The Easter sermon 2008, Don Portwood
In the other three gospel accounts of the Easter story, Mary Magdalene is the first woman mentioned, along with other women, who go to the tomb early in the morning to anoint Jesus dead body with spices. This morning in John’s gospel, it’s only Mary Magdalene, going alone (with no spices)…. early in the morning…. to the tomb, while it was still dark.
She’s unaware yet, that love is stronger than death…but she heads out anyway, early in the morning, while it was still dark, dark outside and dark inside, no street lights to guide her way, the sun waiting below the horizon, not even the morning glow of hope to accompany here.
She was alone. Alone in the darkness with her grief and loss, her fears and anger. Her teacher, her master, her Jesus, her hope had been killed crucified by the religious authorities and the empire. But on she walked, while it was still dark to the graveyard, to the cave, to the place they had placed Jesus’ crucified body, to be near, to be close to where his body was; in the dark, in the shock and grief, by the grave, in her pain and anger and tears.
While it was still dark. Isn’t that about where we start this morning?
As a nation in the dark, in grief, in anger, in shock?
Still fighting a war founded on lies after 5 years, hundreds of thousands of deaths, soldiers and civilians wounded, disabled, losing limbs, experiencing life changing head traumas from the explosions of cars and IED’s and people.
Led by an administration whose dreams of empire still try to tell us that this war has been a successful endeavor, though the financial cost of this war, 12 billion dollars a month is affecting every facet of life in this nation, especially for those who aren’t rich, who haven’t benefited by an economy and policies tilted in favor of the rich. While it was still dark. Lights go out in home after home, in a tidal wave of home foreclosures whose root cause is the deregulation of the banking industry.
While it was still dark, our lazy media, anxious for any news in the 6 week lull before the next democratic primary in Pennsylvania, pounce on a few words out of the millions of a UCC preacher in Chicago, accusing him of hate speech and hating white people. This is the same Pastor – who when asked before a worship service to greet 10 German Christians who were visiting Trinity Church that morning, not only greeted them, but spoke and prayed with them in German, then during the service, introduced them to the rest of the church, again speaking to them in German and then had the choir change one of their anthems and sing God’s praise in German (Wunderbar, Sie Nommen Wunderbar! Wonderful, Your name is Wonderful).
Tears came to some of the guests' eyes. Radical hospitality. That is a different reality from the characterization of the church and pastor as hateful or separatist.
But while it is still dark, this brother in Christ gets demonized without ever taking the time to look at what he said or why he may have said it.
While it was still dark. My list could go on and on. That’s when Mary and you and I and the religious authorities and administration and media start out this morning.
And it’s still dark when Mary gets to the tomb. She can’t see much, but she can see or feel that the stone
that covered the opening to that cave that held the body of the one she loved has been moved from the mouth of the cave.
And she knows either by intuition or by touch that Jesus body isn’t in the cave, that someone’s done something with it. So she’s returns home, in the dark, in the pain, in the grief and shock and anger to tell somebody who maybe can do something.
She probably ran to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them,
'They have taken the Sovereign out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.'
Scared and angry. How much more of this do we have to take?
How much longer do we have to tolerate this craziness?
Why would they do that? To him? To us?
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Thank God for this next section of scripture. It’s almost as if John put some comic relief into the story to break up the intensity for his reader.
“Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went towards the tomb.
The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in.
Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb.
He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.”
This section reminds me of an old episode from Seinfeld where Jerry runs into one of his old high-school classmates, someone Jerry beat in a race their senior year of school.
That’s all the guy wants to talk about, the race and how Jerry starting running before the gun went off.
In this morning’s scripture, you can just see John and Peter leaving together and running toward the tomb. John is faster and just happens to point out that he reached the tomb first. John looks in to the tomb. The darkness has begun to scatter now and the long rays from the eastern horizon are beginning to brighten the darkness of the cave. “John bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in.”
Because by now, Peter, has arrived.
He wasn’t the fastest runner, but by the time this gospel was written, he was the head of the church and so he needed to have the privilege of entering the tomb first. “Then Simon Peter came, following him (probably breathing pretty hard), and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself.
“Then the other disciple, John himself, who reached the tomb first (mentioning this for the third time), also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.”
What a great interlude. A foot race. A winner. Peter enters the tomb first, sees the grave clothes rolled up separately, but no body of Jesus. He sees, but doesn’t believe.
Then out of respect for Peter, John enters behind Peter. He sees the same thing as Peter and believes. It’s unclear what he believes, but he believed something; “for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.” Then the disciples returned to their homes. And we know nothing! We’re still in the dark.
But this story isn’t about John and Peter, it’s about Mary, so after that historical and comic interlude to let Peter enter the tomb first, we get back to Mary, who is back at the opening of the tomb. We don’t know whether she ran with Peter and John to get back there, or against her better judgment walked the painful walk of grief, one foot in front of the other, until she arrived back at the graveside. Aware this time that Jesus body wouldn’t be there.
Peter and John returned to their homes. Why didn’t Mary? What was it that allowed her to hang in there, by the empty tomb? What mustard seed of faith or faithfulness or love or fortitude kept her there by that empty grave while Peter and John went home?
Peter saw, but didn’t believe. John saw and believed something. Mary saw the same thing and hung in there, persevered in the grief.
“But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’
She said to them, ‘They have taken away my Sovereign, and I do not know where they have laid him.’”
Maybe it was to have been her last look in the tomb before she turned to go back home. One last look, one final memory to imprint on her brain that would last her a lifetime. This is the last place I saw him. So in the midst of the tears, she bent over to look into the tomb. Only this time it wasn’t empty, but full of a strange presence, two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. Speaking to her they asked her why she was weeping. She didn’t say, “Because Jesus has been crucified”.
She said, “Because I expected his body here this morning, but someone’s taken it away. I just wanted to be near him, close to him and now I can’t even to that”.
“When she had said this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? For whom are you looking?’ 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.’”
Mary hung in there through the pain, the confusion, the anger and shock, the grief covered with tears. Stayed longer than anyone else at the graveside and now is asked a second time by someone she doesn’t recognize, “Woman why are you weeping?” And again her response is simply, “Just tell me where his body is and I’ll deal with it. I’ll deal with it.” But this time, the unrecognized one says her name, “Mary”.
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Mary didn’t see and believe, she heard and believed! Heard her name said in a way that only he could say it, had said it before, with love and grace, strength and challenge. Said her name in a way that brought out the best in her, the love in her, the grace in her, the compassion in her. And she knew now - deep within her, that it was the Teacher in her presence. “Rabbouni!”
But now he wasn’t just there for her, not for her alone to hold and cling to, but for the world. Jesus said to her, “‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father/Mother. But go to my brothers and sisters and say to them, ‘I am ascending to the one who created me, to the one who created you, to my God and your God.’”
This time I’m pretty sure that Mary ran, with feet that never touched the ground, having heard, having seen, knowing now that, though love is what got Jesus killed by the principalities and the powers, they don’t have the final word. For love is stronger than death! Knowing now that though love is what got Jesus killed by the principalities and the powers, they don’t have the final word, for love is stronger than death!
The light that shone that morning into the darkness of her grief, the darkness of the grace, the darkness of our nation, that light can never be overcome.
Mary ran home with a new song, a new heart, a new purpose and a new trust that nothing, nothing can separate us from the love of God, known to us in Christ Jesus our Sovereign, neither height nor depth nor principalities nor powers, nor war, nor foreclosures, nor death nor life, nor anything in all creation. “She ran and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Sovereign’; and she told them that he had said these things to her.” And so must we!
(Your name here) __________, run home with a new song, a new heart,
a new purpose and a new trust that nothing, nothing can separate us from the love of God, known to us in Christ Jesus our Sovereign, neither height nor depth nor principalities nor powers, nor war, nor foreclosure, nor death, nor life, nor anything in all creation. Jesus has called us by name and sent us to share what we have seen and heard and know. Love is stronger than death! Tell others! Hang in there through the grief, the pain, the war, the economy, the craziness and live what you’ve seen and heard.
Do not fear the darkness! Be healed!
Love your enemies! Change the world!
Love is stronger than death, forever!
