From the Land of the Dead to the Land of the Living: A Homily for Easter Sunday

 Preached at All Saints, Collingwood, Anglican Diocese of Toronto, 20 April, 2025

Readings for Easter Sunday:  Acts 10:34-43 OR Isaiah 65:17-25; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26 OR Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18 OR Luke 24:1-12

”Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen”

We don’t know what it was like, those first steps out of the tomb. Perhaps the garden outside the tomb was just being painted with the first dawn light and just starting to come alive with birdsong.  To get out of the tomb, though, those first steps had to be taken on mangled, wounded feet mangled by the cruel iron of Roman nails.   Even so, he took those steps, and it was an easier journey than the one he had already made that night, travelling from the land of the dead, to the land of the living.

It’s been a hard journey to be sure.   I suppose it began, really, up there on the mountain after the Transfiguration, when Jesus had to drag his starry eyed friends back down and into the midst of human need.  And eventually that road took him to Jerusalem, and it looked for sure like it was leading only to the domain of death.  The journey took him to anguished prayers in the dark, to torches and swords, to thorns beatings and meetings with despots, and finally to agony and humiliation on the cross and the quiet tomb.  The journey seemed to end there, in the land of the dead.

If it seemed that the journey entered there, then perhaps we should have remembered the words of the psalmist, that we heard back near the start of Lent: “What if I had not believed that I should see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!” (Ps 27.13).  The psalmist speaks to us, for Jesus was never traveling this hard road by himself.   No, he was always bringing us along, as many of us as wanted to journey with him, the guide who brings us to the land of the living.

If we’ve been traveling with Jesus through Lent, we have heard stories from the gospels of other travellers who went ahead of us.  You may recall the story of the prodigal son that we heard later on in Lent, how he came to his senses when he realized that he had squandered his gifts and was literally dying.  His steps out of the land of the dead must have been hobbled by hunger and shame, until he saw his father at the gate, faithfully keeping vigil so he could welcome his lost son to the land of the living.

You may also remember, on the last Sunday of Lent this year, hearing the story of how Jesus stopped at his friends’ house in Bethany.  They were having a party, remembering how Jesus had stood at a tomb and cried in a loud voice, “Lazarus come out!”   And now they are feasting, Lazarus very much alive, and the house is filling with fragrance as Mary washes her teacher’s feet in costly perfume.   That sweet small banished any memories of the stench of death that had lingered in the minds.  That fragrance was a promise that Jesus will bring his friends to the land of the living.

Easter is always an invitation to accompany Jesus on this road from darkness to life.  Perhaps your life has been one of disappointment, and the things you thought you wanted didn’t bring you joy.  Maybe you’ve been struggling with some addiction or burden.    If so, then you’ve probably been looking for the living among the dead.  Follow Jesus, and he’ll help you find better things in the land of the living.

Perhaps you’re convinced that there’s a better worldview than the one they’ve tried to sell you on:  shallow consumerism, the idle vanity of influencer culture, and the harshness of political extremism.   Maybe you’re standing on the edge of faith, wanting something ancient and permanent and trustworthy.  Last night our friend Josh was baptized because he chose faith so he could become a citizen of the land of the living. 

It may be that you’re life is full of grief, that a loved one’s absence is a hole at the centre of things.   Or you’re sick or old and weary, yet perhaps fearful of what lies beyond.    You’re on the border of the land of the living, and there’s a guide waiting to bring you across to the reunions that await.

You see, Jesus isn’t content to make the journey by himself.  If there’s one more of us that needs to come with him, Jesus will find them.   Sometimes we come willingly, sometime we have to be nudged a bit, and sometimes we have to be dragged out of death into life.   There’s an old tradition in medieval art called The Harrowing of Hell.  Many scenes show angels holding devils at bay, while Jesus reaches out his hand to pull the dead out of their graves.  No one is beyond his reach.

This Easter, Jesus’ hand is extended to you.   The hand is pierced and wounded, but its still strong.  Grasp it, and let Jesus pull you over the threshold, out of the grave, and into the land of the living.