delivered 12 April 2009
by Rev. Dr John Evans
Acts 10:34-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
1 Cor. 15:1-11
John 20:1-18
'Noli Me Tangere' by Fra Angelico (Florence, 1425-30 CE)
Mary Magdalene, that interesting, controversial supporter of Jesus, enthusiastically announces to the disciples that Easter morning: “I have seen the Lord.” John 20:18 says:
Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”
Of course, the story was very different just a little time earlier.
Since Good Friday the story had been about death; the appalling death suffered by Jesus on Golgotha, the place of the skull. It was now about doing the right thing: burying the body and respecting it.
Indeed Mark’s gospel records that Mary Magdalene, along with other women, were there when Jesus’ body was laid in a tomb by Joseph of Arimathea. And that gospel records it was Mary who, with these same women, brought spices early on the first day of the week to anoint the body. This was the first chance they could do this after the Jewish Sabbath – the Saturday.
No doubt, since the time of Jesus’ death there had been much recounting and retelling of stories about his ministry, his life, his teaching – and all the promise would have seemed dashed, destroyed. Their hopes had died with him. This was now the time to grieve and mourn, and do the right thing.
This journey to the cemetery was all about a body, a corpse, the past, what could have been. However, this changes dramatically when she discovers that the tomb is open, and it is empty. The large stone covering the entrance of the tomb has been rolled away.
Now from the account it would seem she does not venture inside the tomb at this stage. Rather, she immediately goes and tells Peter and an unnamed disciple whom we have come to call “the beloved disciple” – probably John. There is then an interlude in the story as these two race to the tomb, and also discover it is empty. But these two are flummoxed. As the gospel writer says, they did not yet understand what had happened, didn’t understand the scriptures, and they simply return home.
The star of the show is, however, Mary Magdalene and the story returns to her. She had begun this day wanting to pay homage to the body of her hero; however, by its end, it is this same One who comes to her, and calls her by name. Her life is transformed. Jesus has been raised from the dead. This transformation, for Mary, is the story of Easter – and it can be our story too.
Mary Magdalene has a wonderful, dogged, almost modern approach to this Easter morn. You see, she, with slight variation, states three times:
“They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
She says this first to the disciples; she says it again to mysterious angels within the tomb, and finally she says this to someone she believes to be the gardener:
“They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
Mary came to anoint the body of Jesus. She had seen the body being placed in this tomb, but it was now open, and the body was missing. “They” had taken him. Was it Joseph of Arimathea? Was it perhaps Nicodemus; or the Jewish authorities themselves? Was it the soldiers, tomb raiders? “They” had taken him, and at this point she just didn’t know where the body of Jesus was.
This was compounding her grief. The empty tomb did not lead to belief – or a sense of newness, or a sign of hope, or belief in the resurrection. Someone simply had taken the body.
Much is made of the empty tomb. We often talk about the empty tomb as a roundabout way of talking about the resurrection. However, of itself, an empty tomb does not show anything necessarily miraculous has happened. In fact, it is most likely that the beloved disciple, the one who got to the tomb first, believed in nothing more than what Mary Magdalene had told them – namely, the tomb was empty and they did not know where “they” had laid him. As John says, “for as yet they did not understand the scripture” . . . puzzled and confused, they slink home.
Mary, however, is on the money. She is here perfectly rational, logical and eminently practical. It is an empty tomb, therefore someone has stolen the body. It was the body after all which was the focus of her attention.
The angels – or whoever these mysterious people in white were – apart from discerning Mary’s grief (she is weeping) offer no guidance or help. (Compared with Mark’s account, where the young man in the tomb gives advice as to where Jesus may be found.) Mary then at this moment however, turns around and sees someone she believes to be the gardener. Again this person expresses concern for her obvious grief, but for the third time she asks, this time a little more pointedly, perhaps even ironically:
“Sir, you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.”
She has grief, perhaps even remorse, possibly shame that Jesus had died. She perhaps could have done more to prevent all of this; but now, where on earth is his body? She needs it; she needs to make sense of the past months and years. Where is the body? Someone must know. She needs to hold on to that moment – express regret, whatever. Not unlike we all do when good times end.
Of course we know the story mysteriously, miraculously, stupendously changes key. And it is is difficult to comprehend the story at this point. Jesus addresses her. Her quest for a body ends and a new future opens up with one word being uttered – her name.
“Mary!” (My Bible has an exclamation mark, perhaps the biggest exclamation mark in history.) “Mary!”
She now recognises the gardener is Jesus, and she responds. She does not call him directly by name – she says, “Teacher!” – also with an exclamation mark.
The risen Christ then, as if answering her question about where is the body, and all that implies about the past, quickly says, “Do not to hold onto me”. This encounter with the risen Christ, is not an encounter with a body, a dead body which has been resuscitated. Rather, this was the beginning of relationship for Mary with God himself. It was what these encounters would be like – for all of us. The “your” used here in the Greek, is plural:
“Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father, and your Father, to my God, and to your God.’” (20:17)
Mary’s frame of reference is blown away. Her search for a body — her search for meaning and purpose among the dead — is ended. Now she was called into a new future. Now breaking into her life was a new relationship with God; the crucified one was alive. She simply says: “I have seen the Lord” . . . and all that may entail for her in the future.
This is at the heart of Easter, and of our Easter faith, indeed of the Christian faith. It is mysterious, strange and oddly unsettling. The path that Mary Magdalene attempted to follow seems to our modern mind to be logical, understandable – someone took the body and laid it elsewhere. And if you want to go that path, that is understandable – it is the way of the world these days, and you will find difficulty with this core aspect of Easter, the resurrection. How did this miracle happen? What was its mechanics? etc.
But then remember Mary Magdalene. She was like that too. Though when confronted with the risen Christ, she believed.
But then Mary was questing for something. She was seeking something, even if it was in the past – a corpse. All the same she was looking, but when she was called by name, when the personal address came from the living Christ – a new future opened before her. She had seen the Lord. He was no longer dead, he was alive . . . and in a sense nor was she dead, but alive. There was now hope amidst her grief. As the risen crucified one said, there can now be a relationship with God. She had been found. This was the love of a gracious God. There was a new beginning.
God still calls us, even though we may seek the living, may seek hope and new life, among the dead.
We remember this when we were named, given our Christian name, in our baptism.
Our baptism marks that we too have died with Christ and are raised with him, and have this new life. This Easter morn, traditionally the time for baptism in the Church, let us do more than hearing this Easter account – but recommit our lives, recall the day when we were called, named, so we can say:
“I have seen the Lord.”
