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April 4, 2010—Easter Sunday

Lectionary Texts: Acts 10:34-43; Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24; 1 Corinthians 15:19-26; John 20:1-18

Sermon Text: John 20:1-18

A New Worldview

They thought Jesus was dead. All of them. They watch Him die, terribly. Then they went home, their worlds shattered, all of their reference point suddenly gone. Everything they had planned for, hoped for, dashed. All their ambitions and dreams, evaporated. It had been a very lonely Passover Sabbath Saturday--empty, still. The world went on, but for them it was numb, as if nothing mattered now. They couldn't make sense of it--couldn't even comprehend what the last several years had meant. Had it meant anything at all? Had it all been a protracted delusion? What was true now, and how would you even know?

Sunday morning came, the first day of a new week. He had been hastily buried by noble but hurried disciples who had done the best they could to bury His body with proper dignity that Friday afternoon. She had wanted to say something, anything to Him, but how can you do that when the one you love is hanging, twisting in pain and dying, up above you on an execution cross? It was more than most people could bear to look at. Now it was over, His pain ended and His broken body lay still in a stone tomb. Late, the previous evening she had quietly and diligently prepared expensive and fragrant spices--a final act of devotion and love to her fallen Lord. She would finish the job of preparing His body for burial, and see that face for one last time. She had slept a little and woke up early to do what faithful women always do--to serve with patient diligence when no one is else is awake, much less taking any notice.

You could say it was an impractical mission. The Roman soldiers had been set to guard the tomb. She would simply tell them to roll the stone away for her. Perhaps they would do so, if they saw the determination and passion in her eyes. Perhaps they would allow this solemn act of love by these common Jewish women. The night air was cold and damp as she walked towards the garden cemetery, her fear suppressed by love as she picked her way among the graves. She had noted the exact tomb well, and even in the first glimmers of the dawn she would not mistake it--a new tomb, only just chiseled out of the rock face. As she approached the spot, her blood ran cold and her stomach turned inside her. No! The tomb had been broken open, and the guards had fled. Who could add such insult to an already cruel and evil death! Could they not even leave his dead body alone? Who would desecrating His grave? Was this the work of the Temple authorities? Why?

Weeping and stumbling she turned and fled into the city, hardly noticing the looks from the gate watchmen, running to the house where Peter was, with the other men. Choking on her tears she blurted out the news to them that the Lord's body was missing.

Perhaps out of anger or disbelief Peter and John ran to the tomb, the swifter John getting there first. It was as Mary had said--the tomb had been opened and the body gone. Curiously the death cloths had been peeled off His body and then carefully laid aside. The head cloth was even rolled up. No grave robber would have taken the time to do this! What could this mean? The disciples did not yet understand. Faced with nothing more to do or say, they walked slowly away, their footsteps heavy, dejected and confused, powerless and unable even to prevent this final insult to Jesus. Scripture tells us that simply--they went home.
But Mary. She didn't go home. She stayed. Why?

Mary cried. She could not stop crying. It was as if her already shattered world was spinning around her, out of control. Was this how Jesus had felt on the cross, that God had abandoned her world, abandoned her? Even her simple act of loving devotion had been thwarted. Even this. God had gone away, and nothing made sense.

Distraught, Mary bent down and peered into the empty tomb. Why?

She did not want to go anywhere else. Even in this traumatic moment, perhaps especially now, she was as close to Jesus as she could be. Here was the last place she had seen His body. Maybe here she could catch a fading sense of Him, the aroma of the last place she was with Him?

Looking for Jesus among the dead: Maybe that's the best anyone can do when it's clear that Jesus is dead.

Many people are not a big fan of holidays. Some people dread Christmas, and would rather it was omitted from the calendar. All that jolly family stuff only serves to remind them of the family they never had, or the family that they once were a part of. For some of us, Easter may be the same. The high point of the Christian year, the crescendo of the cycle of worship! This day of all days is when we who follow Christ, celebrate the most wonderful truth of all--the imminence and experience of the living Lord Jesus Christ, who has leapt from the tomb into our very hearts!

But for many, Jesus is a distant idea. Maybe we have never known this closeness to God that others at church speak of so easily. Maybe Easter just reminds us that once Jesus was so close, the Spirit was so much with us, but it's been a very long time indeed since we had that sense. For us, maybe for you, the Easter story reminds us only that God seems very far away indeed. So far that I'm not sure we would recognize Him anymore. Even if God does still exist, He would not recognize me. We are estranged. Standing in a cemetery at night is perhaps as good a place as any to try to recall a God passed from us. To stand close to His grave, remember His voice, and dream of the brush of His garment, the touch of His hand, His breath. Here is scant comfort, but it's all we have to hold on to.

When we have lost all that we believe in, it may be that the best we can do is prepare spices to worship the God we once knew, and to get up early in the morning and diligently, lovingly, determinedly, go and seek Him where we last saw Him. Those who stay home, may well miss what God is going to do.

Mary stayed, wept and kept looking. I like Mary a lot for doing this. Even when her world is falling apart, she is no quitter. She stays and searches. So God sends two angels to her.

If you read the Bible you may be reminded of the transfiguration, or maybe further back, a time when three angels came to meet with Abraham. But here there are only two angels in the tomb. Where is the third? Why, He is right behind Mary. Mary has to turn around to see Him. And like the other, two He is talking to her. What is He saying? "What do you cry? Who are you looking for?" Yes, she is both crying and looking. Seek and ye shall find.

It may at first seem odd to us that Mary is now nose-to-nose with Jesus Christ and is even speaking with Him and yet she does not recognize the very person that she is looking for. How can that be? Well perhaps one answer is that she knows that Jesus is dead, and this person she is speaking with is very much alive. He is a man or an angel, but is alive and speaking. This is not within her frame of reference. Still overcome with emotion she says something quite impractical. There is no judgment of this “gardener” in her voice--she just wants her Lord back, right now, and she will figure out the next steps later.

Is it possible, do you think, that God may be talking to us as clear as day, and that we are so wrapped up in our own perspectives that we might miss Him completely?

Then it comes. It happens. The whole story spins around this single moment. Christ, alive, opens His mouth and says a single word. Not any word. But a name. Not any name either, but her name: "Mary!"

Mary turns again. Does she now completely turn to Him? Her eyes are opened as if a new world has broken upon her. Instantly her perspective swings 180 degrees into line with God's and she exclaims in her mother tongue a single word too--and not any word, but her special name for Him: Rabbouni! Teacher! They have named each other. He has spoken over her and she has received her name and returned worship to Him. Jesus is unexpectedly alive. Mary is alive again, and they are together.

As she later told her account to John, she did not even recall what else she said in that moment, if anything. Just that she wanted to throw herself at Jesus and cling to Him and never let go.

I can't help but think of the difference between Mary and Peter and John. Dejected and utterly forlorn they simply walked away. How many have walked from Jesus, only to lose sight of Him, become discouraged, and simply “gone home”?

Those who seek, find. Those who ask (even when they don't honestly know who or what they are asking), will be answered. Jesus does not hide from us long. He does sometimes draw back a little. Perhaps so we might grow.

I have heard it said that "Character is doing the right thing when no-one is looking." Perhaps we Christ-followers could say that worship is following Jesus' commands to love God and love others, even when it seems like God is nowhere to be found. In seeking we shall find Him, in serving He will show himself to us. As we worship Him with our intentional obedience, we will hear Him speak our names, and we shall be made new again.

This morning, Easter morning, may Jesus Christ speak your name over you, may you find Him alive again, and may you return worship to Him in the newness of a breaking dawn.