Easter Day
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 118:1-2,14-24 Acts 10:34-43
John 20:1-18
“Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you seeking?” In the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen
We gather today on this glorious morning to celebrate the highest holy day in the Christian tradition. Many of us have walked the long and introspective journey of Lent, time spent in the wilderness of our souls and minds, time spent with others in this community to contemplate and experience the excitement of Palm Sunday followed by the agony, pain, sorrow, confusion, and somberness of Holy Week. At the outset of Lent on Ash Wednesday, I suggested that you would get what you wanted out of Lent and I pray that the season was for you one filled with new insights about yourselves and your relationship with God.
As your vicar and the one privileged to offer today’s sermon, I found myself spending a lot of time in the nuances, the theological weeds, if you will, of today’s Gospel reading from John. I mentioned this to our Bishop’s Warden, Mary, who offered some helpful tips from the Rev. Dr. Lisa Cressman, an amazingly gifted priest, theologian, and professor of preaching: simplicity....this was followed by a suggestion from a dear Catholic friend who offered his advice: Keep it simple....”He’s alive.” The suggestion to keep things simple is a great one but one that needs additional context in order for such a complex theological tenant of our faith, the resurrection of Jesus, to become “simple.”
I invite you to re-enter today’s Gospel story and put yourself in Mary’s place. In today’s reading, Mary arrives at Jesus’ tomb and finds that the stone has been rolled away from the entrance. Obviously sensing that something was wrong, she runs off to tell Simon Peter and John what has
happened. They all return, and the two men do some investigating, we’re told that John, the disciple whom Jesus loved, “saw and believed” and then the story says that the two “went back to their homes.” Thankfully, Mary sticks around, and what follows not only impacts Mary but stands to impact us all, as well.
“Woman, why are you weeping?” asks the two angels Mary finds inside the tomb. Somehow this encounter seems rather sedate. The Greek word for weeping is more accurately translated as lamenting or wailing. Remember, Mary, the disciples, and others who were following Jesus are in a total state of despair and anguish. What they had been anticipating as the rise of a new kingdom, one that would usher in a new beginning for the Jewish nation free from Roman oppression and occupation, had come crashing down with Jesus’ death. Not only was Jesus dead, but the movement was also quickly dissipating out of fear and lack of leadership. Mary was returning to the tomb to anoint the body, certainly not expecting a risen Christ. The movement is crushed and now her beloved master’s body is gone and the angels ask “Woman, why are you weeping?” This reminds me of when my mom asked me the same question after having my bike stolen from in front of the Lucky’s Supermarket when I was 9 years old...what do you mean, why am I crying? MY BIKE HAS BEEN STOLEN....good grief, mom!!!
The second time Mary hears these words are from the unrecognized person of Jesus that she presumes to be the gardener, “Woman, why are you weeping, and whom are you seeking?”
Aren't these words for us today as well? Why are you or I weeping? What is happening in our lives that break our hearts, that leaves us in doubt, confusion, anger, or pain? What hopes and dreams did we have for ourselves or our families that have been seemingly and irreparably broken? For some of us here today, it’s a medical challenge. For others, it’s the loss of a loved one or a broken relationship. Still others, it’s an ongoing battle with depression, anger, loneliness, or financial stresses. No matter our past or present, we’ve all experienced those moments when wailing and
weeping were the only ways we could express ourselves. The hope and joy that spring from Easter gives us a living Jesus that knows our pains and sorrows, our anxieties and failures. This risen Jesus brings new opportunities for healing and restoration. This risen Jesus wipes the tears from our eyes and renews our shattered expectations. This risen Jesus defeated the power of sin and death because he loves us, every single person here today, and by his grace, you won’t ever forget that.
I’m guessing each of us can relate to Mary’s circumstances and feelings. Jesus then asks a very profound question of Mary, “Who are you seeking?” At that moment, my guess is that she had no idea who she was seeking. The synoptic gospels tell us that she and other women brought spices to the tomb to anoint the body as part of the burial ritual; John, in his gospel, would have us surmise this activity. I doubt Mary went to the tomb that early Sunday morning seeking a risen Jesus; I think she went to pay respect and do what was needed as part of the burial ritual. What about us? Who are you seeking? Who am I seeking? Sometimes I think we think we’re seeking Jesus and yet we miss him all the time because we’re really not “looking.” Sometimes we’re so blinded by our circumstances that we miss the traces and hints all around us that reveal him. The psalmist reminds us that “The heavens declare the glory of God; the skies proclaim the works of his hands.” The Savior we seek is ever-present if we will but “look.”
Did you notice that while Mary was looking for Jesus, it was Jesus who found Mary? She was certainly frazzled with all that was happening: an empty tomb, two angels, and now an interaction with a gardener she didn’t recognize as Jesus. What was the trigger wherein she knew she had been found? John tells us it happens with a single word: “Mary.” He calls her by her name. You know what it’s like when you hear your name called by your spouse, your children, or others with whom you are close. Even when someone acknowledges us in the grocery store using our name, it’s just different than when we get the obligatory “hey there,” right?
When was the last time you heard Jesus call you by name? Were you sitting on a deck overlooking Lake Pend Oreille? How about when you’re enjoying a cup of coffee or a glass of wine with a close friend? What about when you’ve stood at the top of Schweitzer Mountain? For me, it’s when I hear the great organ at St John’s or the choristers offering Evensong at the National Cathedral. It’s in those moments that God I suspect we find the risen Jesus so real and present.
My friends, the reality and joy of Easter is that this risen Jesus knows us through and through. He knows intimately what makes each one of us tick: our sorrows, our joys, our concerns, our hopes, our dreams, our failures, our secrets, and our faithfulness. He knows our doubts and fears. He knows why we weep and wail and he offers to dry our tears and calm our minds. He knows each one of us by name and we are uniquely loved and are precious in his sight.
The songwriter Alfred Henry Ackley sums it up this way:
Rejoice, rejoice O Christian lift up your voice and sing Eternal Hallelujahs to Jesus Christ, the King
The hope of all who seek him, the help of all who find No other is so loving so good and kind
He lives, he lives, Christ Jesus lives today
He walks with me and talks with me along life’s narrow way He lives, he lives, salvation to impart
You ask me how I know he lives, he lives within my heart.
Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!