Moon Joy

A sermon preached with the people of St. John’s Episcopal Church in Oakland, California.

[To begin, this video was screened]

This week, four human beings traveled farther from Earth than any humans ever have.

And from that faraway vantagepoint, something unexpected happened. They reminded us of who we humans really are: creatures made for love. And, they did this even as powers and principalities back here at home tried mightily to convince us otherwise.

It was a week of fear of the violence of empire.[i] And, a week of what has now been coined “Moon Joy.”[ii] A week of collective grieving and a week of collective effervescence.[iii]

In other words, it was an Easter Week;

That peculiar experience of proclaiming Alleluia for all things made new amidst the reality of a still-broken world.

This morning John’s Gospel takes us to the locked house the disciples are holed up in, experiencing their own, first Easter week. Terrified of the threat of violence from the powers and principalities of their day. Acutely grief-stricken. And yet … confronted, face-to-face, with Easter joy.

When the risen Christ first visited the disciples, Thomas wasn’t there. And he found he could not access anything other than grief with only the hearsay of his friends to lean on; he demanded tangible evidence to even consider anything else. And so, Jesus shows up, again. And invites Thomas to put his finger in his side. To allow his senses to believe. And to allow his body to feel Easter joy.

That illogical, disjointed type of joy that somehow springs out of wounds; feels out of place in a Good Friday world. That joy that comes anyway.

Thomas’ story is so important because it acknowledges and honors the truth that any kind of joy can be hard (and even impossible) to access when the world is frightening and sad. That’s normal. I suspect all of us will at some point, like Thomas, need our community – our fellow disciples – to hold the joy for us, for a while. And sometimes we too will need some pretty tangible evidence of God’s love and our true identity as creatures made for that love to move forward.

And that tangible evidence will come. It does come. In the form of colleagues supporting one another as their friend honors a loved one’s memory. In the form of a photograph that captures every person and place any of us has ever known on one beautiful shining ball, sinking behind the far side of a celestial body that has fascinated our kind since before written language existed.[iv]

In the form of a vulnerable God who knows our pain first-hand, and invites us to be so close to him as to touch his wounds.  

In the form of a weekly gathering. In this sweet sacred space that allows all of our senses to experience the closeness of that same God, too. 

Easter joy is not a fix for all that is wrong. It does not ask us to pretend or sink our heads in the sand.

Easter joy is remembering – if only for a moment – who we really are.

We are not the systems of sin and oppression of this world. We are not violence. And cruelty. And hatred. We are not annihilation. We are not the cross.

We are the object of the love on the cross. Made for love. Made to love each other. That is who we are.

Artemis II Astronaut Victor Glover said to the world, from space: "As we get close to the nearest point to the Moon and the farthest point from Earth and continue to unlock the mysteries of the cosmos, I would like to remind you of one of the most important mysteries on Earth, and that’s love. And to all of you down there on Earth and around Earth, we love you, from the moon."

Astronaut Christina Koch added: “We will explore. We will build. We will build ships. We will visit again. We will construct science outposts. We will drive rovers. We will do radio astronomy. We will found companies. We will bolster industry. We will inspire. But ultimately, we will always choose Earth. We will always choose each other."

We are creatures who choose each other. Bounded together by God’s love. On this little tiny, gorgeous, unlikely, God-made planet.

When we start reaching for artificial humanity. Or for other planets to call home. When we start violently resisting the truth of our sacred interconnectedness. These are symptoms of a deep forgetting.

Easter joy – “moon joy” – happens when we let ourselves remember the truth of who we are. Believe in that truth. Choose that truth.

And on days when “wars and rumors of wars” surround us. When our neighbors are in danger. When we are in danger. We should not feel shame if accessing that truth – that Easter joy – seems hard.

On those days, we might take a page from Thomas, who, in his grief and despair, stayed right there with his community. Let his friends carry the joy for a bit. And, when it was time — when the most powerful evidence showed up, right in front of him — opened himself up to the wonder of the kind of joy that reminds us of who we are

And, we might also take a page from the crew of Artemis II, who had access to the news cycle back here on this fragile earth. And chose to come home anyway.

Because they – and we – are creatures made for love. And, for “moon joy.”

[i] https://www.hks.harvard.edu/centers/carr-ryan/our-work/carr-ryan-commentary/whole-civilization-will-die-tonight-day-american

[ii] https://mashable.com/article/nasa-moon-joy

[iii] https://www.bustle.com/life/artemis-ii-mission-space-making-everyone-cry-carroll-crater-viral-moments

[iv] https://www.sciencenews.org/article/moon-time-calendar-ancient-human-art