Easter is different this year. In the midst of the COVID-19 quarantine, I attended a few virtual church services. Honestly, on the first Easter of no church for me in the last twelve years, I probably had more church than on most other Sundays. I read several sermons and “attended” a few Easter services on-line. In the midst of all that listening and watching, the theme of relationship rose anew for me. It’s nothing new to discuss the relationship of Christ, or the concept of seeing Christ in others, or the idea that one cannot be a Christian by ourselves. However, relationships can be frustrating and surprising. Church community is a prime example of surprising frustrations. We might want to be Christians all on our own, especially during times of social distancing, when we are afraid of other people. We cannot come within six feet of another person without worrying for our own safety.
It is tempting to want to separate even further and to stay in my own virtual community of choice. I wonder if that’s what Mary was thinking as she went--alone--to the tomb that morning. She must have been terrified, grief-stricken, frustrated. I wonder if she went alone so she could be safe in her own grief, or maybe because she just needed a break from the community. She gets up alone and goes alone to the tomb. And she finds, in shock, that it’s empty. The angels don’t comfort her; she doesn’t understand what they're talking about. She’s annoyed by the random gardener talking to her. She is lost--until someone says her name.
Mary mistakes Jesus for the gardener--until he calls her by name. She misunderstands the mystery--until it becomes personal. Our names are perhaps the most personal aspect of ourselves. Some stories tell that to know the name of someone gives power over that person. New parents argue and agonize over names for their babies. When we are confirmed in the church, we take new names. When we are married, we often take new names. When Jesus adopted some of his disciples, he gave them new names. One of the first things you do when you worship in a new church is shake hands and exchange names.
I’ve been a little apathetic towards my church community for the last few years. Initially, I dove into the Episcopal church with vigor and commitment. Within a few months of my first church service, I was leading projects, serving on committees, and taking charge of things. I felt special--respected. Our church relationship was going along just fine. But, as most relationships go, there are bumps in the road. As is inevitable in any true community, I was disappointed and dismayed at certain decisions that the community made. Things didn’t always go the way I wished they would. Due to a few different conflicts, clergy changes, and general shift in priorities in life, I have stepped back from church leadership. I have begun to doubt whether I should remain in this particular community, or look for a new church. In my head, I know that trials and tribulations will follow me through the doors of a new church; I will only find new conflicts and new compromises with new people. In my heart, I wonder if I need a change and new inspiration to waken the earlier passion I felt for community life.
One benefit of the COVID-19 quarantine is that I don’t have to make a decision now. Nothing can be done right now--churches are closed. I can shop around and attend any on-line service that I can find. But there are no new people to meet in real life. I won’t be shaking new hands and telling new people my name. However, whether or not I find a new church, I need a church. Just like Mary mistaking Jesus when she saw him, I mistake God in my daily life--all the time. I miss the sight of Jesus in others and I miss my chance to be grateful and to worship and to serve. Those chances come clear to me when someone speaks my name. Mary responded to Jesus because he KNEW her. You see, when Mary was alone, she saw the risen Lord, but she didn’t recognize him until she recognized the relationship between them. Spending time alone can keep us safe, it can restore us, and it can heal us. But the mystery of Christ happens when we are in relationship with others--others who know our names. The miracle was personal to her. She didn’t understand the angels, she only understood the man who called her by name.
God happens to us, within us, around us. We recognize God when God calls our name, in the voice of a person standing in front of us. The God incarnate, human divine speaks to us through our fellow humans. During this time of separation, personal connection is even more important. Virtual church comforts the mind; our fellowship comforts the soul. I am finding fellowship through group texts, Zoom chats with friends, Facebook Live services with friends separated by miles. When we are “set free” from this quarantine, I will find God again in a church community. Like the old tv show, Cheers, I will find the place where everyone knows my name.
Wherever I worship, I will find people and I will relate to them. We will know the mystery of Christ when we call each other by name.
