Seeing the Lord?
John 20:1-18 (Easter, April 8, 2012)
Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed alleluia. Amen.
But wait a minute – don't we think or even trust that seeing is believing? Isn't the entire scientific method, much of our postmodern reality built upon a very conflicting conviction to the resurrection – that we MUST SEE in order to believe. Or, as that famous Hollywood character Cuba Gooding Jr. said to tom Cruise in the movie Jerry McGuire– SHOW ME THE MONEY. It was his way of saying that if his agent could come up with a contract that was lucrative then he would "believe in him". We must be convinced. We must be shown proof. Only then will we believe! This sounds and just as importantly feels like it makes sense. Seeing is believing (i.e. "proof") appears to be the foundational myth (in the proper sense of that word) of many if not most in our western culture.
Yet, upon "seeing" things what do we make of them? Mary Magdalene sees the empty tomb and assumes that people have stolen Jesus' body. This wasn't an illogical deduction at all. Many people robbed graves in those days, so much so that there was an imperial edict against grave robbing. And come to think of it – generally, universally? when people die and their dead bodies are placed in a grave they do remain there. So, what else was Mary to think? Jesus' body was no longer in the grave. He most certainly had died. She had been there at his execution. What could have happened to his body? Yes, somebody must have stolen it.
Lest we think that Mary is flighty – ponder these realities. As a child when you first saw a falling "star" what did you make of it? You had most certainly seen something – but how did you understand, how did you interpret that?
Or, as a child when you first went to the supermarket or a bank and the automated teller machine, you saw things. You saw fruits and vegetables, meat and dairy products all displayed under bright lights, looking clean and yummy. Did you understand then where they came from – even though you saw them clearly with your eyes? I remember one of our young children overhearing a somewhat adult conversation between her parents. The conversation went like this "I don't think that we can afford brand new Christmas dresses for all our girls this year". There was then a silence between the adults, interrupted by a bright, seemingly helpful voice, "Mommy, Daddy, why don't you just go that machine at the bank and get some more money. They always have lots".
Now, we may dismiss all of this as simple childlike "misunderstanding". But who is to say that in whatever present "maturity" we are convinced that we have attained or reached, our sensory perception is a) still somewhat incomplete and or b) certainly open to misinterpretation.
Not that sensory perception isn't important. Sensory perception is an integral part of feeling, of expressing concern for others beyond ourselves. Mary Magdalene comes to Jesus tomb because she loves him and because she has seen him die. She comes to do all that she can – which at the time seems so little. Can we identify? Are there ever times when we come to others, to circumstances to situations and do whatever we can, but it still seems like so little, so insignificant?
Mary comes to the tomb. John tells us that it was "still dark" I bet it was. Literally and figuratively. She comes to that tomb and sees that the stone has been removed. Good news – the stone is gone. But more bad news – overwhelming bad news is what she sees or thinks she sees. Jesus' body is gone. And now she is more consumed with grief than ever. Not only has her Lord been violently killed. Not only have her hopes for him and others been shattered. But now, my God, even his body has been stolen.
Do you ever cry? I ask, because it's an important question. There was a time in my life for about 10 years when I just couldn't cry. It wasn't that I didn't feel pain. It wasn't that I hadn't suffered loss. I had! The loss was so great that my ability to cry was turned off. The pain went inward and was encapsulated inside my being, eating me up. But eventually, thank God – I began to heal and I was once again enabled to cry. I cry more than occasionally now.
How about you – do you cry when someone you love is hurting? Do you cry when a friend or a loved one dies – or a relationship that once meant so much to you or to someone else ends? If we feel, if we care about others, about the world, about the earth – then there must be times when we cry: when the tears cascade, when the throat swells up, when we just are there – and can't and maybe shouldn't move anywhere else for awhile. There may be other times when we cry for joy: when a baby is born, when a puppy jumps up and kisses your face or slides across the floor in that awkward puppy way – when a first word is spoken or we hear for the first time someone tells us they love us. We may cry for many reasons.
Now Mary is outside Jesus' empty tomb. She is crying –buckets. She knows at least some of the reasons she is crying. Her Lord has died. Already she has told Peter and the beloved disciple as well as 2 angels in white why she is crying, "They have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him." Now outside the tomb she turns around and sees what her eyes tell her is a gardener. Again, this is a logical deduction. In John's Gospel, Jesus has been buried in a garden tomb. This "gardener" asks her the recurring, important question. "Why are you crying?" But then he adds a second part to that question – an important part of the question for each of us: "WHOM ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?"
Sometimes when we are crying, outwardly, inwardly, as the result of pain, loss, despair, exhaustion, we may have given up looking for anyone. We may simply be trying to avoid the pain, to mask it, to escape it. Pain, loss, death can be so overwhelming. But the question addressed to Mary also stands for us – whom are we looking for? Dare we look for anyone?
Did you notice what happens next in John's Gospel? Mary responds to this seeming "gardener" with her understanding of her visual perception of that oh, SO EMPTY TOMB. "Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." But now Mary's gardener speaks to her by name and with an inflection that could only come from one unique person who has ever lived. "MARY" he says. In that spoken word, her name being uttered she realizes not only that the tomb is empty but that her Lord, IS ALIVE. Oh, to be sure he was dead, he most certainly had been killed. She had witnessed that. But now in calling her name, beyond all that she could see and attempt to understand, she knows he is alive. It is then that she goes and announces to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord".
I cannot know what moves you to tears these days. We are all unique. We do hide a lot from each other – even from the people we love. But I do believe – ah, there is that word that exceeds simply seeing or any kind of verifiable "proof" that this risen Jesus calls our names – in many different ways, in many different places – to be and do certain things. He calls because He loves us and the world. He calls because he alone, can transform death and all of its powers through death into new life. He calls because as important as tears are – they are not meant to be our permanent state. Are we listening. Are we looking? Why are we crying Oh, people? And whom are we looking for?
I challenge you in all the experiences of your life to listen. Hear this risen One call YOUR NAME.
For, then just as miraculously as Mary does, we too see the Lord.
Christ the Lord is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia! Amen.