Easter Sunday—Resurrection

He is Risen. Alleluia! That is today’s Easter refrain. In church we sing it, we say it, we preach it, we pray it. But living it? That is the real challenge.

We are asked to be witnesses to resurrection. To proclaim it “not only with our lips but in our lives.” That can be challenging in the modern world.

Inside the church, it all seems to hold together—so beautifully. The stories of being saved, healed, raised: Noah spared from flood, Moses rescued from the Nile, Daniel safe in the lions den. Leper clean. Multitudes fed. Lazarus alive!

But no sooner have you stepped out of the sanctuary, still humming “Christ the Lord is risen today, Aaaaa-lleluia!“ And the 21st century broadsides you. You get into the car that still has the check engine light on, the radio blasts headlines, outrage, noise. And you can feel your teeth clench again because the gulf between scripture and your life seems vast.

I’m deeply sympathetic to people who fall for preachers who claim to have all the answers—who know exactly what the Bible means, who’s saved and who’s condemned. So confident in their piety, they’ll point a judgmental finger and warn, “Hell is a-waiting for you.”

In this crazy, angry, greedy, anxiety producing, divided, distracted, unjust world, it is tempting to cling to easy answers even when deep down we know they don’t quite fit the world we’re living in. Certainty is tempting when so much feels uncertain, fragile, and out of our control - I get it, I really do.

If you’re looking for someone with the correct interpretation—someone unflinchingly certain they’re orthodox, who claims to know exactly what God is thinking—this may not be your Substack.

But if you’re willing to trade certainty and judgment for curiosity and vulnerability—not to shut the conversation down, but to stay open to learning and transformation—

If you’re tired of going through the motions, if church feels formulaic or hollow—

If you’re curious about, or drawn to, the man and the movement executed on a Roman cross Friday afternoon—

And if you’re open to a little academic rigor, some historical perspective, and trying—however imperfectly—to make the scriptures relevant and to see the world through Easter-tinted lenses…Then read on.

This is a true story about a priest, a train, and a question I didn’t see coming…

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“Do you believe in the resurrection?”

I was returning home by train after presenting a paper at a conference in Scotland doing what I usually do when I travel —reading. The train was pulling into Birmingham and passengers had already begun gathering their bags, standing in the aisle, preparing to disembark. I continued reading until a gentle tap on my shoulder interrupted. “Do you believe in the resurrection?” The question caught me off guard. I looked up. “What?” I asked, surprised but also stalling for time. The young man who had been sitting across from me at the table in the quiet coach had removed one of his earbuds and pointing to my book asked again, “Do you really believe in the resurrection?” I looked at the cover of my book “The Resurrection of Jesus” and also noticed I hadn’t removed my conference name tag identifying me as The Rev. Andrew Thayer. “This book describes different ways to interpret the resurrection.” I said in a scholarly way avoiding his question.

His gaze fell back to the book. It wasn’t the answer he was looking for - I wasn’t happy with it either. This, I thought, is exactly why I don’t wear a clergy collar when I travel—too much opportunity for awkward theological encounters. I realized I was on the spot. I had been identified and, out of the blue, I am being asked if I affirm or deny the resurrection. The train was slowing. I knew I didn’t have time for a lengthy explanation or nuanced theological discourse. But I also didn’t want to dodge a sincere question. So I chose to be provocative so that my words now might be food for thought later.

“I deny the resurrection” I remember saying exactly that. He blinked and I noticed another passenger turned her head. “When things are difficult or I am in the midst of conflict and I become cynical or hopeless—I deny the resurrection. When I am silent in the face of injustice or oppression—I deny the resurrection. When I turn a blind eye to policies or structures that hurt the most vulnerable, I am denying the power of the resurrection in my life.

But…when I trust that new life can emerge even from brokenness and despair, when I cling to hope even in the face of uncertainty and loss, when I bring good news to those who are weary, or stand with the oppressed, or dare to believe that love is stronger than hate—then I do more than affirm the resurrection, I embody it, I live it. I guess you could say I strive to believe in the resurrection.”

He looked at me blankly for a moment, as did a few passengers nearby—this was the quiet coach after all. I felt embarrassed and a little exposed. Then, slowly, a small smile crept onto his face. “Where are you a vicar?” he asked.“Enstone, near Oxford.” I said. The train doors slid open. He slung his backpack over his shoulder, nodded and said, “Maybe I’ll see you around.” Though this happened years ago, I think about him every Easter Day as I confess in the church what I strive to live in the world. Alleluia!

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Thank you so very much for joining me the week and reading these reflections for Holy Week. Before you leave may I ask to take a moment to think about someone, like you, who would enjoy this space as well.