the way of life, and love, and peace.

Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!

Easter Vigil 2018
The Very Rev Penelope Bridges

The Swan: Vigil Against Conversion Therapy

Our own Rev. Jeff Martinhauk spoke at the Vigil Against Conversion Therapy at St Paul's on Thursday night:


I want to briefly remind you of an old fairy tale by Hans Christian Anderson.

If you remember, this tale starts with a mother duck waiting for her brood to hatch. Each duckling hatches, and the mother ironically chides them to remember the world is much larger and more diverse than they can imagine in their little home.

When the last egg hatches and is a misfit, an ugly duckling, he is an outcast. He endures suffering and abuse at the hands of the other ducks and animals on the farm. Being different is not acceptable. A spiteful duck warns: “He is so big and ugly he must be turned out. I wish his mother could improve him a little.”

The mother tries to make sense of the difference: “He has remained too long in the egg,”she says, “and therefore his figure is not properly formed.” But it is no consolation to the rest of the animals, and the ugly duckling is bitten, and pushed, and made fun of because he is not the same.

He goes through abuse after abuse, and finally leaves his family seeking solace and peace. Time after time the duckling does not fit into what is “normal.” He can’t lay eggs. He can’t behave like a cat. He can’t become a hen. He can’t do anything that the other animals seem to be able to do naturally, despite their attempts to change him into what they believe he should be.

In final despair, he is ready to die. He sees some royal looking birds in the distance. He plans to fly to them, expecting them to spurn him the way he has been spurned all of his life.

He gets to them, and they rush towards him, these beautiful and majestic swans. “Kill me,” cries the ugly duckling. But as he hangs his head down in despair ready to be killed, he catches his own reflection. He is all grown up-- a beautiful and majestic-- dare we say fabulous?- swan, staring back at him. And children come to the pond and throw bread for him to eat, and cry out, “the new swan is the most beautiful of all!” And the old swans bow their heads before him. And the not-so-little-anymore bird says to himself, “I never dreamed of such happiness as this, while I was an ugly duckling.”

http://moshlab.com/swan-rainbow-3d-animal-wallpaper-free-download-1928/

My friends, there are no ugly ducklings. In my tradition, the Christian tradition, it is in the waters of baptism that we claim the fabulousness that was endowed into each of us in our creation, and affirm the fabulousness that is endowed in everyone else too. As the ugly duckling’s mother said, “The world is a very big place.” There is room for all kinds of people.

There are no ugly ducklings. And let me tell you, we have some fabulous swans. And we are here, and we must never forget, that we are here to raise our wings and fly to anybody who doesn’t know yet just how fabulous they are. So let’s keep showing up where those who are outcast and tortured and picked on and told that they don’t belong and who have started to believe it themselves are. It is our job to make sure they know that they are loved and wanted and fit in just as they are, and that they are welcome, no matter what their gender identities, sexual orientations, or how else they don’t fit into somebody else’s ideas and expectations-- because they- we- are beautiful. Thanks be to God.

Easter Vigil Sermon: This is the night

Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!

This is a night unlike any other night. The Exsultet, that Martin sang so beautifully, gives it poetic expression:
       This is the night when God brought our ancestors out of bondage.
       This is the night when all who believe in Christ are restored to grace.
       This is the night when Christ broke the bonds of death and rose victorious from the grave.

Funny thing about those three statements: two are about the past, one is about the present. Tonight we mix up the long ago and far away with the here and now. It's a potent mix.

When I was in grammar school I was taught that it was bad form to mix tenses in a story. Now that I am working on my Spanish, I'm struggling to distinguish correctly between present, praeterite, and imperfect tenses. It doesn't help that sometimes the same word is used for both present and past tense.

But on this night, present and past come together, and we can use the same words, for Christ is risen! On this night, the primordial creation and our rebirth in the Spirit meet in the empty tomb. On this night, we celebrate the awesome power of God's life-giving Spirit, no less active in us today than it was when it moved over the face of the uncreated waters. All of salvation history is collapsed into a single, transformative liturgy as we find our way from the darkness of the grave, even of humanity's very womb, to the light of resurrection and renewal.

In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth ... The great stories of our faith have been told and shared over millennia, but they haven't lost their power. Each story we've heard tonight centers on the same unchanging truth: our God makes promises to us and then delivers on them.

In Genesis, God creates a home for us and promises to provide everything we need.

In the Exodus, God liberates the faithful from captivity and obliterates their enemies. (This story, by the way, contains one of the most sinister promises in all of Scripture. I wonder if you caught it: "The Egyptians whom you see today you will never see again.")

The prophets give us assurance that God's word does not return to God empty but bears fruit, that God will gather us and cleanse us and will be our God no matter what, that God will raise the dead to new life, and that we shall truly live and know that the Lord has spoken and will act.

Those are the ambitious promises that God offers to all of humanity, promises we can trust.

And we see the promises fulfilled tonight. This is the night. The Easter Gospel, as Luke tells it, has the mysterious beings at the tomb - let's just call them angels - ask the women a rhetorical question: "Why seek the living among the dead?" At that moment, those women knew only of death. They had come to perform the heartbreaking task of preparing a body for burial. They were deep in grief and shock. They weren't looking for life. So it took them a little while to grasp that something amazing had happened. It took the angels saying, remember what he told you. And as they remembered, they began to understand. They took the step from despair to hope. They stepped from the darkness into the light. And then they went to rejoin the living; and they shared what they were realizing with their friends. It was a process, not a moment.

And, just as it was for the women, so it was for the men. They too had to make the journey from disbelief to faith. First, they had to move beyond their own automatic dismissal of the women's story. It seemed to them an idle tale. Well, what do you expect from a bunch of silly women? After all, women didn't even count as valid witnesses in court. They were so insignificant that they could weep over the body of an executed criminal and then go out in public without fear of being recognized and arrested, because they were functionally invisible. The male disciples, represented by Peter, had to see the empty tomb for themselves before they would believe.

And what they came to believe, was that God's promises to humanity, made in creation, in liberation, in exile, in Word bearing fruit and in mighty act reviving a people, all those promises had been fulfilled, once for all, in the resurrection of Jesus of Nazareth from the dead.

This isn't just a story that happened long ago and far away. It's a story that continues to be told and to be true in the lives of faithful people today. Why seek the living among the dead? Too often we find ourselves living among the dead, clinging to dead ways of being, worn-out ways of relating to one another, lifeless idols of security and success, when we only have to look up from the grave to discover that God is offering us life, a life more abundant than any story can describe, a life that we can share with the world.

The promise of this night is that God's power knows no limits. Resurrection breaks all the rules, but it happened, and it continues to happen every time we encounter the risen Christ.

As we live into the reality of resurrection we are driven to bring life to the lifeless, to share the Gospel as those women once shared it, to make the story our own and to offer the world the one promise that will never be broken, the promise that God is with us always, that Christ is alive in us.

For this is the night when all promises are fulfilled, and all Creation shouts for joy.

Alleluia, Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia.

Easter Vigil
March 26, 2016 
The Very Rev Penelope Bridges