Mary Magdalene in the garden with Jesus, detail of mosaic in Resurrection Chapel, Washington National Cathedral
Easter Sunday, Year B
John 20:1-18
Alleluia! Christ is Risen!
This Sunday marks the reason for our joy as Christians even in the face of a world that gives us little reason to believe we have any joy or hope at all. But we proclaim this truth almost as an act of defiance to evil.
But let’s back up a bit to the first part of our Gospel this morning. You will notice that it does not announce the Resurrection right off the bat, but rather Mary and the other two disciples’ confusion. Jesus is risen! But even his friends don’t understand. It’s been a painful and fearful few days. They didn’t seem to get the message Jesus had repeatedly told them–that he would die and rise again, that the temple would be destroyed but raised again on the third day. I mean, c’mon! What does that really mean? In a culture so fixated on facts, we don’t understand the distinction between fact and truth. We’ve made our understanding of life so binary and compartmentalized that we really have lost the ability to comprehend a sacred mystery. Faith is about what we believe to be true without having proof. Because God knows that proof can stare us in the face yet we will manipulate it to bend to how we understand things, how we can make it make sense. The Resurrection is the truth, and even the proof of Jesus himself was unrecognizable by those that knew him best because it was incomprehensible.
Mary comes alone to the tomb, apparently for no other reason than to mourn her friend and teacher. When she sees the stone rolled away, her first conclusion is that his body has been stolen. It would not be far-fetched to jump to that conclusion because the Roman idea of crucifixion was to shame and humiliate the condemned so that their story, their very being would cease to exist in future history and memory. Where is Jesus? is her desperate cry. “They have taken him away,” she runs to tell the other disciples.
While Peter and the other disciple rush to check it out, they peek into the tomb and see the burial cloths neatly folded and have no answer for her. The two men go back home. Mary is not budging. She stands outside the tomb, weeping, reminding us of when Jesus wept at the tomb of his friend, Lazarus. We weep when we’ve lost the people we love. So does God, apparently. Love is one of those unprovable truths that has power which we struggle to believe or understand, even when we experience it. This Gospel “conceives of relationship with Jesus and with God in the language of love and friendship.”
First the beings of light ask Mary, “Why are you weeping?” She seems so overwhelmed by her grief that hearing from angels or light beings doesn’t even seem to phase her. Jesus, whom she mistakes as the gardener, asks her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” It is a compassionate inquiry. She answers the beings of light with the same words she said to the disciples.”I don’t know where they have taken him.” At first it appears that these two are speaking as strangers, not seeing or understanding each other. But, “misunderstanding is uncovered through conversation, and a lack of recognition [can] shift to insight.” This is how we come to understand each other, my friends. Like Mary turned to face this unknown gardener, the Gospel writer is indicating to us that we, too, must turn and look if we want to encounter the truth. We must seek understanding and talk with those standing in front of us. Who knows? We might encounter Jesus in the strangers we meet. And, like Mary, sometimes we just have to sit with our grief and wait. Be still and know that I am God, the Psalmist reminds us.
We cannot encounter the truth if we are always in our heads, always trying to make sense of it, always busy, always on the move. Mary stays in this garden, alone, despite her fear, despite her loneliness, despite her confusion. She wants to know where Jesus is. She would care for him even in death. In the moment of deepest confusion, she finally turns around and faces the stranger, and Jesus speaks her name, “Mary.” And in that moment, she knows! In an instant, it is like the second a match is lit, her understanding is personal, intimate, the true voice of a friend that she recognizes. “Mary.” It could be your name spoken.
In our confusion and worry about the brokenness of the world, our fears about the future, our despair at where God is, our constant seeking out Jesus, “Where have they taken him?” still reverberates down the millenia and we are still asking that question, “Where is Jesus?” But be still for a moment and hear your name, not with your mind, but with your heart…”Cathy, Janice, Sally, Steve, David, Eleanor, Frances, Colleen, John, Colin…” Listen. For it was heart recognition that opened the eyes of Mary Magdalene and she knew the truth. Life had, indeed, triumphed over death! Her Rabbouni was risen! He defeated the torture and shame and fear and death and he was, and is, alive!
Mary became the apostle to the apostles. Don’t cling to me, Jesus tells her. You have known me well, but you can’t keep me for yourself. I have risen, I have triumphed over the powers of this world for all people. So, she was the first one to proclaim to the world, “I have seen the Lord!” It is important that we get this connection here. That a woman would become the first apostle, who would go and make the announcement to the other apostles, and then they to others and on and on and on, is extraordinary. By Jesus selecting her to be the first messenger, she became the first witness to a proclamation that the apostle Paul would later pick up on, “There is no longer Jew or Greek; there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all of you are one in Christ Jesus.” Gal. 3:28
Jesus did not conquer death only to cherry pick who would benefit from that great act of love. What a petty love that would have been! That great act of love was for all, everyone, for those you think least deserve it. Jesus died so that all of God’s creation would be restored to life–eternal life.
I’ll remind you that just a few days before this, he knew Judas would betray him but he still fed him, he still washed his feet, and he still prayed for him. What kind of love is this? The same love that spoke Mary’s name in the garden also fed the mouth of the one who deceived him, washed the feet of the one who betrayed him, and forgave the one who condemned him. This is the way death and evil are defeated. Not by weapons or power or greed or fear, but through love. It does not make a lick of sense, but it is true. That kind of love is beyond our ability to truly comprehend, sort of like rising from the dead, but trust that it is so. Where is Jesus? Sitting next to you. Mowing your lawn, bathing your feet, sitting with you in grief, celebrating at your party, asking to be accepted. Like Mary, you too can say, “I have seen the Lord!” in some of the strangest and least expected places, and I believe it to be true. Alleluia! Christ is Risen! The Lord is Risen indeed! Alleluia!