Resurrection Story According to John

Donna G. Joy

Each of us knows what it is to experience loss: the death of a loved one; the ending of a relationship; the loss of a job. I suspect that each of us knows what it is to feel lost, wounded, scarred. And, I suspect each of us knows what it is to sin: to make other people and things a priority over and above God. Well . . . Today we celebrate a God who appears to us in the midst of those dark and troubling times.

Throughout the season of Lent a group of people from St. Peter’s has been engaged in a Study Series ‘Making Sense of the Christian Faith’, during which we have recognized the weakness and – yes – the sinfulness that is part of the human condition and God’s promise to always be with us offering strength, comfort and hope. During this time we have been reminded that part of God’s great plan in the creation stories is for us, humanity, to live in relationship with God so that all we are and all we do is inspired by God’s infinite love; so that all we are and all we do is a reflection of God’s infinite love. But beginning with Adam and Eve we keep falling short of that plan. We think (as did they) that we can live and thrive independent of God, which, in fact, lies at the centre of all sinful behaviour. We search for fulfillment in seeking personal gain, personal wealth, personal profile and importance, which is an outward manifestation of that condition known as sin. And throughout Hebrew Scripture God keeps offering the Israelite people what they need to re-establish their focus on God. He established a Covenant with Abraham so that all future generations may be blessed. He gives the law to Moses so that the people will know how to live in relationship with God and each other. He sends the prophets to challenge them when they’re missing the mark, to comfort them when they’re in pain and when they have lost all hope to remind them of God’s promise to be faithful.

Clearly, this God of life and love and creation has always, is always, and will always come to us, particularly in the midst of the darkness of our lives. And all this finds its fulfillment in Jesus, whose cross and resurrection tell us two important truths: (1) we are sinful and confused and broken and hurting . . . and we cannot save ourselves; and (2) God loves us, warts and all, and will keep coming to us in mercy, forgiveness and love. The first truth puts to rest (death) all our desires to make it on our own, and the second raises us to new life by promising that God will always be with us and for us … no matter what. These two truths are expressed in this morning’s Gospel.

This morning’s gospel takes us into the tomb where Jesus’ broken, battered, bloodied, bruised, dead body had been placed. John tells us that on the first day of the week Mary Magdalene goes to the tomb while it is still dark. This detail, ‘while it is still dark’ is important. The state of Mary’s heart and soul is resting in a very dark place as she approaches that tomb. Within three short days she and the others have seen their beloved Jesus arrested, tried, found guilty, humiliated, tortured and, finally, crucified in a most horrific way. She is grieving and sad and disappointed, and at the same time, terrified. If this could happen to Jesus, then this could also happen to her and anyone associated with him.

So, even going to the tomb indicates tremendous courage. As Mary approaches the tomb she sees that the stone has been rolled away. She runs to Peter and the disciple Jesus loved and tells them… “They’ve taken the Master out of the tomb.” And, “We don’t know where they’ve put him.”

So it seems then, that the three run back to the tomb, and sure enough, it is open and empty. Peter arrives just after the other disciple and yet seems to have entered into the tomb first. (Kind of a Peter thing . . . not one to hold back . . .) Inside he finds the cloths in which Jesus’ body was wrapped lying on the ground. N.T. Wright indicates that the placement of the cloths suggest that the body had simply disappeared, leaving the cloths behind like a balloon when the air inside of it has disappeared.

Then the other disciple joins Peter in the tomb. He saw and he believed. Then the disciples returned to their homes. So, in this telling of the resurrection event – Peter’s and the other disciple’s response seem quite simple and straight forward: They saw. They believed. They went home. This piece of John’s telling of the story has always struck me as anticlimactic. As we were reminded throughout our Lenten study, after generations of salvation history culminating in this first Easter morning: Peter and the other disciple see, believe, and go home. But the Good News is that this is not where the story ends . . .

The story continues with Mary, who stands outside the tomb weeping. Through her tears she stoops down to look into the tomb. And she sees something that the other two have either missed, or perhaps wasn’t there until after they left. Mary sees two angels, clothed in white, one at the head and one at the feet of where Jesus’ dead and lifeless body had been. They ask her why she is crying and she tells them that they have taken away her master and she doesn’t know where they put him. And then, Mary turns around and sees Jesus standing there, but she doesn’t at that point recognize him as Jesus. Jesus asks her why she is crying and for whom she is looking.

Mary’s intuitive guess that he must be the gardener is wrong at one level, but deeply/profoundly right at another. In ‘Surprised by Hope’ N.T. Wright makes the point that this First Easter Morning functions as the beginning of a new creation, where the long awaited intimacy with God is brought to life in a brand new way. So, Jesus serves both as the garden and the one who tills it.

Then after Mary asks him if he has done something with the body, Jesus speaks her name in a way that prompts her to recognize who he is. (We might assume he identified her as Merriam: likely the Aramaic name by which she was accustomed to him using when addressing her, which is why she responds in Aramaic, identifying him as ‘Rabbouni.’) Then Jesus speaks the words that bring to fulfillment the promises God has made to hold us close. Ironically, he tells Mary not to cling to him, but this is to make the point that this appearance is not one that is exclusively for Mary. Soon he will be moving on so that the gift – the presence – of the Risen Christ will be available to everyone. Soon all humanity will be embraced by him and held close.

But then comes the real clincher, as Jesus says, “Go now to my brothers and give them this message: Now I begin my journey, up to Father – my Father as much as your Father, yes, to God – my God as much as your God. Mary Magdalene then went and told the disciples, “I’ve seen the master!” and related to them all that He had shared with her. As we have been reminded throughout our Lenten study, throughout the whole unfolding of salvation history, God has promised to be intimate with us, to hold us close. Up until this moment Jesus has spoken of God as ‘The Father’ or ‘The Father who sent me’ or ‘My Father’. He has referred to his followers as ‘disciple’ or ‘student’ or ‘friend’, but now all that has changed. Take a minute and allow these words to penetrate, “Go now to my brothers and give them this message: Now I begin my journey, up to Father – my Father as much as your Father, yes, to God – my God as much as your God.

Something really significant has shifted here. A new relationship has sprung to life. The disciples are welcomed into a new world: a world where they can know God and live in relationship with God the way Jesus knew God, where they/we take on the new and intimate role of Jesus’ brothers and sisters. Israel had struggled with this relationship for generation after generation, and now, in this moment, that relationship is healed and restored.

So, lost, wounded, scarred; full of sadness, grief, disappointment, terror and despair, Mary approaches the tomb and discovers that the pain of that day and the days leading up to it has been overcome. She discovers that the Risen Jesus is there to be with her in that deep dark place; and even though her pain, and fear and grief still persists, all this is transformed into hope and even a glimmer of joy. The God we worship has come to endure and overcome our suffering and the suffering of this world. This first Easter morning opens our eyes and hearts to see that any suffering we see and experience is fleeting and leads to a brand of newness that is more glorious than anything we could ever imagine.

On this Easter morning, some 2,000 years later, I invite you to walk with Mary; to approach the tomb. Carry with you any pain, sadness, disappointment, fear, grief that currently feels like a heavy weight. Think of someone you know who is currently suffering, take them with you. Hold them in your heart and mind as you stand outside the tomb. And when the angel asks why you are crying, tell him/her, “They’ve taken away my wife/husband/friend; my house/my loved one/health/youth. Then turn around and see the one who stands with you, calling you by name.

And now, in the words of Malcolm Guite . . .

He blesses every love that weeps and grieves

And now he blesses hers who stood and wept

And would not be consoled, or leave her love’s

Last touching place, but watched as low light crept

Up from the east. A sound behind her stirs

A scatter of bright birdsong through the air.

She turns, but cannot focus through her tears,

Or recognize the Gardener standing there.

She hardly hears his gentle question, ‘Why,

Why are you weeping?’, or sees the play of light

That brightens as she chokes out her reply,

‘They took my love away, my day is night.’

And then she hears her name, she hears Love say

The Word that turns her night, and ours, to Day.