It’s Not the Same as Being Together

This pandemic is much more given to Lent than Easter. Lent is a time of self-reflection, of sacrifice, of giving up something to make space for spiritual deepening. Easter is supposed to be about new life and celebration. Death has not conquered – God is still at work among us!

Well I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it harder to “celebrate” Easter this year. Numbers on the news are better than expected but still grim. Our leaders keep up a mounting tally of who is sick and who has died with a tag on of “recovered” cases. We remain isolated even though there is a glimmer of hope – but we all know it will be a long while before things are back to “normal.”

And then this past week, in a sleepy town in Nova Scotia, the unthinkable. 23 dead at last count. Canada’s most deadly mass shooting in history. The premeditation, and indiscriminate execution of unsuspecting people was horrendous. But worse, that the shooter dressed as a police officer so people would trust him was truly sickening.

It’s hard to celebrate Easter – to be transformed by new life.

And then I remember the stories of Jesus appearing to the disciples in the upper room – the place they have sequestered themselves because they’re afraid. He enters and shows them his wounds and scars. Jesus’ body that stands before them was not the same as the one that was crucified 9 – if it was, he wouldn’t be able to appear and disappear at will – it would have been much more broken, bent over at having been cruelly whipped and beaten. But even in this resurrected, glorified body, there are wounds– the marks of violence that had extinguished the hope of the disciples. In the midst of new life, new hope, resurrection, there are still scars. They have not been erased – in fact they are the sign that this truly is the miracle of resurrection. They are markers of love that has overcome.

We are crucified with Christ Paul says to the people of Galatia. But then he goes on to say that extraordinary statement that now Christ lives in him. We are crucified, and so tempted to stay in the grave, to live in fear, to give in to the evil of the world. Easier to do when we can’t even go out. But we cannot give in to the evil and violence of the world. We have been crucified with Christ, but Easter dawns and once again we are called to rise. So as we travel through these 50 days of Easter, even though we don’t much feel like celebrating, even though we still feel the weight of crucifixion, we find hope in this promise: that though we carry scars and wounds that will mark us forever, love wins.

It’s hard to believe it was 6 weeks ago that we had our last service at McDougall. Some days it feels like that was months ago, and others that it was just a blip a time. What a steep learning curve we’ve had! From simple posts on our website that I recorded at home, to a return to worship in the sanctuary (even without a congregation) we have been steadily learning the ins and outs of digital worship. Now that we have mostly figured out the technology for streaming and recording our services, we are hoping to continue this even after we return to the building.

Add to that meetings held on Zoom, phone outs to make sure nobody is left behind, special programming for children and an added food bank for Acadia, and its plain to see that McDougall has not closed, it has adapted.

Thanks to all who tune in to the services and forward them to friends. We are finding that we have more views online than we had people in the pews! And many of you have told us how wonderful it is to be at home and still feel like you are with us in the sanctuary. It’s not the same as being together as a community, but it is a sign that Jesus is alive among us! And that’s something to celebrate this Easter season.