"Everything Is Different Now"
John 20:1-18
In the early gray light of morning, when the sun is not quite up; when it is in that period when it is difficult to distinguish reality from shadow, a woman makes her way through the streets of Jerusalem. Her step is slow but purposeful. She pauses at the gate of the city for a moment, looks up toward a hill outside the city wall where, shrouded still in darkness, three empty crosses stand. She dries a few tears from her eyes, then moves on, carrying on her shoulders an unseen burden. Slipping along the outer wall of the city, finally she comes to a small garden - to a tomb in the garden where, some thirty-six hours before, her friend, Jesus of Nazareth, had been hastily buried. In this quiet place, she has come to be alone with her thoughts, her memories, her grief.
She remembers a little girl, playing in the rough streets of Magdala, where the fishermen of Galilee came to unwind after a hard day of work. She remembered the attractive young woman who caught the attention of many sailors, who soon learned that they would give gifts quickly for her favors. Painful memories - of the looks of townspeople, of her father throwing her out of the house, telling her that she was no longer welcome there, of years of misery and loneliness that followed, years filled with self-loathing and guilt, as she lost herself in her new profession. At least the sailors thought she was pretty and were willing to pay for her attention. Her family called her sick, demon-possessed.
She remembered the day that Jesus had come along. She smiled a little as she remembered - a rabbi - a religious man. She remembered how, instead of condemning her, he told her of God's love for her. It was as if he held up a mirror to her and, instead of seeing what she had become, she could see what God had created her to be - and it was beautiful! In the love of this rabbi, she was freed from her past, and reborn. She had come to believe in this love - she had come to believe that it was stronger than anything - stronger than her self-loathing, stronger than her sin, stronger than the insults that had been hurled at her, stronger than any force she had known. It was God's own love, reaching down to her, through this man of God. So she left everything she had behind, and followed him - free, happy and whole. She was one of the inner circle - a woman, a prostitute, yet accepted and loved by Jesus.
Then came Good Friday, and everything fell apart. He was arrested, beaten, vilified, and hung on a cross to die. It was partly her fault, she knew. Her, and others like her whom Jesus had loved - that had brought down the wrath of the Jewish authorities on him. She shuddered. Was it the chill of the morning air, or the thought - that it might be for her sake that he died.
The shadows slowly receded as dawn broke over the garden. It was interesting, she noted, that she was the only one to come. The others were too afraid. It didn't matter to her - she had already lost the only thing important in her life - the only thing that made life worth living.
In the early morning rose of dawn, as she sat in the garden, she turned to watch the sun break over the tomb. It was then that she noticed that the stone was rolled away. Her weak knees could barely carry her to the tomb - it was empty! It wasn't enough that they killed him - even in death, they would not let him be! She ran to tell the others, but only Peter and John would come, and confirm her story. Then they returned to their hiding place, shaken and fearful.
But Mary remained in the garden, her watch of love shattered dissolving into despair. Then, in the midst of her abject misery and hopelessness, she hears a familiar voice call her name: "Mary!" And everything is changed. Everything is different now.
Through the next two thousand years, historians, scholars, theologians, clergy and laity alike, have pondered what that difference is. Some have questioned whether it really happened: in the face of the misery that engulfs our world, how can we declare a love greater than the grave, that good will ultimately win out over evil? In the light of reason and in the clear-eyed face of scientific fact, can we really hold to such out-dated notions as the dead coming back to life again?
I can tell you with great certainty that these were not the questions that plagued Mary of Magdala in the early dawn of morning. She would have been unimpressed with the thesis that the empty tomb meant the triumph of good over evil. She would have been unimpressed with the historic documentation of the resurrection. She would not have been impressed with the theological declaration that her eternal destiny was now in the hands of the God of Life. What she needed, what she was searching for, what her heart hungered for - was a love powerful enough to break the chains of her sorrow, that could lift her out of the deadness of her spirit, and enable her to walk with hope and confidence. She needed to see herself again through the eyes of Jesus - and for that, she would need him present again. She needed Jesus to call out her name again, and to confirm that his love for her would never die - that neither death nor life could separate her from that love. She needed to touch Jesus again.
In the early rose of dawn, a woman sits weeping in a garden. Until her Lord calls her by name: "Mary!" And she turns. And he is there. And everything is different now. Where there was death, now there is life. Where there was despair, there is hope. Where there was overwhelming sorrow, there is endless joy. Where there was only a tomb, there is new life.
What will Easter mean for you today? I read the story of a pastor on the internet a few days ago. They said that they had a person come to their church that was unfamiliar with the Gospel story, so they invited them to Sunday School, where they were talking about Easter. And the person said, "Well, it's fine that people believed that two thousand years ago. But what difference does it make in your life?" And no one could answer. Not even the pastor.
How would you answer that question today? G. K. Chesterton once said: "A Christian will do two things: dance out of the sheer sense of joy, and fight out of the sheer sense of victory." Is that where you are today? Do you get up in the morning full of the sense of possibility - that anything can happen - that our God is the God of new possibilities, of resurrection faith? Has the acceptance and love ignited by Jesus given you a new and different sense of who you are, and of what your life is about? Has it led you to a life of laughter, of love, of generosity of the heart? Do you hear Jesus calling your name, confirming for you that his love for you will never die?
In the early gray dawn, a woman sits alone, weeping in the garden, when the voice of Jesus calls her: "Don't weep Mary. Do not fear. Do not cling to something that is past - a dead hope, an old remembrance. Go back to my brothers and sisters now. Go back to life - not the old life, but to new life, resurrected life. Because now I am with you always - and forever! Nothing can ever again separate you from my love!"
Christ is risen!
He is risen indeed!