The first surveys that came out to pastors asking “how are you doing” in this coronavirus age asked about what help we needed with worship. And during Lent, to not have worship seems, well, unimaginable. My church had just started a new Tuesday night dinner worship. That seems like an absurdity now. This week we are considering the unthinkable: how to celebrate Easter online. One of the kids at my church’s food pantry said to me, “maybe Easter will be canceled.”

Easter, I must remind you, I must remind myself; Easter happens every Sunday. That is why Christians worship on Sunday, instead of on the Sabbath. Because every Sunday Christ is Risen. Easter can’t be canceled—it can’t be stopped from happening every week. But that feeling that missing out on the brass quintet and the Alleluia’s and the Lilies and Tulips and Daffodils (the order form is on my desk) seems to mean we are missing Easter. The loss is real.

Easter is the point of church.

Easter worship is not the point of church. Worship, the music, the prayers, the bible readings and commentary, all of this is important, but is not the point of church.

In this time of physical distancing, of caring for our neighbors by staying apart, of struggling to figure out how to gather, worship, and connect through the internet, we have the opportunity to identify what is essential to be church. What is our why? What is our purpose?

The short answer to that is “Easter”. Resurrection. Proclaiming good news to the captives. Feeding the hungry. Caring for the sick. In the early church Easter was the beginning of the God’s rule on earth, and they celebrated it by gathering to eat together. By telling others the story. To get some sense of the trust that Christians had that God’s rule is already here, when plagues came the early Christians went into sick people’s homes to care for them. Death was no longer the ultimate threat. The early church worshiped by living lives of caring for others. By imagining a bounty so large it had to be shared. They imagined the Kingdom of God is here. Now.

Over time the daily meals and discussions morphed into a liturgy and a Christian practice of weekly worship was developed. Today, one of the important activities of the church is Sunday (or Tuesday, or Saturday, or Thursday) Worship. It is important, but it is not our purpose.

This Sunday, Easter Sunday, we will do exactly what the disciples did on that first Easter. We will hide in our homes. We may wonder if the story we are told is really true. We share doubts about the safety of our lives, but also some excitement and hope. We will wait to hear if there is more to the story.

And to live out our purpose as church this Sunday we must also ask: who longs for good news? Who is hungry? Who is captive? Who needs healing? To be the church we must go out and Easter the world around us—sharing the bounty of God’s rule with the world. The rest of the world will know about Easter if we live out the good news. When we say “Alleluia, Christ is Risen” we must mean by that the there is good news for those that are homeless, hungry, sick, for those that are in prison, in violent relationships, living with addictions and mental health challenges.
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Worship helps, but our purpose is outside the building, in the world.

I love the images of Jesus eating, eating with tax collectors, eating with Pharisees, eating at weddings and eating with crowds. Jesus eats throughout his journey, on the night before he dies, and again beside the Emmaus road. In an incredible image of plenty—plenty of fish, plenty of bread, plenty of sharing food, drink, and God’s love, Jesus offers us a glimpse of the Kingdom of God.

After the creation of good food in the Garden of Eden God provides daily bread in the wilderness, Isaiah challenges us to eat rich food without cost, and Jesus turns water into wine at Cana. The Kingdom, God promises again and again, is full of good food, great drink, and more than enough to share.

Despite starting his ministry by creating the finest wine, the bread Jesus offers in the feeding of the 5000 is barley bread—not flavorful oats, not the treat of cinnamon raison, not even fine ground wheat bread, or a good sourdough, rather the cheapest of the breads, the most basic of foods.

With this lowly staple, however, he offers the crowd fish, an extravagance, food usually reserved for the Sabbath meal. For the Kingdom of God is not only about having enough to fill our stomachs, the Kingdom is enough food, the Kingdom is rich food, and the Kingdom is more food than we could need.

For there were leftovers that day, twelve baskets leftover, leftovers so significant they had to be gathered and measured. And that is the miracle that fills me with hope when my soul is dry, when my soul is starving, when my soul cannot survive another day. Those twelve baskets tell me again that Jesus will sit and eat with me, despite my selfishness, despite my lack of faith, despite my sinful and disobedient ways. Those twelve baskets of plenty insist that in God’s Kingdom there is more than enough for you, for neighbors, for strangers, for friends, for enemies, and yes even for unfaithful, doubting, and distrusting me. There is a ridiculously vast supply of leftovers.

​In God’s world view there is food to spare, drink to share, and yes, above all else, there is love enough to hand out freely, twelve baskets, in fact, left over. And THAT is Good news!