An Empty Tomb

Debbie Cato
John 20:1-18
An Empty Tomb
Fairfield Community Church
April 17, 2022 Easter Sunday 

Holy God, we so often long for more. We want more than the hamster wheel life of to-do lists and errands, meal prep and alarm clocks. We want more than comparison and competition. We want more than certainty that drowns out curiosity. We want more than fear that leads to violence. We want a life that is teeming with alleluias. We want a life overcrowded with hope. We want a life congested with good news. We want a life jam-packed with forgiveness. We want a life bursting with laughter. We want a life so full that the stone just has to be rolled away. So today we pray— break the dam. Dust the cobwebs from our ears. Clear space in our minds to hear you clearly. Speak to us as only you can. It’s what we long for. We long for you. Gratefully we pray, amen.

An Empty Tomb[1]

 

 

“They have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him.”

 

Why does Mary say this, especially on Easter morning?  Isn’t she supposed to be full of hope?  She notices that the stone has been rolled away from the tomb, and yet she weeps?  Mary Magdalene was expecting Jesus’ body to be in that tomb.  “They have taken away my Lord and I do not know where they have laid him,”  she weeps.

 

We have spent seven weeks; 40 days, walking to the cross with Jesus.  We have focused on things like temptation, lamenting, worthiness, and brazen faith.  For seven weeks we have walked to the cross with Jesus.  For seven weeks we have anticipated the “Hallelujah!” of Easter morning.  We have felt the momentum build for this day, knowing that today we can say with confidence and joy, “Christ the Lord has risen today!  Christ the Lord has risen indeed!”  And yet, Mary weeps.

 

When we read this account of the women finding the tomb empty, we are filled with the joy of Easter morning.  This is the ending we’ve been waiting for!  We praise God that the tomb is empty!  This is the ending that saves the world!  Certainly, the men and women who knew and loved and followed and learned from Jesus would be filled with joy.  After all, Jesus himself told them at least three times that he would be killed by the religious and secular leaders in Jerusalem.  He told them three times that he would die.  He told them three times that after three days he would rise again.  Why don’t his followers get this?

 

Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early that Sunday morning and did not find what she expected.  Yet, she witnessed His crucifixion.  She watched him die.   Mary expects to find the Lord’s dead body in the tomb.  But instead, she is devastated to find the tomb empty.  She is filled with horror, loss, and confusion.  Mary bottoms out with sorrow when she finds the tomb empty. 

 

They must have taken him away.  Maybe he was never really there.  Maybe he was only a rabbi.  Only a teacher.  Maybe he wasn’t the Messiah after all.  Fill in the blank.  Any explanation except the one that Jesus gave:  “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus said.

 

May Magdalene is grief stricken.  “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him,” she cries.  When she first met Jesus, she was possessed by seven demons - seven.  Jesus healed her and gave her a new life.  She literally owed Jesus her life.  Mary became a devoted follower, entering into the close circle of those taught by Jesus during his Galilean ministry.  She became prominent during the last days, accompanying Jesus during his travels and following him to the end; all the way to the cross. She was the leader of a group of women disciples who were present at the cross, when all the male disciples, except John the Beloved, fled out of fear for their own lives. She witnessed Christ’s Crucifixion and burial.  And now, according to all four

 

Gospels, she is the first person to see the resurrected Christ. In the midst of her despair, in the midst of her grief, she hears the voice of her Lord.   “Mary!” he says.  “Mary.”   In the sound of her name, she recognizes her Lord’s voice. 

 

“I have seen the risen Lord!” she announces to the disciples.  Mary, this woman once possessed by demons, this faithful follower of Christ, brings the good news to the other disciples.  “I have seen the risen Lord!”   It is with this astonishing news, first announced by Mary to the other disciples where all Christian teaching begins.  This news is revolutionary!  “Christ has risen!  The Lord has risen indeed!”

 

Honestly, I'm not sure I really get it.  What about you?  How could Jesus, who after being beaten and mocked and crucified; how could Jesus, after dying on that cross and buried in a stone tomb, live?  The resurrection defies logic.  It's hard to explain.  It's hard to understand.  I cannot fully grasp what happened in that tomb.  No one actually saw it.  It was entirely between Jesus and God. 

 

I have to admit – I probably would have reacted as Mary did.  Devastated by the empty tomb.  And yet, just as He promised, Jesus defeated death.  He rose from the grave.  He spoke Mary's name and hearing  his voice, she knew it was Him.  And after that, the Risen One had people to see and things to do.  In the days ahead, Jesus talked with his followers; He ate with them; they touched Him.  For forty days, Jesus walked and talked among his followers after his resurrection.  Every time Jesus came to his friends they became stronger and wiser; kinder, and more daring.  Every time Jesus came to them, they became more like him.

 

In the end, that is the only evidence we have to offer those who ask us how we can possibly believe.  Because we are forgiven. Because we live, that is why.  Because we have found, to our surprise, that we are not alone.  Because we never know where He will turn up next.    We never know when He will call our name. It’s these appearances that cinch the resurrection for me, not what happened in the tomb.  For the rest of us, Easter began the moment Jesus said, “Mary!” and she recognizes his voice.  That is where the miracle happens, and it is where it continues to happen.  Not in the tomb, but in our encounter with the living Lord.

 

For Mary, for Peter and John, for Thomas and for the rest of the disciples, and for people like me and you, the empty tomb is indeed the cause for great rejoicing.  Christ defeated death and rose from the grave.  He is present with us, Emmanuel – God with us. He is present with us in all places and all times. 

 

I'm thankful that human interpretation (or misunderstanding) of the empty tomb does not determine its significance. The empty tomb proves God's power over death.  The empty tomb is the concrete reality of the presence of the risen Lord.  The empty tomb means that the risen Lord stands before us; when we are fearful and troubled and scared, God is with us.  He calls our name.  When we are filled with joy and excitement – the risen Lord is with us.  Christ walks among us just as He did with the disciples.  He is with us when we feed the hungry; when we help the oppressed, when we love one another.  The empty tomb means that for us, death is not the end.  The empty tomb promises resurrection for those who believe.  The empty tomb means that the worst thing, is not the last thing.

 

The apostle Paul tells us that “Jesus destroyed our last enemy;[2] Jesus destroyed death.”[3]  The resurrected Jesus responds to our doubts about his presence among us every day of our lives with this question:  “Why do you seek the living among the dead?  He is not here, but He has risen!”   He has risen indeed! Amen.

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[1] Resources used in addition to commentaries include: Journey with Jesus, by Dan Clendenin @ www.journeywithjesus.net/Essays/20100329JJ
Escape from the Tomb, Barbara Brown Taylor @ www.christiancentury.org
Empty Tomb, Empty Talk, Thomas G. Long @ www.christiancentury.org
Completing the circle:  The Resurrection according to John, Derek Tidball.
[2]              1 Corinthians 15:26
[3]              2 Timothy 1:10

Hosanna!

Rev. Debbie Cato
Luke 19:28-40
Fairfield Community Church
April 15, 2022 Good Friday Reflection 

Let us Pray:  Holy God, sometimes life feels like a parade rushing by us as we stand on the sidelines and try not to miss it! There are hundreds of things that catch our eye, but the thing we fear missing the most is you. So slow down the speed on this parade. Paint the colors of this world a little brighter. And dance through the words in our scripture passage until it is almost impossible for us to miss you there. God we are here. We are trying to pay attention. Gratefully we pray, amen.   ( Rev. Sara Speed santifiedart.org)

Hosanna!

 

Thank you for obliging me and getting out of the pews and marching around the church with your palm branches while we sang  “Hosanna, Loud Hosanna” as we started our worship this morning!  Today, we dared to allow our faith to be a bit brazen; a bit extravagant as we moved, and sang, and waved our palm branches!  A fitting start for Palm Sunday and our entry into Holy Week. 

Today, we begin a journey that holds the fullness of our human story.  Holy week includes the highs and lows, the hopes and fears of what it means to be human.  In the span of just seven days, we do it all.  We feel it all. We praise, we process, we break bread and we wash feet. We make promises and we break promises.  We deny, betray, condemn, abandon, grieve, despair, disbelieve, and celebrate.  

This week, we see the light at the end of the tunnel, we lose our vision of it entirely in the grimness of death, and then we find it again, drenched in glory.[1]  Wow!  That’s a lot.  Holy Week is an emotional week.  But we must be willing to walk the distance with Jesus riding on a colt to Jerusalem today, all the way to dying on a cross on Good Friday.  We must be willing to walk the distance if we want to fully appreciate the joy, the wonder, the sheer glory of Easter morning.  It’s worth it.  Easter morning means so much more if we have gone the distance.

 As Jesus rides into town on a colt, the crowd is shouting, “Hosanna! Hosanna!”   It sounds so happy! I felt happy marching around the sanctuary.  Did you?  Hosanna! Hosanna sounds happy, but it isn’t.  Hosanna doesn’t mean “hooray” or “we love you” or even “It’s Jesus, It’s Jesus!”  or anything else exciting and wonderful.  In both Hebrew and Greek, Hosanna means “help us,” “save us.” Tthe people are shouting “Save us now!” as they wave the branches to get Jesus’ attention.   It’s like saying, “Lord, we’re desperate.  We’re frantic.  We’re in trouble.”   Perhaps you know what that’s like.

Perhaps you resonate with this plea as we come to the end of Lent.  It’s okay.  All of this -- all of this hope wrapped in all this fear – it’s okay.  It’s what Holy Week is about.  If the Palm Sunday story is about anything, it is about astounding hopes and disillusioned expectations.  It’s a story about what happens when the God we want and think we know doesn’t show up, and another God — a less aggressive God — shows up instead, and saves us in ways we didn’t think we wanted or needed.

The people welcoming Jesus into Jerusalem and waving leafy branches are calling for Jesus to deliver them.  They want to be saved from their Roman oppressors, from physical ailments, from the unjust legal system. 

Yet, Jesus is a different kind of King.  Jesus rides on a colt that has never had a rider.  By riding a colt with no previous rider, Jesus is revealing – perhaps too subtly – that what he brings is very different from what previous rulers have offered.  The crowds miss it.  Most of his disciples do not understand it.  The people are too busy calling for salvation, and they know exactly what they want that to look like.  I think we miss it too.

This is one of the greatest challenges of Holy Week:  letting go of what we want salvation to be and allowing ourselves to be open to what it is.  Julia Seymour wrote an article in Gather, a ministry magazine.  She wrote that a person shared with her the thought that Easter is supposed to help us not be afraid of death.  Someone responded that “I’m not afraid of death.  It’s the dying part that I don’t like.”[2]

 Julia goes on to say, “Holy Week has a lot of dying.  Remembering the betrayal, the false accusations and the crucifixion causes us to tremble.  But the dying actually begins, as we enter the week with shouts of Hosanna and palm branches in our hands.”[3]

Dying well takes total honesty.  How honest are we prepared to be?  Are we prepared to be honest with the emotions we feel this week?  The discomfort and uncertainty we feel with the story of the crucifixion?  The fact that Jesus is not the king we are expecting?

This year during Holy Week, are we ready to let die any notion that our goodness, our right behavior, can save us or make us right with God? Are we prepared to honestly admit that we don’t always look for Jesus in other people, and we don’t always let people see Jesus in us?  Are we ready to die within ourselves and our actions, die to our prejudices, blind spots, fears and insecurities?  Are we prepared to crucify injustice, anger, judgment, and mistrust?  Will we cry out, “Hosanna! and mean “Save us from ourselves, our possessions, and our efforts to control?”[4]

If we want rebirth, something must die.  And the dying is scary.  But Holy Week really is all about dying …. in particular, dying so that we might live.  And who can help us with that?  Whom can we cry, “Hosanna!  Save us!”?

Well, to Jesus of course.  Jesus, who comes to us at the table.  Jesus, whose death brings the possibility of resurrection.  Jesus, whose resurrection brings the promise of new life.

Welcome to Holy Week.  Here we are, and here is our God.  Riding a young colt. Here are our hosannas, broken and earnest, hopeful and hungry.  Here is all that is unbearable, and all that promises to end in light brighter than we can imagine.  Blessed is the One who comes to die so that we will live.[5]  

 I want to end with a poem that was written by Rev. Sarah Speed for Sanctified Art.  During Lent I’ve been using the liturgy and art work written and developed by Sanctified Art and various clergy associated with them.  I hope it has enriched your worship experience.  This is a poem written for Palm Sunday called Even the Stones Will Cry Out, by Rev. Sarah Speed.

Even the Stones Will Cry Out

 

The Pharisees found Jesus;

 they said, “Order your disciples to stop.”

 

It’s not the first time

 justice was almost silenced.

People stood on the sidelines shouting hosanna

which means, “Save us,” “Save me.”

It’s not the first time we’ve heard that cry from the street.

The Pharisees said stop. They wanted the people quiet,

but some things can’t be silenced.

 

Justice will bubble up,

hope will raise its head,

love will rise to the surface.

Hate and fear will try to drown them out,

but you cannot silence what was here first,

which was love, and it was good. It was so good.

So even the stones will cry out.

 

Remember that at your parade. Justice will bubble up,

hope will raise its head, love will rise to the surface.

Amen.                          

 Written by: rev. sarah speed | sanctifiedart.org

 Let us pray:  Loving God,  This is no ordinary week ahead of us.  Help us to walk the journey we are called to walk this week.  Give us the courage to feel all the feelings we need to feel and process all the thoughts we need to process. Help us to somehow begin to understand all that this week means, all that Jesus truly did for us, and help it to change us and grow us so that on Easter morning our faith will be brighter and greater than ever before.  In your Son’s precious name.  Amen.

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[1] https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2958-save-us-we-pray.  Debi Thomas.  March 21, 2021.  Save Us, We Pray.
[2] Gather Magazine.  March/April 2022.  “The Meaning of Hosanna”  By Julia Seymour.
[3] Ibid.
[4] Gather Magazine.  March/April 2022.  “The Meaning of Hosanna”  By Julia Seymour.
[5] https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2958-save-us-we-pray.  Debi Thomas.  March 21, 2021.  Save Us, We Pray.

Brazen Faith

Rev. Debbie Cato
Isaiah 43:16-21and John 12:1-8
Fairfield Community Church
April 3, 2022

Let us Pray:  Holy God, sometimes our waking is a prayer. Sometimes the song we have stuck in our head, rumbling around on repeat, is a prayer. Sometimes the way we talk to our children and the way we hug the dog is a prayer. Sometimes the way we take our phone out to get a picture of the sunset or the people we love—that is a prayer. Other times, prayer is moments like this— heads bowed, eyes closed, hearts quiet for just a moment. And in all of it, we trust you to hear us. Help us to hear you in return. Gratefully we pray, Amen.   ( Rev. Sara Speed santifiedart.org)

Brazen Faith

 

Jesus was friends with Mary, Martha, and Lazarus and it hasn’t been that long since Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead. He is back at their house for dinner – Luke tells us it is 6 days before Passover so it is about a week before the beginning of what I will call, “Jesus’ walk to the cross.”  A week before his last Passover with his disciples and before his arrest, condemnation, torture, and crucifixion.  A week before all this is to happen, Jesus is hanging out with friends for dinner.  What an ordinary thing to do. 

And yet it’s not.  Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead!  Mary, Martha, and Lazarus know who he is.  They believe. Jesus is no ordinary friend.  He is the Messiah!  So of course, Mary and Martha joyfully welcome Jesus into their home and they give a dinner for him. Martha served and Luke tells us that Lazarus was one of them at the table with Jesus.  We also learn that Judas Iscariot, the disciple that will later betray Jesus, was also there. 

While they are lounging at the table, Mary takes a pound of costly perfume made of pure nard and anoints Jesus’ feet, and then wipes his feet with her hair. 

Now, we learned something during our Wednesday night Soup & Study that I think is important to share here.  In Jesus’ time, people did not sit around the table in chairs like we do, which I imagine we are all picturing in our minds.  First, they always took their sandals off at the door because their sandals were filthy from walking on dusty roads.  So, they ate barefoot.  Then, they sat around the table on the floor in a reclined position, resting on an arm with their feet tucked behind them. I would demonstrate but I would never get up off the floor again!

The reason this is important is because Mary had easy access to Jesus’ feet, but not easy access to his head.  So rather than anoint his head with the  perfume, she anoints his feet. 

Now this perfume was incredibly expense.  Judas Iscariot points out that it cost three hundred denarii.  Three hundred denarii would be nearly a year’s wages for a laborer. Just think – a years wages.  It’s possible this perfume was originally intended to anoint her brother’s body when he died but it was not needed.  Jesus raised Lazurus from the dead. 

It was an extravagant act.  Mary’s anointing of Jesus’ feet is an extravagant act of public worship. Her faith does not hide. It is embodied, broken open, and poured out. This isn’t a frugal faith—it is an abundant, extravagant faith. Mary’s act is also risky—she puts her full body into it, sort of like a protest. It’s intimate.  She exhibits a shameless and brazen faith.

Mary doesn’t need to use words; her yearning, her worship, her gratitude, and her love are enacted wholly through her body.  Just as Jesus later breaks bread with his disciples, Mary breaks open the jar in her hands, allowing its contents to pour freely over Jesus’s feet.  Just as Jesus later washes his disciples’ feet to demonstrate what radical love looks like, Mary expresses her love with her hands and her hair.  Just as Jesus later offers up his broken body for the healing of all, Mary offers up a costly breaking in order to demonstrate her love for her Lord.[1]

Jesus welcomes and celebrates the extravagance of Mary’s gift.  It comes from her heart, and he knows it.  He knows it comes from her love and devotion and he receives it as it is given.  He shuns Judas’s criticism.  “Leave her alone,” Jesus says.  He  knows he will return to Judea and the religious and political leaders who will conspire against him. Yet here is this faithful family, welcoming and celebrating him as the Christ while at the same time, the outside world is writing a different story.[2]

In her blog, Debi Thomas writes, “Mary recognizes the importance of meeting the world’s brokenness, cynicism, and pain with priceless, generous beauty.  Even as death looms, she chooses to share what is heartbreakingly fragile and fleeting: a fragrance.  A sensory gift.  An experience of beauty.”[3]

As people of faith, we are called to crack ourselves open, pouring out the richness of what is within us to more fully worship God. We cannot hide pieces of ourselves or grasp onto expectations that distract from what God created and creates within us. We are free to bring our whole selves as a living testimony to who God has made and makes us to be, both what we label as good and that which we hide from the world.[4]

 Christ’s love for us is so extravagant; so brazen; that in six days, he will enter Jerusalem and begin his journey to his crucifixion – his final act of unabashed love for each of us.  Love that leads him to sacrifice his life so our sins are  forgiven and we can have eternal life.  A love that leads him to sacrifice his life so each of us can live.

 We must ask ourselves what kind of worship do we offer him in return?  Yes, we show up on Sunday. Yes, we stand when we are supposed to.  Yes, we speak when it’s our turn.  Yes, some of us sing but some of us don’t because “our voices are not good.”  How much do we hold back?  What would it look like to have brazen faith?  To not hold back?  To have extravagant faith?  To believe that our worship is for God and not for us or the people sitting next to us. Is this enough?  Or should there be more?

What if our faith were so brazen that being in church to worship God was a priority over other things?  What if it was so important that we invited others to join us?  What if we were so excited to be together and hear God’s word that we wanted our friends and family to hear too?  What if we took those kinds of risks for the sake of our faith?

Lutheran minister Reagan Humber puts it this way: “What won’t always be with us is the opportunity to see God in whatever and whomever stands in front of us right now.  The kingdom of God is here.  Right now is the moment  when God can break our hearts.  The love of God is the grace of now.”[5]

What would our church be like if we were known as a church with outrageous faith?  If we showed that faith in extravagant ways in the community?  Not preaching and being self-righteous but loving our neighbors and meeting their needs the way Jesus did.  What would that look like?  What would it mean to our community if people saw ordinary people like you and me being extravagant in our faith?  What would it mean to our church?

Mary’s love for Jesus; her belief that he was the Christ filled her with so much joy, that she was brazen enough to break an alabaster jar of expensive perfume over his dirty feet and wipe it with her hair in front of other dinner guests.  What are you willing to do for your faith?  Amen.

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[1] https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=3357.  Debi Thomas.  Posted 3.27.2022.  Beauty and Breaking. 
[2] Biblical commentary by Rev. Ashley DeTar Birt & Rev. Larissa Kwong Abazia.  Santifiedart.com   Full to the Brim. 
[3] Journey with Jesus. Debi Thomas.  Posted 3.27.2022.  Beauty and Breaking 
[4] Biblical commentary by Rev. Ashley DeTar Birt & Rev. Larissa Kwong Abazia.  Santifiedart.com   Full to the Brim.
[5] https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=3357.  Debi Thomas.  Posted 3.27.2022.  Beauty and Breaking.