May 24, 2020

Helen Jacobi

Easter 7     Acts 1:6-14

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We are here in our church, in our sacred space. Stones, coloured glass in the windows, candles, altar, the organ. We have been gone 9 weeks. 9 weeks which included Holy Week and Good Friday and Holy Saturday and Easter Day. We have proclaimed Alleluia Christ is risen every Sunday of Easter from our homes. And finally we proclaim it here today, this last Sunday of the Easter season.

We are here, but only a handful of us; we miss all of you who we hope will soon repopulate these pews. So while we are here we wait with anticipation for the day when we can all gather, around the table, to share the bread and wine of the eucharist.

We want life to be normal again. No social distancing and signing in at cafes. We want to have weddings and parties, and funerals. We want to be able to sing together, share the peace by shaking hands, and kneel together at the altar rail.

But I fear that in that longing we are like the disciples looking up to the clouds trying to find Jesus – where did he go – where did our “normal” lives go? The angels who come and ask the disciples – why are you staring at the clouds - are like the angels at the tomb in Luke’s gospel who ask “why do you look for the living among the dead?” (Lk 24:5) They also ask us – why are you looking for your “normal” lives. You can’t look back; you have to look forward.

We would rather return to our old ways; they were familiar and secure. We knew our routines, our jobs, our way of doing things. We want them back! And yet I think we are all finding the re entry a little strange. Some are not sure they want to leave their bubbles; others couldn’t wait, but find the people and the traffic a bit overwhelming. Students have to readjust to school routines. Parents miss their children (or maybe not so much).

We all need to take things at a slower pace while we readjust and not expect everything to be done in the first weeks of the return. We have to take time to find our new balance, our new way of being. And not lose all those things we enjoyed: the quiet and the birds and the lack of traffic. Can we weave those things into our new way of being?

Once the disciples realised they couldn’t hold onto the old way of being with Jesus, they gave up staring at the clouds, and returned to Jerusalem, to the upper room. And they gathered with their community, prayed, and listened and waited. They had no idea what the future would bring but Jesus had said to wait and so they did. Next week at Pentecost we find out what happened.

Had they known the enormity of the experience and the challenge awaiting them they might have quietly slipped back to their homes and lives. Instead they waited. We also need to take time to wait, to reflect, to see what this time has meant. As we go about rebuilding our economy and our communities we need to reassess our priorities both personal and national, and even global. At St Matthew’s we are taking time to listen to each other by way of a survey (please be sure to answer it) and in our Zoom discussion groups. We have been enjoying the small groups, and getting to know each other in a different way.

We have found too that of course Jesus is not contained in this space, beautiful as it might be. We knew that before, but we have really had to experience it these last 9 weeks. Finding God in our homes, and gardens, and in the peace and simplicity. Now we can continue to find God in all those places as well as in our workplaces and schools and cafes and shops. And then when we finally do return to our stones, windows, candles, altar, organ we will bring God with us from the world outside these walls into this space, and we will be the richer for it. So we wait, and give thanks for the presence of God with us wherever we are. We pray with the disciples and the women and the community of faith which stretches from their time to ours. Until the Spirit chooses to come amongst us.