Resurrection Hope - 1 Peter 1:3-9

Springtime is always a busy time of year, especially around Holy Week and Easter, and especially when you’ve got a construction project going on. I haven’t had much time for extracurriculars lately, but all my extra attention over the past few weeks has been captured by the Artemis II space mission. Apparently, in a world that can feel inefficient and chaotic, watching good people be good at their jobs scratches an itch for competency I didn’t even realize I had.

I suspect most of you have been keeping up with Artemis II, so I’ll just share a few highlights from the aerospace adventure. The four astronauts who took part in the lunar flyby include the first person of color, the first woman, the first non-U.S. citizen, and the oldest person to travel that close to the moon. In fact, they set a record for farthest human travel from earth.

But even more special than their demographics was their passion for their work, and their loving kindness towards one another. The flight’s commander lost his wife to cancer a few years ago. When the crew spotted a couple of unnamed craters on the moon’s surface, they chose to name one after her, which warmed my heart. I was also delighted to see photos of the NASA staff back on earth, who have worked for years to make this mission a reality. They couldn’t hide their delight over its success - and there was a conspicuous number of women among them.

I think my favorite moment was the interview with pilot Victor Glover. While small objects floated around the gravity-free cabin and the earth and moon loomed large and magnificent outside the cabin window, Glover expressed his gratitude that in the vast emptiness of the universe, the earth is “this beautiful place that we get to live together.” Watching footage of their mission and hearing this thoughtful reflection filled me with a strange kind of hope.

During Jesus’ three years of ministry, many people who heard and followed him experienced a renewed and powerful hope. Their scripture and faith tradition had been preparing them for a savior for generations - a savior who would lead them to military and political victory over their Roman oppressors - and all signs pointed to Jesus being that savior. After a lifetime of occupation, hope for change was a lifeline for the people of Judea, which made Jesus’ arrest and crucifixion all the more devastating.

As news of his resurrection spread, so did wonder and joy. And yes, hopefulness, albeit a different kind. It was clear that Jesus was not going to lead them to military and political victory, so hope for that specific outcome had dissipated. In it’s a place was a hope that runs deeper than any they’d known before, but is trickier to describe, and therefore can be hard to recognize.

In today’s epistle passage, our letter writer is trying to help his friends see and articulate the hope that resurrection brings. I read this letter in the same way I imitate Oprah. “By his great mercy he has given us a new birth into… an inheritance that is imperishable, undefiled, and unfading, kept in heaven for you!” But most importantly, the author tells us that “he has given us a new birth into a living hope.” Not static or specific or limited, but a living hope.

He’s writing to a community of people in Western Asia who are experiencing persecution, and are likely feeling very far from those early, hope-filled days after the resurrection. He encourages them to maintain their Christian hope, explaining that in a post-resurrection world, we don’t cling to average, every-day hope for any particular desires to be met. It’s not about all our wildest dreams coming true.

Instead, our author tells us, “even though you do not see him now, you believe in him and rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, for you are receiving the outcome of your faith, the salvation of your souls.” Resurrection hope is about knowing that the world is worth living in, worth getting up for every morning, because whatever seemed dead is being made new. It’s about trusting that despite appearances, the Kingdom of God really is breaking in among us. It’s about anticipating a glorious future that we cannot yet imagine.

This is why the Artemis II space mission was so special. The joy we got from watching this story unfold did not, as we know, solve world hunger or end the war in Iran. But it was a sign for us that humanity is capable of these things, that we have reason to hope for a glorious future we cannot yet imagine. It was a reminder that we have the capacity for clear perspective, for kindness, for creativity and wisdom. It was a reminder that the human spirit is strong and faithful in good times and in bad.

This kind of hope, the expectation of salvation even with no evidence, is radical and complicated and takes practice to nurture, as our friends in 1st and 2nd century Asia Minor can attest. We must tend to those parts of our souls where such hope lives. We have to embrace joy and wonder whenever and wherever we find it. We have to trust God even when we don’t want to. We have to come together as a worshiping community to offer prayers and praise for the good of all humanity, so that more and more opportunities open up in our hearts and in the world for the human spirit to thrive.

Two nights ago, my friends and I gathered around a single small phone to watch the Artemis II mission complete its splashdown off the coast of San Diego. We were thrilled to see such a mathematically precise process come to its perfectly predicted conclusion. We got teary eyed when the crew members emerged from the landing capsule and took their first steps back on earth. I expressed my relief that I didn’t have to adjust my sermon to account for a last minute space-related disaster.

In the end, we decided that even if something had gone wrong with the Artemis II program, the message of hope in the resurrection would be the same. Christian hope doesn’t depend on things going smoothly. It cleaves to the promise that, as our letter writer puts it, “we are receiving the outcome of our faith, the salvation of our souls.” God’s love for us in the resurrection foreshadows something greater than we can envision. So this Eastertide, on good days and bad, let’s hope for it together. Amen.