'I believe in one Metaphor...' (Easter homily)

 Last night, in this church and around the world, 

we celebrated the great Vigil of the Resurrection.

Most people don’t come; it’s not easy, I understand.

I encourage you, next year, plan to come.

The Vigil of the Resurrection illuminates our Faith in a powerful way.

At the center of a long, complicated Mass

comes the baptism, confirmation and first Holy Communion 

of those who were led by God’s grace to make their act of faith.

It is a bracing experience – and humbling – 

to behold men and women and families come to be baptized, 

late on a Saturday night. They could have gone to bed.

Now, on the morning of the Resurrection, you and I are here.

In a moment, we will do something we always do on Easter morning; 

that is, the renewal of our vows of baptism.

You didn’t get a choice when you were baptized as a baby.

But now you do. Let’s reflect a moment. 

In the off chance that what I’m about to say was never clear:

The Resurrection – by which I mean, a dead body coming to life again – 

is not a metaphor.

This time of year, we hear a lot of talk 

about the metaphor of new birth, renewal, winter-to-spring…

supposedly, that’s what the rabbit and the eggs are about.

Look it up later if you get bored.

Also, sometimes people say, oh isn’t it a lovely story?

Just to be clear: we don’t believe in Jesus as a “comforting story.”

Lots of things about the Christian Faith aren’t “comforting.”

Nor does Christianity make things easier. 

A lot of short-cuts are blocked by the Ten Commandments.

No, there is only one reason to believe; and that is, it is true!

So, I might lose someone here, but:

If you say you’re a Christian, 

but you don’t believe the Resurrection really happened, then…

that’s really dumb.

If the Resurrection didn’t happen, then Christianity is pointless.

It’s not a metaphor. Jesus really rose from the dead.

Believe it, or don’t believe it, but don’t try to soften it.

It might be nice to have a set of gauzy, pretty, comforting notions 

that make us feel like we live in a Precious Moments calendar.

But when the Apostles met Jesus after he rose, 

that’s not what it was like!

First they scoffed, then they quaked in fear; 

and then they fell to their knees and said, “My Lord and my God!”

I can’t imagine meeting someone who I saw die, and he was alive again. 

But there could be nothing half-way about my reaction, or yours.

Either we are all-out; or all-in.

 

Right now, being a Catholic puts us 

at sharp right angles to the world around us, 

and it’s difficult. But it was always that way.

They used to feed us to the lions.

Today you and are unwelcome witnesses for human dignity, 

especially at the beginning and the end of life.

We bear witness to the fact of human identity, male and female.

Many seek to discover themselves in themselves.

You and I profess that we can only discover ourselves in our Creator. 

This angularity – the uncomfortableness of being Christian – 

fits with the same angularity, the shock of how Jesus saved us.

It wasn’t soft and pleasant. He died; brutally.

The clarity of that death forecloses any fudging the Resurrection.

Remember: they looked for his wounds.

Of those who met the Resurrected Jesus, 

almost every one of them didn’t want to believe it!

Their lives would have been so much easier if Jesus had stayed dead.

And then in their turn, one by one, 

they were killed because they did not lie, and they could not deny.

So, now, you and I declare our faith.

Not in a story. Not in a metaphor. In the Fact.