"Here is the church, here is the steeple. Open the doors and see all the people."

As a little child, I was fascinated by this little rhyme. Making the steeple was easy. I could do that. But, oh, how I struggled to get my fingers just right to make the people—often when I opened the doors, I could see no people at all. As I grew and my fingers became more nimble, I would practice it over and over again—"here is the church, here is the steeple, open the doors and see all the people." And when I did, I often imagined that it was Easter Sunday. It was a full church, a dressed up church, a colorful church, a singing church, a dancing church, even, an Alleluia church, indeed!

I imagined a church much like ours today! A church all dressed up, full of people who look the part, play the part, know the part: When I say "The Lord is risen," you say "He is risen indeed" with great conviction. . .The Lord is risen. He is risen indeed! Without a doubt, the word of the day is "Alleluia!"

I later learned there was another verse to the rhyme, "Close the doors and hear them pray, open the doors and they all walk away." Then, I wondered: where do they go? What do they do? Would I recognize the people outside the church? What do Easter people look like anyway?

Let’s take a look—all the way back to the first Easter, as described in the Gospel of John. Mary Magdalene is the first to go to the tomb, and discover that the stone had been rolled away. She ran and got Peter and John to come and see. When they entered the empty tomb and saw only the linen wrappings of Jesus lying there, they believed, but did not understand, and so they returned to their homes.

But Mary stayed. In the darkness and confusion, she stood. She wept and wondered, "where have they taken my Lord?" She saw angels in white and one she thought was the gardener. But, Jesus recognized her and called her by name, "Mary!" Mary then saw that it was Jesus. He was alive! Risen from the dead! Just like he said. Amazing! Then, Jesus said to her, "go, and tell my brothers that I am ascending to my God and your God." In the darkness of the tomb, she saw the light. And in that resurrection light, the love of God was so clearly seen that she knew everything would be all right. So, Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord!" .

But, what if Mary had not stayed? What if Mary had not seen and believed? What if Mary had not shared? Then, where is the church? And where are the people?

Without a witness, it was just an empty tomb that no one noticed. Without a witness, the story of Jesus’ resurrection would have never been told. Without a witness, death had the last word. The resurrection has need of witnesses. Mary was the first witness. She saw. She believed. She shared the good news. She inspired faith in others. The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the sign of a power that frees people from sin and death to new life—abundant, eternal life. But, to have any power at all, the resurrection has need of witnesses.

Because of Mary. Because of other witnesses. Because of the people who, throughout the centuries heard, believed, shared the story and inspired faith, we are here today. The church is here today because someone witnessed to us the truth of Jesus’ resurrection from the dead.

Here is the church. See all the people! There is no denying who we are today. We are Easter people! And Easter defines us at our best. We look, speak, and act as if we believe it is true: Jesus rose from the dead, defeating the powers of sin and death forevermore. This is good news! That means that from now on nothing—in life or in death—will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus! As one Massachusetts Pastor (Calvin Mutt, Journal for Preachers, Easter 2007) notes, "On this day, our spirits are marinated in Easter theology."

The Lord is risen. He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

"Close the doors and hear them pray, Open the doors and they all walk away. . ."

What happens when Easter is over? When the church doors are closed and all the people walk away? The Easter bonnets get put away. The lilies wilt. The corsages die. The Easter eggs are emptied. The Easter people take off their Easter clothes and put on their identities they wear outside the church: Protestant, Catholic, conservatives, liberals, black, white, rich, poor, right, wrong, friend, foe.

We head out into a world marked by an ongoing war in the Middle East, global climate changes, political and religious polarization, threats of violence and terrorism, the reality of disease, the pain of personal crises. The words of these days too often seem to be: sadness and doubt, hatred and despair, and death. When the pressure of this fractured world gets to us—beats us down, wears us out, challenges our faith. When Easter seems far away, and God further still. It’s easy to lose our way. Even lose ourselves.

Where are all the Easter people now? What of their faith? And why have their Alleluias stopped singing?

19^th c. German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche claimed that God is dead. But, he once said he could be more readily persuaded about the truth of the resurrection if Christians "looked" as if they believed it.

Nearly 2000 years ago, Jesus rose from the dead. But, to have any power at all today, the resurrection has need of witnesses. That is the challenge before believers today—to live a bold, resurrection faith—to look like Easter people everyday. To see. To believe. To share the story. To inspire faith in others. To witness to the power of God’s love. To look like Easter in what we say and what we do. To live as if we believe it is true.

Madelene L’Engle’s children’s book The Summer of the Great Grandmother (New York: Harper & Row, 1986) tells of being with her grandchildren at bedtime for reading and song. Her grandchild Lena turned to her and asked, "Is everything all right?"

She said, "Yes, of course, everything is all right."

Lena asked again: "Gram, is everything really all right? I mean really?"

L’Engle says she "looked at that little child in her white nightgown and realized that she was asking the cosmic question, the question that is out beyond the safety of this home full of light and love and warmth."

Every Christmas we come to the manger and ask the same question: "Is everything really all right?"

Every Easter we come to the tomb and ask that same question: "Is everything really all right?"

In both cases, the love of God is so clearly seen, that only one answer is possible: "Yes, of course, everything is all right."

On Easter, in the light of the resurrection, the love of God is so clearly seen, you can’t miss it. A love that is strong enough to penetrate the walls of a tomb is surely strong enough to penetrate the human heart—to change our doubt into faith and our sadness into joy. A love deep enough to change our hatred into love, and our despair into hope. A love true enough to change even death to life eternal. A love big enough to change the world. It’s a love that changes everything. Even us. It’s a love learned in the church and witnessed in the world. A love made visible in the lives of real people—Easter people.

Just like Easter may not always look like Easter (given the snow outside), Easter people may not always look the part or play the part, but we know the part—the essential part—by heart: We know Ash Wednesday and Good Friday are facts of our life, but not the final word. Easter is.

We show our true colors in the face of death, when in stubborn hope, we join together in the church, under the steeple, with all the people, witnessing to the power of the resurrection, saying again and again, "The Lord is risen, he is risen indeed. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!"

And so the story goes on. The song goes on. We go on, knowing everything really is all right.

Thanks be to God!