The Rev. Noah Van Niel
April 20th, 2019
The Chapel of the Cross
The Great Vigil of Easter (C)
Do y’all know who Ron Popeil is? Ron was the king of the infomercial for decades, hawking such infamous kitchen items as the Chop-O-Matic, the Veg-O-Matic, the Mince-O matic, the Dial-O Matic, and the Whip-O-Matic. He’s the one who brought us the Showtime Rotisserie & BBQ which allowed him to coin the phrase, “Set it and forget it!”
Ron was an outsized personality but an undeniably effective salesman. He sold millions of products making himself millions of dollars and chances are, at some point, you too submitted to his insistent charm and bought that machine you just couldn’t live without. Even though, as some wise person once said: “If the best things in life are free; the worst things in life are $19.95.”
Now whenever I watch an infomercial, the relentless absurdity of the whole thing makes me a little sick to my stomach. But I am indebted to Ron Popeil for one thing (and no it’s not “hair in a can” another one of his infamous items). It’s the way he would always say, just when you were ready to switch the channel, or give up on calling in to order, “But wait…there’s more!” And suddenly the price would drop or the product would double, or they’d throw in some extra doodad that broke your last line of defense against wasteful spending. “But wait…there’s more!”
When I hear it in Ron’s caramel baritone it makes me roll my eyes, but could there be a better encapsulation of the holy mysteries of this night than “but wait, there’s more”?
To be able to say, “but wait, there’s more” is a statement of faith. Maybe even the statement of faith. And everything about this service is meant to help us say it. Starting with the dark church we light a fire, as if to say, for you who sit in darkness, darkness is not the end; “but wait…there’s more.” And as more and more light is kindled from that holy fire we sit to listen to ancient stories about how God said to the world, “but wait…there’s more!” From the primal void he brought forth the beauty and fullness of creation; from the endless waters across the face of the earth, he brought forth a new beginning; from the bondage of slavery he brought forth the Israelites into freedom; and from the valley of the dry bones he brought forth new life.
But wait, there’s more. We move to baptism which takes a child—in our case two remarkable young children—and says to them, “but wait, there’s more!” More to this life than you even know. Your existence is full of meaning and purpose and belonging and love you are marked as Christ’s own forever.
But wait, there’s more: the empty tomb. We hear the story of how the women come at daybreak so that they might anoint Jesus, and give him a proper burial. But when they show up, the stone has already been rolled back. But wait, there’s more. They step inside to see the body is gone. But wait, there’s more: suddenly two men in dazzling clothes appear beside them. But wait, there’s more. They have a message for them: “He’s not here. He is risen. It is as he promised it would be.” But wait, there’s more: these wonderful women, these models of faithfulness and devotion, run and tell the disciples, who are gathered together in defeat and grief, “But wait, there’s more! There’s more life than death, more hope than despair, more love than hate in this world. He is not there. He is risen!” This is more than most of them can handle; they can’t believe it. But wait, there’s more. Peter, desperate for something more than the denial which lingers in his heart, runs to the tomb to see for himself that yes indeed, there is more. And he returns, amazed that after all that had taken place there is still more to come.
In my office I have a wooden plaque on one of my shelves that says, simply, “God is more.” Period. God is more. More powerful than you know, more forgiving than you deserve, more wonderful than you can imagine, more complex than you can understand, more lasting than anything, more loving than anyone. God is more. That’s what this night is about, that’s what the Resurrection is about: the more-ness of God and the “more” He has in store for you in this life, and the next. When it feels like things couldn’t be better, this plaque reminds me that actually there’s still more. That these joys and blessings are but a drop in the bucket of the eternal joys and blessings on offer in God’s heavenly kingdom. So enjoy them now and look forward to even more where that came from. And when I find myself in times of difficulty those words are just as powerful. Because they remind me that nothing lasts forever, except God. Whatever pain, or illness, or sorrow we may be facing it will come to an end. It may be an end we cannot see, but that’s why we hold on to the promise of the Resurrection, which tells us, even in the tomb, “but wait…there’s more.” There is more to life than this present affliction you are suffering. This too shall end because even death is not the final word. There will be a light at the end of whatever tunnel you are traversing. You may be sitting in shock, you may be drowning in grief, you may be in pain, lost, hopeless as a bunch of friends who just had their ringleader executed in front of them and whose body they sealed in a stone cold tomb, but the message of this night is and was, and ever shall be, “But wait, there’s more!