Preaching Easter Eve

With just over three weeks to go, some of our readers are undoubtedly thinking about what approach they’ll take for preaching the Great Vigil of Easter. If you haven’t tried preaching on the liturgy itself before, this might just be the year. One example follows — and please forgive the appearance of the “a” word: yes, it’s Lent, but this homily just wouldn’t be the same without it, or without the dialogical punctuation it afforded in actual delivery.

Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
The Lord is Risen indeed! Alleluia!

This night we have gathered
to celebrate something wondrous:
the power of God’s love to conquer death and hell,
not only in the life of his only-begotten Son,
but in the lives of all his adopted daughters and sons.

This night we have gathered
to celebrate something wondrous:
the power of God’s love to meet our very deepest needs
for reconciliation, transformation and healing,
in our hearts, our families, our communities, church and world.

This night we have gathered
to celebrate something wondrous:
the power of God’s love revealed to us in story and song,
in fire and water, in bread and wine.

This night we have gathered
to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ.

“The sun has set: black darkness broods above;”
yet Christ, our “champion leader kind,”
in whom the lights of heaven were set in their courses
gives light—a new light—to our nightwatch
in which we plumb the depths of the mystery
made oh so very real to us this night.

“For this is the night, when all who believe in Christ
are delivered from the gloom of sin,
and restored to grace and holiness of life.

“This is the night, when Christ broke the bonds of death and hell,
and rose victorious from the grave.
Wickedness is put to flight,
sin is washed away,
innocence is restored to the fallen,
pride and hatred are cast out,”
peace and concord become not just a dream,
but a reality that begins with us, here and now.

So we have kindled our evening sacrifice,
“a honey-sweet offering of wax and wick and flame,
the work of human hands and of tiny bees.”

“Beneath the might of fire, in slow decay,
its scented tears of glowing nectar fall;
and lower and lower droops the candle,”
as we while away this night
in which there is truly nothing better,
nothing more important,
nothing more lovely,
nothing more rewarding
that we can do.

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

Yes, this the night, when we tell our story:
our story, bound up within God’s own greater story.

This is the night when God spoke the creative Word,
released the first fire of the Big Bang,
unleashed the mystery of evolution,
and brought our first ancestors into being.

This is the night when Noah’s dove
returning to the ark, olive branch in its beak,
brought news that the great waters were receding,
and that God would never flood the earth again.

This is the night when God stayed the hand of Abraham,
and promised to provide a new offering,
a sacrifice to lay bare every human heart,
revealing the depths of God’s love,
disclosing the violent jealousy at the heart of our original sin,
and ending, once for all, every other sacrifice.

This is the night when when our ancestors,
the children of Israel,
came out of bondage in Egypt,
and were led through the Red Sea on dry land.
And oh! how they danced, on that farther shore,
singing to the God who was covered in glory,
who delivered them from death
and drown their enemies in the sea!

This is the night when God’s promises are fulfilled:
the web of death woven over the nations is destroyed,
the rich feast of God’s holy mountain is spread,
and everyone who hungers and thirsts
can come and eat and drink and live!

This is the night when God’s people are gathered from the nations,
sprinkled with clean water, and cleansed from all defilement,
given new hearts, not of stone but of flesh,
upon which are inscribed the law of a new covenant.

This is the night that dry bones live
as the breath of God comes upon the beloved dust.
Given anew, that breath never will be withdrawn again!
Zion sings, the daughters of Jerusalem rejoice,
the sons of Israel cry out with gladness,
as the reproach of our ancestors is taken away,
our shame is turned to praise,
and we are gathered home to God!

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

This is the night we welcome into our midst
N., and N.,
who have died with Christ,
and been buried in the watery grave.
Sealed with the Holy Spirit,
they are risen to new life,
and are “marked as Christ’s own forever,”
bearing in their own flesh
the mystery of his dying and rising.
Confessing the faith of Christ crucified,
they “proclaim his resurrection,
and share with us in his eternal priesthood.”
Clothed in radiant garments of white,
they are become our angels,
seated on the stone rolled away from the empty tomb.
Their presence among us
proclaims that the one who we too often seek
among the dead and dying things of this world
has been raised to new life,
and even now goes before us.

With their parents and godparents, we have renounced
“all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God;
the evil powers that corrupt and destroy,
and the sinful desires that draw us from the love of God.”
With them, we have professed in no uncertain terms
the faith of many generations.
We have spoken truths more true than what our senses fathom;
the words that declare our personal, but never private, belief
that there is one God, Father and maker and lover of us all;
and one Lord Jesus Christ,
truly flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone,
truly of one being with the living God;
and one Spirit, the Lord and Giver of life,
the Spirit of Creation that hovered over the waters;
the Spirit who spoke by the prophets;
and one holy Church, one people in God’s sight,
stretching throughout time, past, present and future;
a forgiven people, with a mission of reconciliation,
whose very bodies are destined for glory,
made partakers in Christ’s own resurrection,
for the life of the world to come.

This is the night that we, with Ezekiel,
beheld water flowing from the threshold of the Temple;
with John the Seer, we saw the River of Life
flowing from the throne of God.
And within that living stream
we have remembered our own baptisms,
and we have been grateful indeed.

Now soon that gratitude will overflow
in abundant thanks and praise,
as we lift up our hearts, and join in the hymn of all creation:
that hymn that echoes forever through the halls of heaven,
yet sung once for all by Christ,
when he “stretched out his arms upon the cross,
and offered himself, in obedience to God’s will,
a perfect sacrifice for the whole world.”
“By him, and with him and in him,
in the unity of the Holy Spirit,”
we will “offer and present to God
our selves, our souls and bodies,
to be a reasonable, holy, and lively sacrifice.”

And then we will feast:
“the gifts of God for the people of God,”
the holy things for the holy ones,
“which earth has given and human hands have made,”
become the very Lamb of God,
who takes away the sin of the world;
the flesh and blood of Christ our God,
set before us to be our “holy food and drink
of new and unending life in him.”

And all that we have celebrated this night:
God’s story and our story,
covenants made and covenants renewed,
dry bones dancing,
and the whole creation being made new,

the very dying and rising of Jesus Christ
will be written on our hearts, dwelling within us,
as we dwell in him, this night,
and for ever more.

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