If we were to adopt the geographical trajectory of St. Luke’s writings (his Gospel and the Acts of the Apostles), everything that happens before the resurrection of Jesus is intended to move towards Jerusalem. And afterwards, all action moves from Jerusalem to the ends of the earth. Thinking about this in terms of the Church year, much of our preparation moves towards Jerusalem. We consider Easter to be a high point, and we imagine the days following as anti-climactic, perhaps even less important. But there are many missed opportunities in such thinking.
There are forty days of Lent and fifty days of Easter. For fifty days (called the Great Fifty Days) the Paschal candle towers over all our prayer and worship in the church, reminding us that by the power of the resurrection, we are compelled to continue the trajectory of our discipleship to the ends of the earth, bringing the light of Christ into the darkest places of our communities and lives.
When looking at the register of services in our sacristy, I’d love to see those numbers skyrocket after Easter. I’d love to have my inbox full of messages from people wanting to know how they can use their unique gifts for the sake of the Gospel. I’d love to see parishioners inviting others (“from the ends of the earth”) to experience the transformation, joy, and power of the resurrection. The Great Fifty Days of Easter are a time for evangelism.
I wish evangelism were not a nasty word, but I understand why many balk at it. So much damage—mental, spiritual, and physical—has been done in the name of evangelism. But just because it has been hijacked by careless and irresponsible Christians doesn’t mean that it has no value. Indeed, all the more, it’s our bounden duty to reclaim evangelism from those who would use it violently.
We might imagine that the devil, in his chilling wiliness, laughs when Christians shy away from evangelism. This is exactly what evil would like: for a good thing gone wrong to lose its original power. But I haven’t given up hope that thoughtful and compassionate Christians will indeed rescue evangelism (which, after all, has to do with the good news) from its bondage to evil.
We are rather like those earliest disciples of Jesus who cowered in the upper room out of fear. They feared for their lives as ambassadors of the Gospel. It was far easier to stay locked behind closed doors rather than venturing bravely out into a dangerous world to announce good news. But we know that, with time, those disciples did venture out, some to their deaths in remote corners of the world, but all to plant communities of hope in a world just as broken as our own.
So, what can we do this Eastertide? First, we can show up on the first day of the week to share in the breaking of bread and in the prayers (see Acts 2:42). It’s helpful to remember that unless prevented by illness or exceptional circumstance, this means in the flesh, in person. There’s no more important thing we can do as Christians because this sacred action that has been the defining feature of the Church from the resurrection of Jesus reminds us that we need God and each other. Being together, in our bodies which will one day be raised by God, is what coaxes us out of our complacency and wears down the rough edges of our sinfulness. It’s what heals us. Second, we can recall that having broken bread and shared in the prayers with each other and possibly even with total strangers, we are commanded to move out through open (not locked) doors into a world that desperately needs our witness, perhaps quiet, perhaps bold. Two things are required of us: to break bread and say our prayers together and to be natural, sincere evangelists who live embodied lives that reflect our own inner transformation in the power of the Spirit.
Evangelism is not for a select few, such as the ordained or visible lay leaders. It’s for each of us. Eastertide is the season for us to celebrate that if we say we’re Christian, then we are to believe and act in hope. And such hope doesn’t allow us to give up on the world or the Church. It demands that we expect the Church to grow, not for the sake of numbers but for the sake—indeed for the salvation—of the world. And may the life-giving, transformative Gospel of which we are inheritors spread to the ends of the earth, not for the sake of human or ecclesial power but for the sake of love.
Yours in Christ,
Father Kyle