Pastoral Letter for Holy Week and Easter

I awoke this morning at home in Minnesota. As I do every day, I wandered sleepily to the front door to pick up the paper. And the first thing I saw was the headline-- "58% say they'd ban gay marriage." I was instantly awake and I could feel my heart sink. I had to consciously take a deep breath and put the paper down, trying to get a little distance.

This was the very first interaction I had with the outside world, and it was one in which members of my own community were expressing their disapproval of the way in which I love.

I don't know about you, but this whole debate around same-sex marriage hits me in my gut. Even as I have mixed feelings about marriage (its history of racism, property rights and abuse leave me questioning its legitimacy as an institution), I am crystal clear that the move to ban same-sex marriage isn't just about marriage. Instead, it is the latest attempt to define lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people as second-class citizens at best and abominations at worst. And I can't seem to keep the judgment, hatred and bad energy out of my soul.

But even as I stood at the dining room table, looking at the newspaper I had just set down, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the newsletter from my church, listing our Holy Week and Easter services. And it seemed an apt metaphor-- the newspaper and the church newsletter sitting side by side. Sometimes, it is the newspaper that offers me words of hope in the face of the Church's bigotry, but, thankfully, on this day, it was the church that brought me back from that soul-pierced place to remind me of Jesus' ministry.

On Thursday, many of us will share a simple meal together, perhaps a re-enactment of a seder, and then wash one anothers' feet. We will be reminded of the intimacy, the communion, the servant-leadership that marked the community of disciples.

On Friday, many of us will follow the way of the cross and re-enact each of the moments of betrayal, oppression and injustice that Jesus and the community suffered. Many of us will hear the seven last words read and preached. We will stand at the foot of the cross and know that oppression, injustice and death too often win the day.

These two services remind us each year that intimacy and betrayal are within each one of us and within every human community. They also remind us that death's power surrounds us and threatens to destroy.

On Saturday, many of us will sit in the darkness with altar stripped and pulpit bare. We will be in that place of nothingness and death until slowly, life begins to return. The Easter Vigil is one of resurrection dawning, moment by moment, step by step, incrementally. And as it dawns, we are reminded of creation and the garden and of banishment, of slavery and of exodus and liberation, of exile and return, of Jesus' life and ministry and of crucifixion and resurrection. In history, as in this service, we see God's always-present response of life to whatever death we might experience.

And finally there is Sunday! The gradual dawn of the Vigil gives way to "Alleluias!" signaling the epiphany of Easter. Joy breaks in and fills the whole space with its energy. "Christ is Risen!" "Alleluia!"

And the story that carries this message is that of Mary of Magdala and the Risen Christ. In the midst of her grief, in the midst of betrayal, in the midst of her fear, she encounters one she does not recognize. But her pain is so consuming that she can't contain it and she begs this one she does not know, "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away."

And in the midst of her grief, in the midst of her betrayal, in the mist of her fear, the Risen Christ does something so simple--

"Mary!"

And in that instant, the resurrection consumes her more than her grief ever could. And she knows. "Rabbouni!"

"Rabbouni!"

My friends, in the midst of this Holy Week and Easter; in the midst of the intimacy and betrayal that marks our struggle for human and civil rights; in the midst of the setbacks and pain and the moments of joy; I pray you know that there is One who knows you by name.

There is One who knows the grief, the gains, the foibles and fallacies and because of this calls out to you and to me.

And may we, with Mary, be consumed with resurrection. May we know.

"Rabbouni!"

Rev. Voelkel is the Interim National Coordinator for the United Church of Christ Coalition for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Concerns.