Almost forty years ago, the sultry voice of Peggy Lee recorded one of the all time classics of Rhythm and Blues, entitled Is That All There Is? It is, in many respects, a remarkable song, one likely requested just before “last call” is announced by the local bartender – for in many ways, it is a song that serves as a punctuation mark for how many in this world experience life’s journey. The words speak for themselves – the first stanza having to do with a little girl watching her house burn down in a fire; the second stanza has this same little girl going to the circus to be entertained, and yet still feeling that something important is missing; the third stanza speaks of later years, of falling in love, and knowing the pain and disappointment of a love that is now lost, if not forgotten. Finally, the last stanza has to do with facing the twilight of one’s years – if not the end itself. It is the culmination of a lifetime’s learning.

I know that you must be saying to yourselves,

if that’s the way she feels about it, why doesn’t she just end it all?

Oh no, not me. I’m in no hurry for that final disappointment.

For I know just as well as I’m standing here talking to you,

when that final moment comes and I’m breathing my last breath, I’ll be saying to myself:

[refrain] Is that all there is, is that all there is?

If that’s all there is, my friends, then let’s keep dancing.

Let’s break out the booze and have a ball...

if that’s all there is.

That refrain follows each stanza, and it is sung with a mixture of faint hope, and not a small amount of darkness, rooted in the personal knowledge of what one can really expect in this world. The answer – not really very much, if the truth be told. The song has sold literally millions of copies, and has been recorded by at least a dozen other individuals and musicals groups. The fact that Peggy Lee introduced it in 1969 – the end of the decade that experienced the assassinations of John F. Kennedy, Robert Kennedy, and Martin Luther King, Jr., tells us something. If may have set our national cultural tone and ethos for the rest of the century. Is that all there is; is that all there is?

 Contrast that message with the Great Fifty Days of Easter. Some rather remarkable stories have formed and shaped us, as a community of faith, these last weeks. Two disheartened followers are making the journey on a road to a village called Emmaus when a stranger appears, and walks with them on the way. As evening comes, they invite him to stay with them for a while, and as he breaks the bread, their eyes open to see not a stranger, but the Risen Lord. A group of disciples go back to their former trade, fishing, for now they must rely on themselves after his death in Jerusalem . A figure calls out to them from the shore, encouraging them to keep at it, and offering a suggestion or two. As they get closer to him, their eyes open, and they recognize the Risen One as he gently invites them to “Come, and have breakfast!” And yes, there were the first ones – the women who went to the tomb to perform an expected ritual of reverence and care, and they experience the unexpected – the empty tomb and the reality that he was indeed alive, as foretold and promised.

This is exactly why the contrast is so vivid between our Easter proclamation of Resurrection Faith and Peggy Lee’s cultural anthem of submission to just the way things are, the acceptance of a losing hand in life’s game of chance. On that road to Emmaus, the disheartened followers might well have been thinking, Is that all there is; is that all there is? And, what about the disciples who went back to their former life of fishing – not for people, as the Lord had said, but for enough from the dark waters of the lake to simply put bread on the table? Could they not have said to one another, as they cast into the deep, Is that all there is; is that all there is? Surely the women went to the tomb in the early morning hours to pay their respects to one more dreamer, whose dreams had been crushed along with his body – and thus, dashing the dreams of all those to believed so deeply in his. Perhaps they said to each other, Is that all there is; is that all there is?

If they were thinking or speaking that refrain, they did receive an answer. The answer is YES. The world – our world – sees things as they are, as they are given to us, and invites people to develop strategies for survival and self-preservation. That is the best that we can hope for, and anything beyond that is considered the luck of the draw, combined with a little dose of survival of the fittest. One of the earliest statements from our own government after Bin Laden struck was a clear mandate to defeat our enemies in order to “preserve our way of life.” Seven long years later, we have still not had a public conversation, much less debate, on the cost to the rest of the planet for this way of life.

But the Easter message of the Resurrection is different. For those who dare to believe and risk their lives for it, while being invited into the same realities and challenges presented by this world, they find not just an opportunity to learn how to cope and survive but a new hope and life altogether. The very stuff we contend with is the same stuff in which we experience the presence of the Risen One. All of the resurrection appearances occur in the midst of ordinary living, the daily tasks and duties of the human enterprise – a journey on a dusty road, fishing on a lake, and making one’s way to the graveside of a close friend, a son, a teacher. There is no trumpet blast, no miraculous clouds descending, and certainly not a word of a chariot of fire. No, it is in the earthiness of life that the Lord comes – seeking us where we are, calling us to see him wherever we may be.

And so the Easter response to the refrain is clear: Is that all there is; is that all there is? Yes, and it is more than sufficient, because what is, in whatever shape or form, has the potential to offer us a glimpse of Christ himself. What was once considered dead is now alive; what was old is now new. We no longer see as before but more deeply, through the eyes of faith.

The apostle Paul wrote these words: So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new. All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us this ministry to reconciliation. If Paul’s words hold truth, then our life in Christ changes us forever, and we share with him, the work of transforming the world as a place full of the beauty and wonder and peace of God. We have been given all we need to share in this work; Is that all there is; is that all there is? Yes, and it is sufficient.

It is appropriate to ask – what then is required? In sharing in Christ’s new creation, what is our task? Perhaps starting with simple gestures toward one another provides an answer. A modern day saint once remarked that we must be willing to see the work of the Holy Spirit in even the smallest of things.

Bobby was a forty-five year old man who had been born with a disease that left him mentally challenged for life – he had the mind and emotions of a young child. Born and reared in Oklahoma , he lived with his parents and occasionally spent time in a residential community designed to meet special needs, focusing on socialization. Bobby loved music, and he would sing along to whatever tune happened to be playing at any given moment. His favorite of all time was the song from the musical, Fiddler on the Roof, the one where the lead character Tevye belts out, “If I were a Rich Man.” He had every note down, every word memorized, every gesture to match the rhythm of the music.

As a surprise gift to him from his parents, Bobby traveled with his family to New York to see a production of the play, staring the greatest Tevye of them all – Zero Mostel. During the performance, he followed every line, lived into each role, sang quietly to himself throughout – until the actors took their final bows and the curtain dropped for the evening. That would have been enough, but his parents had arranged for him to go back stage after the performance to meet the star himself. Mostel, a huge man with a beard and eyes that glistened when he looked at you, shook Bobby’s hand when they were introduced. Bobby struck up a chorus of “If I were a Rich Man” and Mostel joined in – forming something of a duet. When they had finished, the look on Bobby’s face was one that conveyed what it would be like to win the whole world.

After a brief silence, the two looked at one another, and Mostel, grinning from ear to ear asked, “Bobby, how old are you?” He answered, “I’m twelve.” With that, Zero Mostel replied, “So am I.” With that, they embraced – friends for life.

Is that all there is; is that all there is?

Yes – and it is sufficient.