EASTER VISION OF LOVE

(Preached on Easter Sunday, March 23, 2008)

Jesus said to her AMary!@  She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ARabboni!@ (which means Teacher).                                           -John 20:16

 

Three men appeared at the Pearly Gates and asked St. Peter for entrance.  St. Peter said, AAll right, tell me, what is Easter?@  The first man replied, AOh, that=s the day that some fellow discovered America, isn=t it?@  ANo, that=s wrong, and you=ll have to go below,@ said Peter.  St. Peter then asked the second man, AWhat=s Easter?@  He replied, AOh, that the day the big fat jolly man with a big bag of toys comes around.@  ANo, you=re wrong,@ said Peter.  AYou can=t come inside, either.@  Then he turned to the third man, ATell me, do you know what is Easter?@  This man really, really wanted to go to heaven, and he almost made it.  He said, AEaster?  Isn=t that the story about the man who died, was buried, and on the third day came alive and rolled the stone away from his grave?@  St. Peter shook his head positively, happy to see that someone finally had the right answer.  Then the man continued, Athen he looked out and saw his shadow, so he went back inside for six weeks of winter weather.@

 

We laugh and chuckle, yet there is a truth here.  We all struggle to understand Easter.  But we are not alone.  The first followers of Jesus struggled just as we do.  This beautiful story from John=s gospel presents us the reaction of three early followers.  As we examine it this morning, it is like a mirror held before us.  We see three people coming up against the limits of their experience, up against the limits of their faith.  Each of the three reacts differently.  As we look, the question becomes, where do you see yourself in this story?

 

Actually, Mary is the first at the tomb, but she does not look in, and we will return to her in a moment.  The first to actually look inside the empty tomb is Athe beloved disciple.@  He outraces Peter to the tomb after Mary tells them about the tomb being opened.  He gets there first, but he hesitates to go in.  He bends to look in and sees that it is empty of a body, but he does not go in.  His hesitation is understandable.  We don=t want to go in sad places.  We don=t want to go into the places of the unknown.  We don=t want to go to places of death and despair.  The dark tomb, even though empty, represents all of that.  It is not an inviting place, and even more so because the body they thought had been placed there was now gone.

 

Do those kinds of tombs exist in our lives?  Are there places where we are afraid to enter, places we don=t want to explore, places better left sealed up, hidden forever by the weight of a heavy stone?  Are there emotions we have repressed, dysfunctions we=ve learned to accept, memories we will not acknowledge, sins we dare not name?  Are there dark tombs in our lives?  Of course there are!  And like Athe beloved disciple@ when the stones are rolled away from them and they are opened to the light of day, we hesitate to go in.  We much prefer to remain outside where it is more comfortable, where we at least know what to expect.

 

Then there is Peter, who is the first of the three to actually go into the tomb and look around.  Peter, the one who is brash just bulls his way in, full steam ahead and all that.  Peter is willing to barge in where most fear to tread, he wants to know what is in there, he wants to see the evidence.  He looks, he takes it all in, but there is nothing certain, nothing concrete, no proof of anything except the body is missing.  And so he goes home, scratching his head, still wondering.

 

Then there is Mary.  We hear more of her story today than we do that of Peter or the other disciple.  Which is perhaps as it should be, for undoubtedly more of us identify with Mary than we do with the disciples.  After all, the disciples always seem to have center stage.  They are like the clergy.  They seem closer to Jesus.  They are Asupposed@ to believe.  But Mary Magdalene is always on the fringes.  We see her often in the gospels, but always more like part of the scenery rather than at center stage.  Except for this one moment.

 

So many of us live our lives on the fringes, in the background.  We go about our daily tasks, we are faithful in our work, we even give to the support of the church, but we do not take center stage.  We leave that to others, to the leaders.  So many of us have been caught in lives of senseless self-gratification, seeking fulfillment, not quite knowing where to find it, following the crowd, doing what the world tells us to do, allowing ourselves to be used and manipulated, because we thought that would bring us love.  But we find it didn=t.  We find it only brought heartache, and loneliness, and despair. 

 

So we find ourselves among the graves and the tombs, searching, longing for something to cling to from our past.  We cling to the faith of our childhood, the faith we learned before we were confirmed.  We cling to the old ideas about God and Jesus, the old stories and experiences which once worked for us long, long ago.  They are not bad.  They once held great power, and at one time they were necessary, for they brought us to life.  They saved us from our self-destructive ways.  They were good.  But now they are memories.  They no longer hold the same power they once had, they have died, but we don=t want to let them go. 

It is tough to let go of images and expectations.  We hold onto them long after they have died C of our husband or wife and what our marriage was going to be like.  Of our sons or daughters, the dreams we had for them which they didn=t fulfill, because they were our dreams, not theirs.  Of ourselves and what we would do to change the world.  Of the church and how it would save us.  We cling to the old images in so many areas of our lives, in so many of our relationships.  Just like Mary Magdalene, clinging to the past, scared to death of the future.

 

Martin Luther once spent three days in a deep depression over something that had gone wrong.  On the third day his wife came downstairs dressed in mourning clothes.  AWho=s dead?@ he asked her.  AGod,@ she replied.  Luther rebuked her, saying, AWhat do you mean, God is dead?  God cannot die.@  AWell,@ she replied, Athe way you=ve been acting I was sure He had!@  We so easily get caught in that trap.  Just as Mary did. Because we don=t know what will replace what we once knew so well.  So we come in fear and trembling on Easter morning, looking to find those old , reassuring images of God and Jesus, only to find the tomb empty.  The images are gone.

 

That is what we discover on Easter if all we encounter is the empty tomb.  The empty tomb makes for dramatic reading.  It can provide grist for the theological sermon mill.  But it cannot produce faith.  It cannot produce new life.

 

Easter did not dawn on Mary at the sight of an empty tomb.  It only came when the one mistaken for a gardener spoke her name.  A voice remembered from before its dying utterances on a cross became the living voice speaking her name and calling Mary back to life.

 

What does it take to believe in the Risen Christ?  Is it an act of will?  If someone says to me, ABelieve in the risen Christ,@ is there a switch I can throw that does that?  In our urbane, educated culture, how can you convince anyone of the truth of the Jesus story?  Especially the resurrection part.  Certainly quoting the Bible won=t do it. 

 

It=s the tears that are the key.  Mary=s tears.  She is there at the grave sobbing her eyes out, because of the relationship she had with Jesus.  The love she had known from him and the love she had for him.  That love, the source of life from our God, is what gave her the Easter vision.  Through the blur of her tears she see the risen Christ.