SCRIPTURE: John 20: 1-10
A couple of weeks ago George Cooper told me a great story about flying to Chicago, in part to visit his family. His family had told George that his brother would meet him at the airport. It didn't, however, tell George was that his brother disguise himself.
As a result, when George disembarked his plane, his brother recognized him, but George didn't recognize his brother. When, however, George's brother tried to approach him, they were separated by the people milling around. George, of course, didn't recognize his brother, so he made no effort to approach this apparent stranger.
George eventually picked up his luggage, and waited for his brother to arrive. After a long wait, George finally called his parents to ask them where his brother was. His brother had, in fact, gone to meet him, they said, but had disguised himself in a hat, beard and sweat suit. George didn't recognize his brother until his parents opened his eyes to his brother's disguised presence.
This morning's resurrection text talks a woman who didn't recognize the resurrected Christ either. Mary of Magdala was one of the women who stuck with Jesus to the very end and beyond . . . unlike most of his male followers.
She was one of the women courageously present when they crucified Jesus. However, we see Mary best in the garden where they buried Christ, on the first Sunday morning after his death.
John paints such a vivid picture of Jesus' tomb that we can almost see "the strips of linen lying there, as well as the burial cloth that had been around Jesus' head. The cloth was folded up by itself, separate from the linen."
This detailed scene clearly speaks to us of God's resurrection victory over the power of death. Initially for Mary, however, the scene is far fuzzier. She gets up so early that she must grope and stumble through the darkness to Jesus' tomb. When Mary arrives, she finds that, according to verse 1, "the stone had been removed from the entrance."
When Mary runs home to tell Peter and the other disciples that Jesus' body is gone, they race back to Joseph's garden to investigate. When they enter Jesus' tomb, the disciples see that nothing remains of Jesus in his tomb but some pieces of cloth in which they had earlier buried him.
While one of Jesus' disciples, in the words of verse 8, "saw and believed," all but Mary return to their homes. Mary, however, can't tear herself away. She simply stands outside of Jesus' tomb crying so hard that her tears prevent her from recognizing angels who are sitting where Jesus' body once lay.
When the angles ask Mary why she's crying, Mary mourns that "They have taken my Lord away, and I don't know where they have put him." Clearly she isn't even considering a miracle at this point. Mary just deduces that someone must have moved or stolen Jesus' body.
Then, when sobbing Mary turns around, another Person asks why she's crying and whom she's looking for. Tears still so cloud her vision that she can't even recognize the Person for whom she's really looking. So Mary guesses that she's talking to someone like the cemetery's gardener.
Obviously Mary's grief, pain and tears initially blind her to the reality of Jesus' resurrection. Her broken heart probably wouldn't even have heard an angelic choir from heaven announce Jesus' resurrection.
Jesus graciously notices Mary's grief. So instead of shouting a victory proclamation, he embraces her with a bit of love that she can absorb. Jesus speaks to Mary in a way she can hear, simply saying her name, "Mary."
This morning I would suggest that this is yet another example of God taking care to meet you and me right where we are. John Calvin recognized how God often accommodates himself to our weaknesses in this way. He said that "God lisps to us in the Bible."
So the risen Christ often enters our lives most mysteriously and quietly. Without fanfare, he speaks a word to us when a family member dies, when we're in a counselor's office or in a hospital bed. Christ often subtly enters our lives to strengthen you and me when we need him most. So he may enter them almost imperceptibly through a passage of Scripture or a prayer, through the hug of a friend or a meal from a neighbor.
We can be thankful today that Christ entered Mary's life on the first Easter in such a remarkably gracious way. For our faith community also teems with a variety of emotions that tug our thoughts and hearts in a number of directions today.
We rejoice with those expecting babies, but also ache with those who would like to have children, but can't. You and I celebrate relatively young marriages and anticipated weddings, but hurt for those whose relationships are under great strain. We celebrate signs of new life, but mourn with those who still mourn the deaths of people precious to them.Some of us sing these wonderful Easter hymns with joy this morning. Others, like Mary, however, find it hard to sing. Tears are clouding our eyes and clogging our ears. We may have a hard time even feeling the deep joy that Easter can bring.
Thankfully, this morning, we remember that Jesus still appears to us as he did to Mary on that first Easter. Not, according to Frederick Beuchner, "in a blaze of unearthly light, not in the midst of a sermon, not in the throes of some kind of religious daydream . . ."
This morning the risen Christ enters our lives, not in a bold stroke of lightning or a roll of booming thunder. No, he quietly appears among us in this homemade white bread, juice and wine. There's nothing particularly miraculous about this bread. Nor is there anything extraordinary about this juice or wine.
Yet we confess that the risen Christ slips in and stands by us in these ordinary-looking elements anyway. For our Lord's Supper is more than just a memorial service for Jesus Christ. We believe that, by God's Spirit, Jesus somehow stands among us in this bread and in this drink.
I have no power to transform this bread and drink into the body and blood of Jesus Christ. No, simply because he lives among us by his Word and Spirit, Jesus is here in a special way this morning. In this bread and in this drink.
Perhaps like weeping Mary, we don't recognize Jesus' presence among us this morning. After all, our hearts may be aching. Further, this is just another Easter worship service. Maybe this food and drink looks so common that we don't even recognize it for what it really is, Christ's presence among us this morning.
However, this Easter Lord's Supper is Christ's appearance to us. For Jesus, by his Spirit, makes himself known to us by, among other things, the breaking of this bread. He makes himself known to us to prepare us to be his resurrection witnesses tomorrow and every day. Known so that we may remember that Christ may enter our lives in any way on any day. For he is alive!
(Comments to Doug at sscrc@erols.com )
Silver Spring (MD) Christian Reformed Church