04/05/2026 ~ The Feast of Resurrection of the Christ ~ * Acts 10:34-43 or Jeremiah 31:1-6; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; Colossians 3:1-4 or Acts 10:34-43; John 20:1-18 or Matthew 28:1-10

EKC VIDEO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7xlLW1RpH3A

HARPSEWELL TV VIDEO: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xXNo2HNwCgw

Poetry, Perhaps

“Jesus then said, ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to Abba, ascended to God. Rather, go to the sisters and brothers and tell them I am ascending to Abba, to my God and your God.’” — John 20:17.

All Mary of Magdala’s friends called her Mags because she was from the town of Magdala. [1] Some 30 years after the Resurrection she had long since come to understand she was called to write poetry. When she first understood what that meant she wrote this poem. (Pause.)

At first there were shadows.
Then it was night…
simply night.

The light did come next.
It was not visible light,
not even a light
anyone had seen before.
But it was light,
light which seared the soul
with its intensity,
with its substance
with its presence,
with its sense of its purpose,
seared the soul
because it felt so unwavering
that it knew truth
intimately.
A light that overwhelmed
linear reality,
overwhelmed the mind.

A light which could be felt.
But not seen.
A light hidden…
in plain sight. (Pause.)

Her sleep was often restless because inside the slumber poetry was embedded in the dreams Mags experienced. These were dreams of memories, dreams of shadows and light. The dreams made… no… sense. The dreams were ambiguous… but also quite precise.

The truth inside her dreams released poetry into a world which only occasionally listened. The reality in these dreams was singed deep in her memory, discovered by her sleep then viscerally connected to her poetry. (Slight pause.)

In the midst of sleep, memories of that time thirty years ago often erupted within her. What had happened? There was the Passover meal with friends. Then they all walked to a garden and Jesus went off to find a quite place to pray.

Suddenly a combination of Roman soldiers and Temple guards swarmed around them. That was strange. Roman soldiers and Temple guards never cooperated and yet here they were— together. It made… no… sense.

They found Jesus and took the Rabbi away. Why were they interested in Jesus, a Rabbi who preached about love, peace, freedom? It made… no… sense.

And then… and then… there was that dreadful day they executed Jesus. Executing a Jew was normal. Hundreds of Jews were killed, crucified by the Romans every day. Governments were so often senseless, cruel, disorganized, violating love, peace, freedom, acting on the whims of whatever tyrant was in charge.

And now that Roman method of contemptuous cruelty— crucifixion— had been inflicted on her friend. She watched as her friend, Jesus, Who spoke about love, peace, freedom, was murdered. (Slight pause.) It hurt. (Slight pause.) It… made… no… sense. (Slight pause.)

She was thankful for Joseph of Arimathea, Joseph the wealthy Pharisee who owned a fresh hewn tomb. Joseph took charge. Jesus was buried in that fresh hewn tomb. (Slight pause.)

After the Sabbath, early in the morning, Mags went to the tomb. To this day she could not fully explain what happened. Jesus was there, present to her.

It made… no… sense… so mere words failed when Mags tried to speak about that presence which seemed to sear the soul, with its intensity, sear the soul because of its unwavering reality and truth, sear the soul with a light that could be felt but not seen. (Pause.)

Time passed, several years. Then one day, Mags realized there were words she could use, words which could speak about those days. And she started to write… poetry.

Poetry— a way of knowing, expressing the possibility of love, peace, freedom. Poetry— a way of describing that which cannot be described. Poetry— language which brakes the bonds of the finite and allows a glimpse of the infinite.

And so she wrote. (Slight pause.) Over the years of composing, this is the poem Mags liked the best. (Slight pause.)

I am dreaming… perhaps.
I am dreaming of a time
which happened
and yet a time to come… perhaps.

I am dreaming
of the present… perhaps.
I am dreaming
of a reality unknowable,
a dream grounded
on groundless ground… perhaps.

The Presence of Jesus,
Who radically
opened the present.
The Presence, Who exposed
its flaws and its truths.
The Presence, Who exposed
its complexity and its simplicity
The Presence, Who exposed
its longing and its fulfillment—
which is here, now, real… perhaps.

So perhaps, by insisting
what I really know,
And what I need to know
I can now fully know.

And what is it
I perhaps do not know—
but what is now
fully known?

The Presence— Jesus— is real.
The Presence… lives,
The Presence… promises
to love forever…
and loving, perhaps,
is the reality of life.

(Slight pause.) How many years had it been? Thirty, at least. And this she knew: the Presence, the Rabbi, Jesus, was still there, still at her side.

And so she wrote poetry. Why? She wrote because she knew the ambiguous yet precise language of love exists and is displayed in the language called poetry. It made… no… sense.. but the reality of the Presence of Jesus, of her friend, the reality of love, peace, freedom, was real. Amen.

04/05/2026
Easter Sunday — A.K.A. The Feast of the Resurrection
Elijah Kellogg Church, Harpswell, Maine

ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is a précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “I need to mention two things: first, in Aramaic, which would have been spoken in Judea in New Testament times, to be saved meant to be made alive. We moderns do not seem to understand that. Second, I want to suggest to merely say ‘Happy Easter’ is a secular sentiment. So, let me make a suggestion: if someone walks up to you today and says, ‘Happy Easter’ smile and say, ‘Christ is risen.’ Why? ‘Christ is risen’ is the Christian sentiment.”

BENEDICTION AND EASTER ACCLAMATION

After this blessing please then join with me in the responsive Easter acclamation found in the bulletin followed by the hymn Break Forth, found on an insert.

May the peace of God, which passes all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the love of Christ, Jesus, and in the knowledge of the Holy Spirit this day and forever. And please join with me in the Easter Acclamation.

ONE: May the love of God, the power of the resurrection in Christ, Jesus and the presence of the Spirit be with us always. And the blessing of God surround us this day and forevermore. So, indeed, rejoice! Rejoice people of God! Christ is risen!
ALL: Christ is risen, indeed. Alleluia!

[1] Mary Magdalene is at best a bad translation of that name. Mary of Magdala is a more appropriate rendering of it.