Text: John 20:1-18
The Resurrection of Jesus
20 Now on the first day of the week Mary Mag′dalene came to the tomb early, while it was still dark, and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb. 2 So she ran, and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” 3 Peter then came out with the other disciple, and they went toward the tomb. 4 They both ran, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first; 5 and stooping to look in, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he did not go in. 6 Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb; he saw the linen cloths lying, 7 and the napkin, which had been on his head, not lying with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself. 8 Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; 9 for as yet they did not know the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10 Then the disciples went back to their homes.
Jesus Appears to Mary Magdalene
11 But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, and as she wept she stooped to look into the tomb; 12 and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had lain, one at the head and one at the feet. 13 They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 14 Saying this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15 Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rab-bo′ni!” (which means Teacher). 17 Jesus said to her, “Do not hold me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father; but go to my brethren and say to them, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” 18 Mary Mag′dalene went and said to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
It’s always darkest before the dawn.
Mary comes to the tomb while it’s still dark – and she comes alone. In each of the other Gospels, Mary is with a group of women; but in John’s account, she is there all by herself.
Darkness. The silence of the grave. Aloneness. Overwhelming sadness. This pretty much sums up Mary, her situation and her emotional state, on that morning. She has come – why has she come, anyway? In the other accounts, she and the other women bring ointments and cloths to wrap the body and prepare it for eternity. In this account, she apparently comes to the tomb empty-handed. All she has is her grief. The 14th-century mystic Meister Eckhart wrote that it is “[a] wonder that in such sore distress she was even able to weep. She stood there because she loves, she wept because she mourned.” She mourned, because she had lost her Lord, and with that loss, she had lost every shred of joy and hope. Her world was dark, not just on the outside, but on the inside, too.
Every human being who has ever lived, who lives now, and who will ever live has known or will know such moments of deep, paralyzing sadness and despair. These are moments that shatter us, which make huge cracks in the foundations of our lives, and which, to paraphrase Thomas Paine “that try [our] souls.” The loss of a parent or grandparent or other close relatives, a husband, or wife, or God forbid a child – such losses sometimes leave wounds so deep that they never heal, but just scab over. So we can fully understand how Mary felt on that dark, dark morning.
We Christians don’t believe in a God who’s just a “Good Time Charley” and promises us nothing but sweetness and light. Our God is a God who’s with us at all times and in all places, especially in those moments and places where we stumble in the dark, just as Mary did on that first Easter morning.
One writer, Debie Thomas, recounts her experiences last weekend when attending the conference “Why Christian 2019.” She writes: “If I went to the conference expecting An Answer — a single, coherent, and conclusive answer to the question, ‘Why Christian?’ I didn’t hear it. What I heard instead are variations on a theme — the theme of hope in the midst of struggle. As in: here is what happened when the pain, trauma, loss, and disappointment of my life bumped up against the inexplicable love of God. Here’s what it felt like when mortality’s ‘no’ collided with divinity’s ‘yes’ … In my own life, I am finding it increasingly true that clarity, hope, and healing come when I am willing to linger in hard and barren places, places where the usual platitudes fall flat, and all easy answers prove inadequate. Jesus comes in the darkness, and sometimes it takes a long time to recognize him. He doesn’t look the way I expect him to look. He doesn’t let me cling to my old ideas. He disappears again just as I grab hold of him. But he comes, he calls my name, and in that instant, I recognize both myself and him.”[1]
Things are not clear in the dark. Even things that are familiar, even common, in the daylight, become mysterious, eerie, and confusing in the dark. Mary, and later, Peter and the other disciple, see but don’t understand or immediately believe. “They’re in the dark so it’s understandable not to see what’s right in front of their faces, to think rightly, or hear accurately. But even in the dark we discover that there is Easter light because Jesus works in the dark. Even when you may not see or recognize his presence. Even when you may be totally oblivious to what’s happening around you. Even when you think he’s forgotten you or even think that he’s still dead, even then – maybe especially then – Jesus is at work in mysterious ways, leaving traces of his presence for us to see — like an empty tomb with linen wrappings lying there. It was still dark but Jesus, the light of the world, shines in that darkness. Darkness is not necessarily demonic but [it is] a domain where we dare resurrection to happen and resurrection does happen. Jesus’ resurrection redeems the darkness and makes it a place of new life and hope. Jesus infiltrates the dark to reclaim darkness as a context for his ministry.”[2]
Darkness is not dark to God; even in what we call darkness, God works his plan.
And it was precisely in the dark where Mary discovered a new and glorious beginning.
For some wounds are miraculously healed…
“[S]he turned round and saw Jesus standing, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15 Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16 Jesus said to her, “Mary.” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rab-bo′ni!” (which means Teacher)… Mary Mag′dalene went and said to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”
The darkness was torn to shreds! The horrible sadness was replaced by an indescribable joy!
By any measure, this is a remarkable story. It is remarkable because it’s been told and retold for the last twenty centuries by people just like us, people who have kept it alive, people who have kept the flame of faith burning in defiance of the darkness, sometimes against great opposition.
It is remarkable because it’s true.
Yet, when we read about Simon Peter shaking his head in total incomprehension or Mary mistaking the risen Christ for the gardener, we can nod in understanding; we get it, because that’s us. In our world, things that seem too good to be true usually are.
But God always surprises us. God does not choose perfect people (probably because there aren’t any); God chooses imperfect people, people with flaws, common people, people just like us, and makes them perfect instruments to carry out his plan. And he calls us, by name, and we answer in the words of that beloved old hymn:
Just as I am, without one plea
But that thy blood was shed for me,
And that thou bidd’st me come to thee,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Which brings us back to that garden, to the moment when Jesus calls Mary by name, and she recognizes him. That was the precise moment when the whole world changed, and not just for Mary, but for all of us, too.
And so today, we proclaim:
The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!
Yes! He is! And here we are today, once again gathered to observe and celebrate that incredible event, the most important event in all of human history.
Suddenly, Mary’s tears were replaced by a sunny smile and the breathless word “rabboni!” – teacher. Her sadness was now just a memory, and hope – incredible, miraculous hope – filled her being. And Jesus then commands her to go back and tell the others what she has heard and seen. She did, and we are here today because of it.
Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears, within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
Is anything weighing on you this morning? Did you bring burdens did you here today? Guilt? Sorrows? Whatever they are, hear this: Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, has taken all of them onto himself. He is calling you now by name. He is addressing you personally in a tender voice. He is reaching out to draw you to himself and reconnect you to those who love you, and to the God who loved us so much that he gave his only begotten Son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have everlasting life!
So today, listen for that voice. Respond to that call. Let today be the day when all those things that have oppressed you disappear. Let God’s unending love usher you into a whole new world.
The Lord is risen! He is risen indeed!
In the Name of God, the Holy and Undivided Trinity. Amen.
[1] Thomas, Debie, “I Have Seen Jesus,” “Journey with Jesus,” https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2172-i-have-seen-the-lord
[2] Powery, the Rev. Dr. Luke A., “Infiltrating the Dark,” https://chapel.duke.edu/sites/default/files/Infiltrating%20the%20Dark%2004-20-14.pdf, adapted