NRS 1 Corinthians 15
19 If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. 20 But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died. 21 For since death came through a human being, the resurrection of the dead has also come through a human being; 22 for as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ. 23 But each in his own order: Christ the first fruits, then at his coming those who belong to Christ. 24 Then comes the end, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father, after he has destroyed every ruler and every authority and power. 25 For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. 26 The last enemy to be destroyed is death.

Beloved in the Lord, may the light of the risen Christ shine in your hearts and dwell in your lives; for the sake of Jesus the Messiah. Amen.

There are two ways, and I'm beginning to think, only two ways to look at the world. One way is to assume that this is it. This is all there is and this is all there ever will be. What is, is what you can see, touch, taste, smell, or hear, and if you can't put it into words or translate it into numbers or serve it on a bed of angel hair pasta, it doesn't exist. It isn't real, or as they might say in New Jersey, "Fuggidaboudit."

The other way to look at the world is to assume that what we can perceive and take into our minds is only the barest sliver of reality. What's really real can never be finally contained in our words or calculated with our numbers. The world we know is only a little island of existence floating in a great, boundless sea, "what no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived" (1 Corinthians 2: 9).

In the opening verse of our Easter lesson from First Corinthians, the apostle Paul is pretty clear about what school he belongs to: "If for this life only we have hoped in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied" (15:9). If only to be more comfortable in this life, if only to be better adjusted to this life, if only to advance in the ways and means of this life have we hoped in Christ, then, says Paul, we have missed the boat. If Christ is only a charm for us to get out of jail free, if Christ is only a card to be played when we're caught in a jam, if Christ is only an insurance policy we pay on for the calamities of this life, then we know neither Christ nor his resurrection.

If Paul had gone on his missionary journeys preaching only that Jesus was raised from the dead, people would have smiled and said, "That's nice." The ancient world, you know, abounded in fantastic stories of gods and men: Apollo's son Asclepius raising the dead, Athena born whole from the forehead of Zeus, Orpheus returning from the underworld with his dead wife Eurydice. In that milieu, a single man raised from the dead wouldn't have been earth-shattering. But Paul didn't preach Jesus as a single man raised from the dead, not even a single man raised from the dead and taken up into heaven. Rather, Paul preached Jesus raised as "the first fruits of those who have died."

In the "This is it" school of thought, death is, you know, the "this" that defines the "it." If this is all there is, then death is the ultimate boundary, the outer limit, the end of the line. Beyond death, nothing, nada, zip. Lights out, life ceases, and the self dissolves. We go from being a subject to being an object, from being a person to being a thing, from being a human to being dust and ashes.

But as the "first fruits of the dead," the risen Lord confirms not only is there life on the other side of death, but much more importantly, that life - boundless, endless, deathless - is now streaming, pouring, rushing into this world. Christ has breached the wall of death. Thanks to Christ's triumph, there's a brick missing in the great wall that cuts through all life as we know it, and through that chink in the wall the very power, wisdom, and glory of God shines on us. What we could only dream of and imagine has pitched his tent and dwells among us in a way that death can no longer threaten. In Christ the perishable has put on the imperishable, the mortal has put on immortality. What was sown in weakness has been raised in power. And "this" - this world, this life, this time - can never again just be "it."

In the light that shines from the empty tomb, we see the world not as a commodity to be exploited, but as a precious gift from the hand of God for us to cherish, nurture, and keep for the health and well-being of all. In the glory of the inbreaking Kingdom, we see ourselves not as expendable products pre-marked with expiration dates. But instead, we see ourselves as beloved children of God whose goal is not to cram as much as we can into our limited life spans, but to live, now and forever, to the glory of God in loving service to all. In the victory of the risen Christ, life becomes less a race and more a dance, less survival of the fittest and more kindred living together in unity, not so much a fight to the finish as a faith journey on our way to the Father's house.

Because Jesus Christ, "the first fruits of the dead," lives to die no more, what is, is what we can now see in the Son risen to victory. What is, is what we can now hear God's Word proclaim, that Christ shall reign until he has crushed even death itself. What is, is what we can now feel, taste, and smell in the bread broken and the cup shared, for me and for you. What is, is what "no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the human heart conceived," but which things God has revealed to us through the invincible Spirit of Christ.

There may be two ways, and only two ways of looking at the world, but there is just one Christ, living and reigning, who brings to us the hope of God, the love of God, the kingdom of God.

In the Name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen