Sermon for Easter Vigil

“The night is come”

“The night is come,” the Paschal Praeconium proclaims exultantly. This night marks the beginning of something new, a new creation, not through the destruction but by the renewing of creation. What is new is what the great Easter proclamation, known as the Paschal Preconium, signals. Resurrection. That is the new creation. That is God’s great work of making something out of nothing, indeed, out of the greater nothingness of human sin and evil.

How can there be a greater nothing? Only as a figure of speech, it might seem, and yet in another way, that is exactly the great joy of the Vigil and of Easter. We wait expectantly for God’s great second act; such is the Resurrection. Sin and evil seek to unmake the creation and even, folly of all follies, to unmask and dismiss God from every human horizon. Sin and evil try to make creation and God nothing. God takes human sin and evil, and out of its greater nothingness, out of its vanity and folly, makes a new creation. There is Resurrection not by a denial of the past of the Passion and Death of Christ but by its transformation. God makes something out of the suffering and death that we have caused. “The night is come.”

“The night is come” when we can shout with exceeding great joy that Christ is Risen. Alleluia! Alleluia! What that means is signalled in the liturgy of the Vigil. It means that death has been completely changed, overcome; it has undergone a radical make-over. Death is no longer the terminus ad quem, the end of the road, the end to which all must succumb; death has been transformed into a transitus, a means to greater end. We pray that our “corrupt affections,” our sins being “buried with Christ,” “we may pass to our joyful resurrection”  “through the grave and gate of death.” The grave cannot hold him and God seeks something more for us. We only live when we live in him.

“The night is come” that out-nights all other nights including the love-duet between Lorenzo and Jessica in the Merchant of Venice, each seeking to gain an advantage over the other in references to the ancient stories of love and its powers. “The night is come,” the Paschal Praeconium says “wherein thou dividest the sea and madest the children of Israel to pass over as on dry land”,  the night, too, in which the people of Israel are led and guided by a pillar of light. The imagery recalls God’s deliverance of Israel from Egyptian slavery in the Exodus. So this night builds upon that story and its importance for the understanding of Israel. Christ’s Resurrection is framed in terms of God’s deliverance of the ancient people of Israel from death and slavery and extends it to the whole of humanity.

“The night is come,” then, when “all that believe in Christ upon the face of the earth” are “delivered from the shadow of death” and “are renewed and made partakers of eternal life.” Such is the radical nature of the Resurrection and its universal extent.

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Sermon for Holy Saturday

“Christ hath once suffered for sins … that he might bring us to God”

The quiet of Holy Saturday is the peace of paradise. All has been accomplished. All of the horror and noise of Good Friday is past. Christ is dead. The fury and rage of our disordered humanity in all its evil force is spent. There is a kind of stillness to Holy Saturday and to our service of Matins and Ante-communion. All is at rest, it seems, at least in terms of the destructiveness of our humanity in the vain folly of trying to kill God.

Yet God has let us have our way with him. Christ is crucified and now lies buried. We meet at his tomb and while all is quiet there are some disquieting rumours. The human spirit in its confusion is never quiet, it seems. There are rumours and talk of conspiracies about stealing Christ’s body and claiming that he is still alive. The Gospels do not hide from view the variety of opinions already in circulation about the mystery of the resurrection. But apart from the restlessness and inconstancy, folly and gullibility of our world, there is something else which is also stirring on Holy Saturday. We wait at the tomb of Christ in the sorrow of mourners. We wait in the quiet stillness of the morning.

But already something else is happening. The readings from 1 Peter hint at the deeper meaning of Holy Saturday. They hint at the creedal principle of the descent into hell, of Christ going and preaching to the spirits in prison, as Peter puts it, drawing upon the imagery of Zechariah about release and liberation. This will ultimately have its visual representation in the icon of the Resurrection in the Churches of Eastern Orthodoxy which depicts Christ bringing Adam and Eve up out of the prison house of Sheol, of Hades, of Hell, of death.

1 Peter points us to the further dimensions of the theory of the atonement. God seeks to be reconciled with the whole of his sinful creation past, present, and future. Such is the radical nature of Christ’s sacrifice on the Cross. He suffered for our sins to bring us to God. The reconciling love of God in the sacrifice of Christ has a long reach both backwards and forwards since it seeks to gather all time back into itself without which time has no meaning.

We rest while God in his unceasing activity seeks the good of the whole of our humanity. That should in like manner challenge us about our dealings with one another. It would seem, however, that even in the quiet stillness of Holy Saturday, stones will not be able to contain or constrain the love of God in Jesus Christ

“Christ hath once suffered for sins … that he might bring us to God”

Fr. David Curry
Holy Saturday, April 11th, 2020
Posted not preached owing to the Covid-19 outbreak

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Easter Even

The collect for today, Easter Even, or Holy Saturday, from The Book of Common Prayer (Canadian, 1962):

GRANT, O Lord, that as we are baptized into the death of thy blessed Son our Saviour Jesus Christ, so by continual mortifying our corrupt affections we may be buried with him; and that, through the grave, and gate of death, we may pass to our joyful resurrection; for his merits, who died, and was buried, and rose again for us, thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The Epistle: 1 St. Peter 3:17-22
The Gospel: St. Matthew 27:57-66

Ambrogio Bergognone, Lamentation of ChristArtwork: Ambrogio Bergognone, Lamentation of Christ, c. 1485. Tempera and oil on panel, Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest.

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