Resurrection of Forsythia
March 31, 2024
Year B; Easter Sunday
Isaiah 25: 6-9
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Mark 16: 1-8
Isaiah 25:6-9
On this mountain the Lord of hosts will make for all peoples
a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines,
of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear.
And he will destroy on this mountain
the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.
Then the Lord God will wipe away the tears from all faces,
and the disgrace of his people he will take away from all the earth,
for the Lord has spoken.
It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God; we have waited for him, so that he might save us.
This is the Lord for whom we have waited;
let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.
Homily by Rev. Megan Limburg
One of the sights I watch for each year is the blooming of the forsythia and the daffodils, in folks’ yards and gardens but even more, where a house no longer stands, where only the spring dressings remain.
I am referring to the places I see often as I drive the main roads and even more, on the back roads, where a hedge of forsythia, several bushes, grown together, glow with the yellow of early spring, and clearly marking the side yard of a house, but there is no house, it is long gone, collapsed, fallen in, and then the remnants hauled away, but the forsythia still blazes each March, with, and now without, the people who called that patch of land home in years past.
The daffodils are even better. So often seen as I drive up county and down, the sparkle of the daffodils appears in seemingly vacant lots. But if I look more closely, I see how the blossoms frame what used to be the front door, the front walk, or close to the road, where a mailbox used to be.
The houses, the families, the lives, long gone, but each spring this resurrection of forsythia and daffodils, full of hope and life, shining in the spring light.
These sturdy flowers carrying on along our roads and highways remind me too of this day, of Easter Sunday, the day of resurrection, when we celebrate Jesus and, in his resurrection, his defeat of death, that death no longer has the last word.
Our reading from Isaiah assigned for Easter Sunday may be familiar to you as it is often read at funerals.
As we follow the casket of a beloved in our lives, as we grieve and cry, the Isaiah reading assures us that:
“(The Lord of hosts) will destroy on this mountain
the shroud that is cast over all peoples,
the sheet that is spread over all nations;
he will swallow up death forever.”
God will comfort us, wipe away our tears, and in his Son Jesus Christ, God has taken away the power of death in our lives.
I remember being about 9 or 10 years old and really grasping for the first time that people will die in my life, and that I will die. And I remember being terrified by this thought. Is this all there is? This life? And then…nothing?
I was raised in a family with no faith life, but as I grew to be an adult, and found a church home in the Episcopal Church, I found the comfort, and hope, that death no longer has its sting.
There is more beyond this earthly life, and we know little of it, there is much mystery, and in this life we only glimpse, we only see through a mirror darkly. But I do know on this day that, in the resurrection of Jesus, we know there is life beyond this life, that we do not need to remain that fearful 9-year-old, we have the assurance and hope of this day to carry us though any darkness.
Because please do know resurrection does not make everything perfect or easy; we are mortal and folks we love deeply will die and we will grieve deeply. But as our tears come, we know too that we will see them again, on another shore and in a different light.
And so even if we cry on this day of resurrection we can still say: Alleluia! Alleluia!
Amen.