Easter 2023

By the Rev. Dr. Molly Scherm

​Alleluia! Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia! After a week in which we have told and remembered stories from Jesus’ last week in Jerusalem, today we finally come to the most important story in all of Christian memory. ​

The Christian scriptures actually give us four different stories of what happened on the third day. The resurrection story told in John’s gospel, which we’ve heard this morning, is perhaps the most interesting of the Easter stories in the four canonical gospels, full of curious and thought-provoking details. John’s story of the third day begins in the dark, with Mary coming to the tomb. John doesn’t tell us how Mary knew where the tomb was, though Luke reports that the women disciples had followed Joseph when he laid Jesus’ body to rest, nor does John tell us what Mary’s purpose was, though the other gospels indicate that she came with spices to anoint the body. It's worth taking a moment to imagine what Mary’s state of mind must have been, whatever her reason for coming to Jesus’ tomb. To do so, perhaps we should each remember, for a moment, about how we felt after some of the worst weeks of our lives. The joy of Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, days before, must surely have been shadowed, for his close friends, by some of his gloomy predictions and parables, and by his repeated assertions that he was going to die. Mary and the others witnessed the hostility of the religious leaders, who held significant power in the Jerusalem community. What must the last supper have been like for them, hearing hid declaration that “this is my body, given for you”, and “this is my blood”? I assume that Mary was there. And then it unfolded as Jesus had said it would. He was arrested, tried, sentenced (with the apparent support of the very crowds who had welcomed him to the city), and executed in the brutal manner favored by the imperial power of the time. And Mary had stood by, watching. Imagine the depth of her despair, not to say her grief at the loss of one who was clearly beloved to her. Imagine, then, too, Mary’s dismay when she observed the stone moved from the mouth of the tomb, and the enclosure empty. Loss on top of loss. Startled, probably frightened, John tells us that Mary RAN to tell Simon Peter and John. Unlike the gospel accounts in which the rest of the disciples don’t believe the women’s initial report of the empty tomb, here Peter and John respond quickly to Mary’s witness, and they hurry with her back to the tomb. After looking into the tomb to verify Mary’s story, John tells us, simply, that the disciples returned to their home. He doesn’t tell us what they made of what they had seen or what they intended to do with it. I suspect that they needed to talk with one another and probably with the others, to puzzle over the mystery of the empty tomb. Mary was not ready to leave, however, and we don’t know whether the other disciples even suggested that she do so. She stood by, weeping, undoubtedly struggling. This week Heather had I had the privilege of hearing our colleague, Anna Woofenden of St. John’s, Northampton, preach a wonderful sermon on this passage. I want to share with you the way Anna describes the moment: “[Mary] weeps in grief, and if I venture a guess, she weeps because it’s just not how she thought it all should, or could, go….Worn out and exhausted, yet still getting up and showing up first thing in the morning at the tomb. She’s doing the next, right, faithful thing, even though the next right faithful thing was anointing the dead body of her messiah and friend. But then the body, the corpse, isn't even there to care for. The tomb is empty, the next faithful thing is not clear. She questions and weeps. But she’s still there.” (1) And then finally, the most surprising claim of all. Mary turns and sees a figure that she takes to be a gardener, though John tells us that it is, in fact, Jesus, himself. He speaks, asking who she is looking for, but she does not recognize his voice any more than she has known him by sight. This risen Christ is not quite the one she has known as Jesus of Nazareth, and besides, she saw Jesus die. Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away. When Jesus speaks once more and calls her by name, Mary knows. She finally understands. She believes. Just as it did when Jesus was crucified three days before, Mary’s world changes. John tells us that when she returned to the disciples, she told them: I have seen the Lord. Mary experienced the risen Christ because she showed up. Not knowing, not understanding, weighed down by grief and despair, uncertain as to what to do, she did, as Anna suggests, “the next faithful thing”. When what she was looking for wasn’t there, she stuck around. She looked, she noticed, she asked, and Christ called her name. At our Diocesan Convention last Fall, Bishop Fisher talked about Mary Magdalene in this very story, observing that maybe Mary is the saint we need right now. He said, in his address at Convention, that “She asked the gardener where he was because she just wanted the old body back, and the gardener turned out to be the Risen Jesus. She embraces him but the Risen Jesus tells her he needs to keep on moving. But tell the disciples he is Risen. And she becomes the apostle to the apostles.” The Bishop went on to suggest that “We, too, want the old body back. 2019. Or 1955. But, the old body is gone and Resurrection to something unknown and a little scary is here. And Mary Magdalene goes with this new reality and gives a message to the apostles that changes the world.”(2) There it is. The gospel story, as ever, is our story. Even as we sit here, proclaiming our “alleluias”, hearing beloved words and singing glorious hymns, I suspect that all of us carry in our hearts our own despairs, our own griefs, our own fears. We live in a world broken by war and violence, by division and distrust. We watch and fear for the destruction of the planet and know that entrenched hatreds continue to fuel oppression. And some of that is in us, much as we hate to face it. And so often, our impulse is to run home to avoid the scary thing we don’t understand. We long to have the old body back, to keep on with what feels familiar and comforting, even as we know that it no longer serves the needs of today. But the gospel story, beginning with the Mary at the tomb on Easter morning, is that the Love of God is stronger than any of the powers of death. The good news is that even the unexpected and unfamiliar and scary can be the first hints of new life breaking forth. We just need to do the next faithful thing, and we need to do it together. If we can stick around, and look, and ask, we will see that we are surrounded by life after death. By the drive of all beings toward wholeness, toward healing. By life renewing itself, through the power of God, the presence of the risen Christ. Our story of new life appearing around us is part of the larger story of new life discovered by Mary, John, Peter, and the other disciples. Just as something in them enabled them to meet the resurrected Christ in a gardener, and in the upper room, on the road to Emmaus and on the lakeshore, we meet the resurrected Christ in the Word and sacraments, in community, in one another, and in service to God’s world and God’s children. Trust in the God of whom Jesus spoke and who Jesus trusted compelled the disciples to continue Jesus’ ministries and to preach the Gospel to all lands. Trust in the God we know in Jesus Christ is our calling, as well. Our opportunity – our privilege – is that we can make a difference in this world despite the death, destruction and divisions we see around us and that burden our hearts. We can open our eyes and ears and our selves to the moments of resurrection that fairly shimmer around us. We can move forward boldly because the love of God in Christ transforms all things. Alleluia! Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!

​1. “Renewal of Vows sermon”, April 2023, Anna Woofenden 2. The Rt. Rev. Doug Fisher, Diocesan Convention address, Diocese of Western Massachusetts, October 2022