Good News That Seeks Us Out

John 20:1-10; 11-23

Hallelujah!  Christ is risen!  (He is risen indeed).  Happy Resurrection Day!

It’s been said that “Easter means you can put the truth in a grave but you can’t keep it there.”[1]  Jesus, who is the way and the truth and the life (John 14:4), was put in a grave, but he couldn’t be kept there. 

This morning, we’ve enjoyed a wonderful Easter breakfast, watched the kids squeal with delight as they hunted for Easter eggs, waved Alleluia wands and rung bells, and listened to joyful Easter music.  We confess resurrection because God is the God who brings life to the dead.  Today is a bright day full of great joy and celebration.

But according to the book of John, the first Easter began in darkness.  This is appropriate, because Christians know that you can’t fully appreciate the light of Easter unless you’ve first walked with Jesus through the darkness of his betrayal on Maundy Thursday and his death on Good Friday. 

Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb “while it was still dark” (20:1).  The story starts out with Mary being literally and figuratively in the dark.  First, it’s physically dark because it’s early in the morning before sunrise.  Second, it’s emotionally a dark time for Mary as she grieves over the brutal death of her friend and Lord.  And finally, it’s a spiritually dark time for Mary and for all of Jesus’ followers - they have to cope with the trauma of having seen Jesus, who they were sure was God’s promised Messiah and the Savior of the world, being terribly beaten, whipped, and finally, crucified.  Yes, darkness surrounds Mary as she comes to the tomb.

Barbara Brown Taylor notes that “it was a dangerous place for her to be seen, at the tomb of a folk hero executed by the state.  If she had listened harder, she might have heard camera shutters clicking in the bushes for the wanted posters that would go up later that afternoon.  If the Committee on Un-Roman Activities wanted to wipe out the rest of the nest, all they had to do was follow this woman back home.   She might as well have been wearing a t-shirt that said, ‘This way to the men folk.’”[2]

In any case, Mary Magdalene sees that the stone has been moved from the tomb and assumes that the body of Jesus has been stolen.  Mary reports this news to Peter and the beloved disciple (John), who then race to the tomb.  John was the youngest of the disciples, so it makes sense that he would be able to outrun Peter and reach the tomb before him.  But it’s Peter who enters the darkness of the tomb first and sees the linen wrappings lying empty.

Then John also goes into the tomb and he sees and believes – but notice, it’s not that John believes Jesus has been resurrected, he simply believes his body has been stolen as Mary reported, “for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.  Then the disciples returned to their homes” (John 20:9-10).

Back to their homes!  As if the story is over.  No lingering to see if Jesus’ mysterious promises come true.  No apparent hope for a different outcome.  In other words, as far as they’re concerned, an empty tomb equals a stolen body.  Case closed. 

William Willimon says, “If there is a resurrection it is obviously not some projection or wish-fulfillment on the part of the grieving disciples.  They are quite content to chalk all of this up to the power of death.  The stealing of the body is simply one final indignity worked upon crucified Jesus and his grieving followers.”[3]

But Mary stays, weeping, and when she bends over to look into the tomb, she sees two angels sitting where the body of Jesus has been lying.  Notice, the angels don’t proclaim the resurrection.  They simply ask her why she’s weeping.  Mary then turns around and sees someone standing there, someone she doesn’t recognize, even when he speaks to her.  She thinks the speaker is the gardener, until Jesus calls her by her name, “Mary.” 

That’s all he says.  He doesn’t tell her about his resurrection, he simply calls her by name.  Yet at that moment Mary knows who is speaking to her; she knows that the body has not been stolen; she knows that God had done something truly new and wonderful and amazing in the world.

Jesus tells her not to hold on to him.  The Risen Christ is on the move and is not to be held by anyone, even by those who love and follow him.  Like the Risen Christ, Mary also is on the move.  She goes back to the unbelieving male disciples and preaches to them: “I have seen the Lord.”  Then “she [tells] them that he had said these things to her.” (20:18)

It’s interesting that we’re not told directly how the disciples responded to Mary’s sermon, although we can infer that they didn’t respond well.  Luke’s Gospel says that the women’s words seemed to them an “idle tale,” and later that evening the disciples are still cowering behind locked doors.  Suddenly the Risen Christ appears before them.  He breathes on them and gives them the Holy Spirit and the power to forgive the sins of others.

But perhaps most amazing of all, Christ came through their locked doors.  Death could not keep him away.  Neither could the despair and resignation of his followers.  “He came back to them, even through their locked doors.”[4]

Willimon notes that “It would have been news enough that Christ rose from the dead, but the good news was that he rose for us…Scripture is not a story of how we kept seeking God.  As we demonstrated on Good Friday and Holy Saturday, we can adjust to death.  We can get along just fine without Jesus.  So back to work, back to what we were doing before Jesus called us.  Nobody expected, even less wanted, a resurrection.  But on Easter we were encountered by a Christ who was unwilling to let the story of us and God end in death.  Easter is the story of how God keeps – despite us – seeking us.”[5]

That is good news indeed – that the Risen Christ will not let our stories end in death, that he will never stop seeking after us.

The Academy Award winning actress Marcia Gay Harden tells a story in a recent issue of Guideposts magazine (March 2008) of when she was a struggling young actress, around 1982.  Like many of her peers, she would rush to casting calls in between waiting tables.  One day, two women came into her restaurant, sat in her section, and told her they had seen her in a live performance recently and wanted to offer her a job.  Marcia was thrilled and asked what the part was

“Probably not what you think,” said one of the women.  “Snow White.”

“Snow White?  Where’s the production?” Marcia asked.

“Georgetown University Hospital,” the other woman said.  “We’re from the Make-A-Wish Foundation.  A seven-year-old girl named Bonnie is dying of pediatric cancer.  She doesn’t have much more than a month to live.  Snow White is her favorite movie.  Our foundation grants wishes to terminally ill children.  And Bonnie’s wish is to meet Snow White.”  Marcia readily agreed.   She re-watched the Disney move and thoroughly buried herself in the character.  Soon, she could rattle off the names of all Seven Dwarfs without a hitch.

The morning of the performance she got into costume at home.  She must have been a curious sight as she made her way to the hospital – how many times do you see Snow White at the wheel of a yellow convertible VW Bug?

Before she entered the sick girl’s room, Marcia took a deep breath and steeled herself the way she did before every performance.  She then walked into the room, only to be stopped cold.  She’d been prepared to meet a sick girl.  But the girl sitting on a pallet on the floor was so small and thin.  Marcia knew Bonnie was seven, but she barely looked five.

Bonnie raised her eyes and stared at Marcia.  Her face, pale as it was, lit up like a candy store.  “Snow White!” she cried.

She stood there dumbly.   Come on, something inside her said.  Pull it together.  You know what you’re here for.  Then something clicked.  She wasn’t just a struggling actress playing Snow White.  She was Snow White.  “Hello, Bonnie!” she said in dulcet tones.  “I’m so glad to see you!  I’m so sorry that Grumpy and Sneezy and Doc (she named all seven) weren’t able to make it!”

They talked for a while.  Marcia told Bonnie about the handsome prince and gave her gifts.  “Snow White?” Bonnie said, grabbing her hand.

“Yes, Bonnie?”

“When I die, will the prince kiss me and then I’ll wake up again?”

The room fell silent.  How do you answer a child’s question like that?  It had never struck her that Bonnie wanted to meet Snow White to answer a life-after-death question.  What could she say to this brave, beautiful, honest girl?  She closed her eyes for a second and tried to imagine what Bonnie must be feeling.  How lonely it must be to be this young and this sick.

“No, Bonnie,” she said, “it’s even better.  When you go to heaven, God will kiss you and then you’ll wake up again.”[6]

Bonnie died just a week later.

The little girl was put in a grave, but because of the resurrection of Jesus, we know she can’t be kept there.  The Easter promise of new life means that Christ rose from the grave, and not only that, but that he rose for people like Bonnie, and for my uncle, and for Deb’s grandmother and your parents, your husband, your dear friend.  And it means that he rose from the dead for you and for me as well.

In life, in death, in life beyond death, this is our great hope, the promise that God will not let a little thing like death defeat his love for us.  Hallelujah!  Christ is risen!  (He is risen indeed).  Amen.