Shouting Alleluia in the Mundane of Daily Life April 14, 2013

Last week while we were taking a few days off post-Holy Week, Pete and I watched a slide show of our wedding. Now we’d seen it before, but last week in the peace and relaxation of time off, I really SAW it for the first time, really felt it. I saw it and allowed it to soak in. Somehow in the ordinariness, in the normality of daily life, sitting around on a Friday morning playing on the computer, I was able to notice the enormous beauty of that weekend. Suddenly, the pictures of my family all pitching in to get Ascension sparkling before the wedding, the pictures of both our families gathered at the rehearsal dinner, photos of the wedding itself and pictures taken at the reception made quite an impact: the weekend really was something special.
I think that’s how it works---at least for me---the resonance of an event doesn’t hit me until later...some time must pass before I NOTICE the extraordinary perched atop the ordinary of daily life. The same thing happened to me last Sunday as I baptized Oliver. I really thought I’d fall apart during the service, that the action of baptizing my great-nephew would cause me to lose my composure—but I went through the liturgy just fine, thank you very much. It was still really neat to do, but in the moment, I wasn’t emotional.
But, once I’d returned to Buffalo Tuesday night, Pete and I watched the DVD of the baptism. That’s when I cried. That’s when—back in the ordinary of daily life back in the routine, back in the regular--- the full impact of that very sacred event took hold. Only then was I was able to feel the awesomeness of being granted the privilege to anoint my own great-nephew as one of Christ’s own, forever.
There’s something about the routine—the mundane, the ordinary that puts us in a place of open-ness—open-ness to the work of God through the Spirit. I guess we need to be in the mundane routine of daily life for our guard to be dropped…. it’s in that opening that the Spirit can really do her work, it’s in that opening that the miraculous work of God, as given to us in the risen Christ, really gets down to business.
It’s seems that when we return to the routine, the amazing can really and truly take hold.
That’s what our readings on this third Sunday of Easter teach us. As many of you know, our Sunday Readings are on a three-year cycle. Year A B and C.   In Year A we hear the story of Jesus revealing his risen self to two disciples as they walk back to their “regular lives” on the road to Emmaus. In Year B we hear the end of the Emmaus story as Jesus appears to the apostles as they are huddled in hiding just after the resurrection. In the first story, Jesus is revealed to the men after he breaks bread with them—after sharing a meal with them. In Year B Jesus appears to the apostles on Easter Sunday evening. The apostles recognize Jesus right away, but they’re terrified…they only settle down after Jesus has some bread and fish with them. After they share a meal. We’re in year C so today we hear the story of Jesus’ breakfast BBQ for the disciples. It seems important to the evangelists, to the authors of the Gospels that we understand that the post-resurrection Jesus is encountered—and understood—in the context of regular daily life.
In other words, the appearances of Jesus, the recognition of the resurrection seems to take hold, to make sense, to be noticeable only after his friends have shaken off the shock of the crucifixion and are “moving on” with their lives.
When in the midst of the extraordinary—like the  shock of the resurrection, or while in the midst of joy and celebration like a wedding or a baptism, it’s difficult to make room for God. There’s just so much going on we are super-attuned to every last detail….and in our obsession, in our concentration, we can miss God’s nudges. You see, God understands that we expect to encounter the Holy in the big, in the dramatic, in the amazing. But God doesn’t work that way. God isn’t all that interested in seeing us only in our Sunday best. God is much more interested in our regular-ness than in our spectacular-ness. Now don’t get me wrong, God loves a great big party, like our wedding, or the simple wonder of new birth and a new life in Christ as portrayed in a baptism, but God does most of God’s work in the regular and in the routine. Like fishing off the coast, sitting in the family room on a vacation Friday morning, or in the sharing of a meal, in the breaking of the bread.
This is the lesson in today’s Gospel: make room in your daily life for God!
At our Thursday morning Eucharist this week we commemorated the Annunciation, that is the visit of the Angel Gabriel to Mary, announcing that she would be the mother of Jesus. In my homily I mentioned that the thing I so love about Mary is her regular-ness, her normal-ness, her being utterly ordinary, a young peasant girl who simply and profoundly says yes to an angel of the Lord who pays her a visit on an ordinary day while she is engaged in an ordinary task—doing laundry. What makes this event EXTRAORDINARY is Mary’s reception of God’s message. How often does God speak to us in the ordinary, in the routine, in the mundane? Are we receptive enough to receive God’s message? Are we aware enough to hear it? And are we brave enough to heed it?
Our Easter task, brothers and sisters, is to listen for God in the whispers of daily life.
Our Easter task is to hear God.
Our Easter Task is to see God.
Our Easter task is to be God ‘s hands and feet in the world. To follow Jesus. And to take care of Jesus’ lambs. Each and every day.
Our Easter message then, is this:
God speaks to us in the ordinary.
God speaks to us in the mundane.
God speaks to us.
May we all hear, see and be God in the world.  For when we do that, God joins our Easter song of Praise:   Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Amen!