Reading

John 20.1–18 – Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, ‘They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.’ 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. 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 Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.’ 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.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’ She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” ’ Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord’; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Sermon

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, alleluia!

It was only three short days ago that we were sitting in the side chapel here at St. Mary’s observing the Watch, that time on the evening of Maundy Thursday when we enter into Jesus’ time in the Garden of Gethsemane, the disciples having been asked to stay awake with Christ as he prayed in anguish to his Father. Even during the solemnity of that observance, I had to have a wry smile. As Hugh and I were leaving church afterward, I looked down at my not-so-smart watch to check the time, whereupon it informed me that I had been so still and calm that it had added a nap to my activity schedule! A resonance in this digital age with the disciples inability to stay awake with Jesus. Nevertheless I assure you that I did stay awake for the whole of the Watch!

What a contrast with this morning, then. Oh, my goodness, there was a lot of running going on that ‘first day of the week’! What would it have been like if the disciples had smart watches or a Fitbit. Their heart rate and blood-oxygen data would have been all over the place that morning! I don’t know about you but – purely in terms of my fitness – I think I would be like Simon Peter, lagging behind a younger, fitter disciple racing to the empty tomb before me, me pitching up puffing and wheezing in a solid last place. But I digress….

Because the first of our runners that first Easter Day was Mary Magdalene, running back to the disciples as soon as she realised the stone had been rolled away from the tomb. Though Mary is the only woman mentioned in John’s version of this story, we get the sense that there were other women with her from the other gospels, So perhaps they were running with her as she raced back to tell the others what she had found.

John doesn’t even tell us if Mary had looked inside the tomb before jumping to the conclusion that someone had taken the body away. It’s hard to tell why she assumed the body was gone. Maybe she thought the tomb had only been ‘on loan’ as a temporary burial place, just to get through the Sabbath, and its actual owner had removed the body. Maybe she thought the religious leaders had moved the body before this tomb became some kind of unwelcome shrine. What is clear is that Mary thinks Jesus is still dead.

But Mary’s words crack like a starting pistol – BANG! – sending Peter and the other disciple racing toward the garden to see for themselves. And this is where the scene becomes almost comical. You can practically hear the chase music as one disciple gets there first, but doesn’t go in, and the other runs right past him to duck into the empty tomb! Well, how about that! There is no body here. Just some grave clothes lying around and a head cloth that has been carefully rolled up and placed on the ground. Peter and his friend simply cannot comprehend that the impossible has happened. So, they leave.

Before we condemn them for their lack of faith, or even for their short memories that can’t remember Jesus’ own words about being the resurrection and the life, we might want to stop and consider how we, too, walk away from the things we can’t explain. When our view of God is challenged, when God doesn’t work in our lives the way we think God ought to work, how often do we give up and walk away, muttering to ourselves and anyone else who will listen?

But Mary comes back into the story just in time, to remind us that there is more than one way to miss the miracle of resurrection. She must have run right back to the tomb behind those racing disciples, because later in John’s version of the resurrection story here she is again, weeping as they walk away. As she bends over to peer into the empty tomb, she discovers that it is no longer empty. It was empty just a moment ago, but now there are two – not one, but two – angels, sitting there calmly, asking a simple question: “Woman, why are you weeping?”

This might seem an odd question, since Mary is standing in front of a new grave. It’s a place where people normally weep. But they know something she hasn’t quite accepted yet. Mary is still stuck in the “He’s dead” reality of her own limited understanding. She has not grasped the impossible fact that Jesus is alive. She can only answer, “They’ve taken him away, and I don’t know where they’ve put him.”

As she turns around, she sees a man standing there, who asks her the same question, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?”

Her answer is a repetition, “I don’t know where they’ve taken him.” She is stuck in her grief, this firm belief that Jesus is dead, and she says the same thing she has been saying all along to this man she doesn’t recognise, so she thinks he must be the gardener.

And aren’t we all sometimes like Mary, too? When God does not fit neatly into the box of our beliefs, we might just walk away, as those racing disciples did, or we might act like Mary: senselessly, stubbornly repeating our view of truth, even when evidence to the contrary stands right in front of us.

Then, Jesus says her name. “Mary,” is all it takes for the sheep to recognise the shepherd’s voice. And everything changes. In that moment, the darkness begins to lift. In that moment, death no longer has the final word. In that moment, the world is remade, not through spectacle, not through power as we might imagine it, but through recognition, through relationship, through love that refuses to let go.

“Rabbouni!” She turns. She sees. She knows. Christ is risen. And this is not simply a private moment of comfort. It is the beginning of a proclamation that will echo through the ages. Because the risen Jesus sends her: “Go to my brothers and say to them…” Mary Magdalene becomes the first apostle to the apostles, the first witness of the resurrection, the first to carry the news that changes everything.

It is the news that Peter speaks of in the reading from Acts: that Jesus Christ, who was put to death on a tree, has been raised by God on the third day; that he is Lord of all; that through him forgiveness of sins is proclaimed to all who believe.

This is not just a story of something that happened long ago. This is the turning point of all history. Because Christ is risen, death is not the end. Because Christ is risen, sin does not have the final word. Because Christ is risen, nothing, nothing in all creation, can ultimately separate us from the love of God.

And perhaps most astonishing of all: because Christ is risen, then God meets us not in spite of our brokenness, but within it. Mary does not arrive at the tomb with perfect faith. She arrives with tears. And it is there that she encounters the risen Lord. Which means that Easter is not just for the strong in faith, or the certain, or the joyful. Easter is for all of us.

For those who come this morning full of joy, Christ is risen. For those who come weary, uncertain, carrying burdens, Christ is risen. For those who feel as though they are still standing at the tomb, wondering what has been lost, Christ is risen. And the invitation of Easter is this: to hear our name spoken by the risen Christ. To recognise him calling us, meeting us, sending us.

Because the world still needs this good news. A world still marked by suffering, by conflict, by uncertainty. A world where grief and fear so often seem to have the upper hand. Into that world, we are sent. Not with all the answers. Not with perfect understanding. But with a message. “I have seen the Lord.” That is enough. Because that is everything.

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed, alleluia!