Sermon: Opening Day

           

 

First Presbyterian Church

April 5, 2026, Easter Sunday A

Matthew 28:1-10, 16-20

 

Opening Day

 

 

First, an acknowledgment: I really did get the inspiration for this sermon title and theme from the church sign from a couple of weeks ago.

Did you notice that, somewhere amidst all the basketball foolishness of the past few weeks, baseball season started?

I'm old enough to remember that Major League Baseball's opening day always happened in Cincinnati, on a weekday afternoon There was a great big tradition and all behind it, with an Opening Day parade and everything. I remember it mostly because growing up in Georgia, I often saw that game on TV because Atlanta was frequently the opponent for that first game of the season. In fact I was watching to see Hank Aaron tie Babe Ruth's all-time home run record on Opening Day in Cincinnati in 1974. (And you better believe I plan to be at the River Bandits' home opener Tuesday night, if I can ever get the online ordering system to work.)

Funny thing about Opening Day; no matter how big the celebration, no matter how the big the win or heartbreaking the loss, no matter what (except maybe for rain), there was another game the next day.

There's a lesson in that. We'll get back to it later.

Every gospel’s retelling of the resurrection has its own quirks (for example, Mark barely tells you anything at all, and you never even see or hear the resurrected Jesus?), and Matthew’s definitely has its own distinct features, but there is one thing all four of them have in common: in none of the accounts does anyone actually see the resurrection happen. As Barbara Brown Taylor points out in Learning to Wait in the Dark, there is technically no such thing as a “witness to the resurrection.”

Aside from Mark’s aforementioned gospel, all of the others show us the already-resurrected Jesus, some quite extensively such as Luke’s several encounters seemingly all on the same day, and John’s extensive retelling of Thomas’s particular encounter in Chapter 20 and that breakfast scene on the lakeshore in chapter 21. Matthew’s account is a bit more terse, and appearances of the risen Christ only add up to two – the encounter with the two Marys and then the Galilee appearance to the disciples that culminates in possibly the most famous verses in this gospel, the ones at the very end that constitute what we have come to call the Great Commission – “Go ye therefore and teach all nations…” for those of you who have it memorized still in the King James Version.

The odd thing about Matthew’s account is that even though the two Marys witness quite a spectacle when they arrive at the tomb – an earthquake, a lightning-like angel descending from heaven and rolling back the stone, the guards becoming “like dead men” – all of this spectacle is prelude to the announcement that “he is not here.” Somehow, Jesus is already gone from a tomb that had (presumably) been sealed before the angel rolled it back, if 27:66 is to be believed.

Meanwhile, what the two Marys get is not to bear witness to a miracle. Instead, they get a job to do. (This is where that part about Opening Day comes back.)

First the angel gives them the word to go find those other disciples and get them headed towards Galilee, where Jesus will meet them. While they were headed off to do just that, with the curious mixture of “fear and great joy” Matthew describes, Jesus himself makes his appearance – just as in John’s gospel, Jesus appears to the women first – and basically gives them the same message: go tell the disciples to meet me, not in the great city of Jerusalem, but back in rural Galilee, where Jesus spent so much of his ministry.

This is no great spectacle in front of great numbers, but only to two women, isolated from the rest of the world that was going on as if nothing had happened. No great crowds, no great gathering: just the two Marys. Later the disciples (eleven, after what Judas did) get their turn. As far as Matthew’s gospel goes, that is maybe thirteen witnesses to the resurrected Christ?  It’s almost as if it’s a secret, at least until Jesus commands them to "go therefore and make disciples of all nations..." At least we have Christ's promise that "I am with you always, to the end of the age." This is where Opening Day means there's another game tomorrow, and the next day, and so on. Easter's not over; the season is just getting started.

Maybe the point of Easter is about our job to bear witness, to testify. We receive that commission no matter where we are, no matter how big or how small, how important or unimportant. Whether anybody saw it or not, Christ is still risen and still calls us to bear witness, whether we're in the big leagues or the minors.

Easter is not the end of anything. It's Opening Day. The season is just getting started.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

 

Hymns (from Glory to God: The Presbyterian Hymnal): #232, Jesus Christ is Risen Today; #233, The Day of Resurrection; #511, Come, Behold! The Feast of Heaven; #239, Good Christians All, Rejoice and Sing!

 

 

 Opening Day, April 4, 1974. To be fair, Aaron did get the next game off. 

 

Sermon: Remember Me

First Presbyterian Church

April 2, 2026, Maundy Thursday A

Matthew 26:26-30; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26

 

Remember Me

 

 

I have very distinct memories of the Lord’s Supper, when I was a child, looking for all the world like a funeral service. Table (and all the elements on it) covered in a shroud, the church’s deacons (no elders in that denomination), all male, dressed in black and looking exactly like pallbearers at a funeral…the only reason I didn’t immediately think of it this way was because, at that young an age, I hadn’t been to enough funerals to know. When I finally did see a couple of funerals and then saw the Lord’s Supper in church on a Sunday looking pretty much the same, I honestly think I was scarred just a little bit. It might have been worse if we’d had it more than four times a year.

Since then I have studied enough history to know that such presentation of the Lord’s Supper was not only common, it even came with official backing in at least one of the ancestor denominations to the PC(USA); its Book of Order described and prescribed exactly that kind of setup for the table, even to the point of how the shroud was to be folded when removed, and how it was to be replaced over the elements when the Supper was done. This was as far back, if I remember correctly, as 1796. There is a long history of treating the Lord’s Supper primarily as a memorial.

At this point in my life and ministry I can no longer believe that’s precisely what Jesus was going for here, as recounted by Paul in what we now know as the Words of Institution.

As Paul describes the scene (in what is our earliest written account of it), Jesus performs the acts we know – breaking the bread, filling the cup – and marks each one with the appropriate theological significance – “my body that is for you,” “the new covenant in my blood.” But then what does he say? “Do this in remembrance of my sacrifice”? “Do this in remembrance of my death”? “Do this in remembrance of what’s going to happen tomorrow?”

No. “Do this in remembrance of me.”

“Do this in remembrance of me.” Remember me. Remember the one who journeyed with you all around Galilee and Judea. Remember the one who taught you, who sent you out to preach and teach and heal. Remember me, the one with whom you shared so many meals at so many tables. The one who lived with you all these years.

Later in this same letter Paul will take issue with some in the Corinthian church who somehow doubt that Christ was ever raised from the dead.  It is one of the most impassioned parts of this epistle, and in the end Paul finally goes so far as to declare that “if Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins” (15:17), and even further, “if for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied” (15:19).  But then the good news: “But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died” (15:20).

Even back in our words of institution, Jesus instructs his disciples that in the sharing of this bread and cup, we do “proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes” (11:26). If all we have to show here is Jesus’s funeral, if what happened in this meal and then in the garden and finally on Golgotha is all there is to the story, then we really are kinda hopeless, aren’t we?

Do this in remembrance of me. Remember me.

The animated film Coco understands what power memory has. The young boy at the center of the story, who accidentally journeys into the Land of the Dead of Mexican folklore, is in the end rushing back from that land to be at the side of his "mama Coco"; as she is slowly fading, her memories slipping away, the boy sings to her a song that her own father had sung to her as a young child, before leaving the family to try to provide for them as a musician - a journey on which he ends up being murdered, unbeknownst to his family. That song had been made famous by the man who murdered her father and stole the song, presenting it as his own and becoming famous. But in these final moments, as the boy sings her father’s song haltingly to his mama Coco, the first sparks of life come to her face. (Any good music therapist will tell you that music can sometimes do this.) Her fingers begin to move, almost imperceptibly; her eyes open, ever so slowly; in the end, her own halting voice joins with the boy’s to finish the song, as she smiles for possibly the first time in years:

Remember me, though I have to travel far
Remember me, each time you hear a sad guitar
Know that I’m with you the only way that I can be
Until you’re in my arms again
Remember me

 

In this supper, in this bread and this cup passed among us, broken however imperfectly and maybe spilled a little bit, we remember Jesus, the whole life, the whole word, and in that remembering we are brought to new life, given a song to sing, a smile amid the tears of the everyday; we live in this testimony of the Christ who is coming again, and in whose life is our life.

Do this and remember.

Thanks be to God. Amen.

 

 

Notes on the Services for Holy Week

A few notes on the services for Holy Week at First Presbyterian Church of East Moline:

 

Thursday, April 2, 6:00 p.m.: Agape meal with communion, FPC East Moline library/meeting room

The early Christians gathered for services of worship and instruction which also included a community meal. While Christian converts from Judaism might have remembered the observance of Passover, Gentile converts were more likely to be familiar with the symposium, or banquet, and as the church spread out and became more far-flung and less focused on Jerusalem and Judea, this model was quickly adapted and fitted to Christian practice and tradition.

In addition to the meal itself, one or more teachers or evangelists would speak at such events. The remembrance of Jesus's last supper with his disciples was quickly adapted to all such gatherings, not only those for commemoration of an event like Maundy Thursday.

This meal will seek to capture the spirit, if not the actual form of such meals, with the message reminding us of Jesus's time with his disciples and how we best put into practice Jesus's instruction to "do this in remembrance of me."

 

Friday, April 3, 12:00 noon, Good Friday service, First Presbyterian Church, Milan

We are invited to join our siblings in the faith for observance of this holy day of the church year.

 

Saturday, April 4, 12:00 noon, Holy Saturday observance, the labyrinth at FPC East Moline

Weather permitting, we will commemorate the day Christ was in the tomb. Scripture, song, and a brief spoken meditation will be includedm as well as time for silent meditation and prayer. Those who are present will be invited to walk the labyrinth as part of your time here. (If weather does not permit we will gather in the sanctuary.

This is not an Easter Vigil. On this occasion we mark the fact that was indeed dead and buried, something that can often feel glossed over or rushed through to get to Easter Sunday. Participants are invited to take the time to consider the depths to which our Savior descended to reach us.

 

Sunday, April 5, 10:00 a.m., Easter Sunday service 

Traditional Sunday service for Easter Sunday, including communion. Also this year, the church's confirmation class will be presented as they begin their confirmation studies. 

 

We hope to see you at one or more or even all of these services.

 

Rev. Freeman