Rev. Debbie Cato
John 20:1-18
Fairfield Community Church
April 9 , 2023
Rabbouni,
Teacher, We have spent the past six weeks asking questions.
We have
turned over every rock. We have shined a light in every dusty corner. We have
opened the blinds. We have wrestled with truth. We have sought after you. So on
this Easter morning, bring wisdom to our seeking. Move through this room until
the walls echo with the sound of alleluias. Roll back the stones that might
prevent us from drawing closer to you. Calm our hearts. Say our names. Awaken
us to your presence in our midst. We are here. We are listening. We are seeking
after you. Alleluia. Amen.
Who Are You Looking For?
Our theme for Lent has been seeking – seeking answers to questions that we asked each week. Let’s recall all the questions that have guided us this Lenten season.
We asked” “Is this the fast that I choose?” and “Who will you listen to?” We wondered : “How do we begin again?” and “Will you give me a drink?” We probed the question: “Who sinned?” and “Can these bones live?” And last week we asked: “Where are you headed?”
Is this the fast I choose? Who will you listen to? How do we begin again? Will you give me a drink? Who sinned? Can these bones live? And where are you headed? These seven questions have guided us on our Lenten journey. This Easter morning, it is these questions that bring us to the culminating question: “Who are you looking for?” Who are you looking for? All this time, we have been seeking: seeking answers, seeking guidance, hopefully, seeking Jesus. But the responses we get depend very much on what—or who—we are looking for.[1] So today we ask, who are you looking for?
As Mary weeps at the empty tomb, the picture she has formed in her mind is one of tragedy. Jesus has died. Now the unthinkable has happened. Someone has gone so far as to steal his body. I imagine she thought enemies of Jesus did this, the same enemies who wanted to squelch his voice and end his movement. The same enemies that nailed him to the cross just three days prior.
As she weeps, she turns around. Mary sees a man standing there. She cannot see that it is Jesus. She assumes it is the gardener. Perhaps he knows where Jesus’ body is. She can see only through her grief and through the lens of tragedy.[2] Think of the trauma she had experienced watching her Lord being crucified? Think of the distress watching him being nailed to a cross. Think of the horror watching him hang and die on the cross in so much pain and agony. In the midst of the crisis, the horror of the events of that Friday, Mary could not remember what Jesus had said. The things Jesus had explained about his death. How could she? She was deep in grief and shock. Mary could not remember that Jesus said he would rise on the third day. She could not remember. All she could feel was grief and fear. And now, coming to the tomb to prepare his body for burial, it was gone. She was pushed beyond her limits. What else could she think? What other explanation could there be? Jesus’ body had been stolen.
And then Mary hears a voice. A familiar voice. In the Aramaic translation, Jesus says to her, “Why do you weep? And who do you want?” Who do you want? What an interesting question. Of all the versions of Jesus out there, which one do you believe? For which Jesus are you crying? Who do you want?[3] Who are you looking for?
“Why are you weeping?” In our Gospel story, both the angels and “the gardener” ask Mary why she's so desperately sad. This question honors sorrow as a legitimate and faithful pathway to revelation. Mary Magdalene sees Jesus because she stays put in the place where her pain is. She stays and weeps, giving the grief, the despair, her hopelessness, and agony of the circumstances the respect they deserve. Peter and the beloved disciple leave when they see the empty tomb, but Mary stays, bewildered and bereaved. She refuses to abandon what is real, even when what is real is unbearable.[4]
We would be hard-pressed to find a better question for the time and place we find ourselves in this Easter. Why are you weeping? Are you weeping for someone who has died too soon? Are you weeping for the many victims of gun violence? School shootings? Covid 19? Are you sad because you’ve lost your job? Are you in tears because the world has changed, and your place in it feels newly uncertain or shaky? Are you grieving because your faith isn’t sustaining you as much as you think it should? Are you sad because you miss the weekly comforts of church, communion, ritual, and community? Are you crying because you’re lonely? Are you weeping for your children or grandchildren, who must inherit a world so filled with pain?[5] Are you grieving because you want a closer relationship with God?
Why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?
To ask this question — and to answer it honestly — is part of having faith. It is truthful and it is loving, and it is a place to begin. It is a place to begin whenever we are struggling. Whenever we need a resurrection in our life.
When Mary finds the tomb empty, she stands weeping at the vacant grave. Jesus, mysteriously appearing as the gardener, asks her: “Why are you weeping? Who are you looking for?” On this Easter morning, who—or what—are you looking for? Why have you come to the tomb? What kind of Jesus are you looking for? Who do we see in the living Christ? What veils need to be lifted so we can recognize God’s resurrection in all the places it occurs? As we journey into Eastertide, will we continue to seek the miracle of God’s newness? In what ways will you continue to look for Jesus in the world?[6] In the everyday? In what ways will you look for Jesus in your life?
Mary found no death in the tomb. After she could see through her grief, she found life. "I have seen the Lord." The Easter story begins with tears and ends with proclamation. Having encountered Jesus, Mary runs to tell her friends the news. “I have seen the Lord!” She doesn’t hesitate to bear witness to what she has seen and heard — even though the context into which she brings her good news is rife with anxiety, exhaustion, trauma, and disbelief.[7]
We know from the other Gospel accounts that the disciples don’t believe Mary right away. But she knows what she has seen, and she doesn't allow other people’s doubt, cynicism, and incomprehension to blunt her proclamation. She insists on resurrection because resurrection is so good, it’s so essential, so lifesaving, so true. She knows that the world needs to hear it, so she says it boldly, bravely, joyfully. Without apology.[8] “I have seen the Lord!”
So. Who are you looking for? Where have you seen the Lord? What is your proclamation? Who will you tell? Christ the Lord is Risen! He is Risen Indeed! Amen.
[1]
Sanctified Art. Easter Sunday 2023. Commentary.
Rev. Danielle Shroyer.
[2]
Sanctified Art.
Easter Sunday 2023.
Commentary. Rev. Danielle Shroyer
[3]
Sanctified Art.
Easter Sunday 2023.
Commentary. Rev. Danielle Shroyer
[4] https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2595-risen. Debi
Thomas. Risen. April 20, 2023.
[5]
https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2595-risen. Debi
Thomas. Risen. April 20, 2023.
[6] Sanctified Art.
Easter Sunday 2023. Theme
Connection. Rev. Lisle Gwynn Garrity
[7]
https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2595-risen. Debi
Thomas. Risen. April 20, 2023.
[8]
https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2595-risen. Debi
Thomas. Risen. April 20, 2023.
[9]
https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/2595-risen. Debi
Thomas. Risen. April 20, 2023.
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