The Lord has risen.  He has risen, indeed.  I think that I can safely say that all of us have heard the Easter story hundreds of times, probably until we can repeat it verbatim.  Since we've heard it so often, perhaps it's message doesn't affect us too much anymore.  Maybe, maybe not.  Today, I'd like to re-tell the Easter story.  Some of you may be familiar with this re-telling but please listen carefully because, in it, we may get a new perspective about how Christ took our sins and sufferings, our pains and disappointments, our anger and disillusionments and infused them with His love and hope and, most of all, with eternal life.  The story is called The Ragman by Walter Wangerin, Jr.

 

Early before dawn one Friday morning, I noticed a young man, very handsome and strong, walking through the alleys of our city.  He was pulling an old cart filled with bright and beautiful new clothes.  As he pulled the cart, he called out, "Rags.  Rags.  New rags for old.  I'll take your tired rags".

 

I thought to myself, "How can this be"?  This man looked very healthy and intelligent.  Couldn't he find a better job than this -- a ragman in the inner city.?  I decided to follow him just out of curiosity.  And, I wasn't disappointed.

 

Pretty soon, the ragman saw a woman sitting by herself sobbing heavily into a handkerchief.  She was crying 1,000 tears.  Her heart was breaking.

 

The ragman stopped his cart and quietly walked over to the woman.  "Give me your rag", he said, "and I'll give you another".  Gently he took the handkerchief from her eyes and laid another clean linen cloth in her hands.  The new cloth was so bright that it shone.

 

Then, he left her and began to pull his cart again.  As he did this, a strange thing happened.  He put the woman's stained handkerchief up to his own face and then he began to cry exactly as miserably as did the woman.  The woman, however, was left without a tear.

 

This is really something, I thought to myself and I continued to follow the ragman.  "Rags.  Rags.  New rags for old".

 

In a little while, the ragman came upon a little girl whose head was wrapped in a bandage and whose eyes were empty.  Blood soaked her bandage and blood was dripping down her cheek.  As the ragman looked down on her with pity, he drew a lovely yellow bonnet out of his car "Give me your rags", he said, "and I'll give you mine".

 

The child could only gaze at him as he removed her bloody bandage and tied it on his own head.  He put the bonnet on hers and I gasped at what I saw; for with the bandage went her wound.  Against his own forehead a stream of blood came pouring out -- his own!

 

"Rags.  Rags.  New rags for old", cried the sobbing and bleeding ragman.  He then approached a street person and asked him if he was going to work.  The man said "no" because he didn't have a job.  "Who would hire a man with only one arm?" as he showed the ragman an empty sleeve.

 

"So", said the ragman, "give me your coat and I'll give you mine".  The one-armed man took off his coat and so did the ragman.  I trembled at what I saw because the ragman's arm stayed in the sleeve and, when the other man put it on, he had two good arms just as muscular as the ragman's but the ragman only had one.  "Go to work", said the ragman.

 

"After that, he found a drunk, covered with an old army blanket lying unconscious in the street.  He was obviously very sick.  The ragman took the blanket and replaced it with new clothes.  The ragman wrapped the blanket around himself.

 

The ragman was now weeping uncontrollably and bleeding from the head and pulling his cart with only one the arm.  He looked drunk but was still going forward.

 

I wept to see the change in this man.  I hurt to see his sorrow but I still continued to follow him and to see what drove him.

 

Well, he finally came to a landfill full of garbage.  I wanted to help him but I stayed back, hiding.  He climbed a hill and then he sighed.  He laid down and put his head on the jacket and handkerchief and covered himself with the army blanket.  And then he died.

 

I cried it terribly to witness that death.  I cried as one who had no hope because I had come to love the ragman.  I cried myself to sleep in an old junk car.

 

I didn't know -- how could I know? -- that I had slept through Friday night, all day and night Saturday.  On Sunday morning I was awakened by a violent light -- a light so bright that I couldn't look straight at.

 

I could see, however, a miracle had taken place.  There was the ragman folding the blanket.  He was alive with only a scar on his forehead.  And, besides that, he was healthy again.  There was absolutely no sign of sorrow or age and all the rags he gathered, shined in cleanliness.

 

Well, I lowered my head in awe of all that I had seen.  I got out of the junk car and walked over to the ragman.  I told him my name with shame because I was some sorry figure next to him.

 

Then I took off all of my clothes and I said to him with a yearning in my voice, "Dress me.  Make me new again".

 

He did dress me, my Lord.  He put new rags on me and I am a wonder beside him -- the Ragman.  The Ragman.  The Christ -- the Risen Christ?!

 

So, my brothers in sisters, have you let Christ put new clothes on you?  Or, are you still letting the world, the flesh and the devil clothe you?  Please, let Jesus, our light, our life, and our Savior clothe you in his new clothes of salvation.  He suffered and died for us.  But, the key question is, do you really believe that He is risen? -- that he rose for us?  I surely do.

 

He has risen.  He has risen, indeed.  Thanks be to God.