Easter – More Than A Story

Dr. James Mayfield
Tarrytown United Methodist Church

April 16, 2006

Text: John 20:11-18

We cannot fully appreciate Easter, unless we have some sense of what the first followers of Jesus were experiencing after he had been crucified. It was more than heartache because a friend had died. It was more than fear that they might be arrested and also crucified. Their grief was the most terrible kind of grief because Jesus' death was for them the death of hope. Unless we have some idea, some sense, of what it is to have hope crucified, dead and buried, it is unlikely we will fully appreciate what Easter really is and means.

I know of no experience in life that is more devastating than the loss of hope. As heart wrenching as the death of someone we love is, that death is not as devastating as the loss of hope. When hope is dead, death has the last word and opposition to all that is wrong seems futile. Without hope, chaos, pain and destruction become more potent than order, joy and the good people do. When hope is gone, and somehow we are still able to stumble on through life, it is because of our stoic endurance and the dark, bitter humor of cynicism. When hope dies, the beautiful flowers of what could have been die stillborn, like seed rotting in the ground. Without hope, we live our lives moving from one day to the next like someone abandoned in a dry, barren, lifeless desert -- wandering through our days with no sense of anticipation of joy and doctoring our depression and despair with the anesthetic of exhausting ourselves in work and play. When hope is gone, we are unable to experience peaceful rest or happy anticipation.

The initial impact of the crucifixion on the followers of Jesus was the death of hope. In the Gospel of John's version of the Easter story, Mary from Magdala went to the tomb early Sunday morning, grieving, bewildered, confused. She went there alone. Perhaps she was seeking some sort of comfort, the way we do sometimes when we visit the grave of someone we have dearly loved.

When she arrived there she saw the stone sealing the tomb had been removed. Immediately she was convinced someone or some group had stolen Jesus' body or at least moved it from the tomb that had been hastily put to use on Friday. That is what she ran to tell Peter and the others. Peter and John hurried to the tomb and found it just as Mary said. When they left, Mary remained there alone, weeping outside the tomb.

Then she looked inside for the first time and there she saw two angels -- one sitting where Jesus' feet had been and the other where his head had been. In her state of sorrow and hopelessness she was not impressed by the angels. Perhaps in her grief, she was unable to recognize these messengers from God.

They asked her: “Why are you weeping? It was more than a question. It was a veiled proclamation of the resurrection. They were saying: “Don't you realize what this means?” But in her hopelessness, Mary was unable to hear anything more than a superficial question. “I am crying because they have taken my Leader, my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

Then she turned to leave and bumped into the risen Christ, but she did not recognize him. That is strange because Jesus had brought such healing to her life; her life had been transformed by what he did for her. Mary had followed him ever since then and had even kept vigil with him as he died his slow, suffering death on the cross. But now she did not recognize him.

I do not know all this means, but whatever else it means, it means Mary was so overcome with sorrow and hopelessness she was no longer able to recognize the one who had given hope to her life. I know when I have seen the hope that energized my life crucified, dead and buried, I have had difficulty recognizing new hope, hope raised from the dead. The anguish and despair over what I had lost, blinded me to the new creation of hope.

I think this is the way it is for all of us when we have seen what we have loved crucified, dead and buried -- especially when that love has energized our living. In such times of deep grief, we find it difficult, if not impossible, to recognize any signs of the resurrection of hope. When we have seen a contemporary crucifixion of someone who gave himself or herself for the good others, when we have seen that good, self-giving person betrayed, denied, crucified for his or her efforts and that person's reputation or future have been destroyed, we can be so hopelessness we are unable to recognize the resurrection of self-giving love even when it is right in front of us. When hope has died, our hearts are blind and unable to recognize the resurrection of hope -- even when it is staring us in the face.

Mary, owed her life to Jesus and was so committed and loyal to Jesus so devoted to him in profound love, that his cruel death shattered the hope she had. Her spirit as well as her heart was broken and left her unable to recognize the risen Christ right in front of her tear filled eyes.

“Why are you crying?” the risen Christ asked her; “Whom are you looking for?” In other words: “Don't you see who I am?” But Mary saw no risen Christ, no resurrection of the incarnation of God's grace, no resurrection of hope for this life or any life to come. To her this man was merely one who took care of the place where the dead are buried -- one who keeps watch over the tombs, cuts the grass and waters the flowers that are tender tokens of love that once flourished.

“Sir,” she said. “Sir, if you have taken Jesus somewhere else, show me. If you took him out of that tomb because it did not belong to him or his family, show me where you have taken him and I will find a proper place to bury his dead body.” Her faith was gone. Her hope was gone, but her love for this amazing traveling rabbi who had given back her life remained; her gratitude for what she had been given remained, even though the hope she had had for her tomorrows and for the tomorrows of the world was gone. Because of her shattered faith and hope she could not recognize this new being, the resurrected Christ speaking to her. “Sir,” she said, “if you know, tell me where I can find his dead body.”

Then Jesus called her by name: “Mary.” It was then she could see who he was. When Christ called her by her name, Mary was able to recognize him. “Rabbouni – Teacher of Teachers” she exclaimed and flung herself to embrace him, to hold on to him.

We can hear stories about God and Jesus and grace and it can be interesting and informative but certainly not powerful enough to give us hope after the crucifixions that happen in life have left us hopeless. We can observe what others say and do, we can hear sermons and read the Bible and study books about Christianity, but until the Reality within it all calls us by name, it is as if we are having conversation with a gardener in a cemetery. It is not until our encounter with the risen Christ becomes personal, it is not until the Christ calls us by name, it is not until we have a personal encounter with the risen grace of God that we are able to move beyond mere information and theory and find ourselves revived by a new hope, the kind of hope that is only possible on this side of the cross.

And when that happens to us, we reach out to grab hold. It is too good to let go of. We want to embrace this new gift of hope with all that we are because we who have experienced hopelessness know how precious hope is. Without hope our faith is drained from us, and our love, lives only in memory. Of course we want to grab what gives us life, real life, life energized by the vitality of hope.

In her joy, Mary grabbed hold of Jesus. “Don't hold on to me,” Jesus said. “You must let me go. I am on my way to my Father and Your Father, my God and your God.” Oh, we want to hold on to those moments of insight, those moments when we know the Christ, the incarnation of God's love, has called us by name. We latch onto those moments. We hug them tightly.

And Jesus said to Mary: “Do not hold on to me. I am on my way to our Father. Go tell the others what you know.”

When the risen Christ, when the Christ who lives this side of Golgotha encounters us in the midst of our deepest need and we know we have been claimed by name, we know there is hope. Death does not have the last word. Evil will not win. Injustice will not win. All that is wrong and hurtful in the world will not have the final say. There is hope. We know there is hope because we have been encountered by the crucified Christ, risen from the dead. The grace of God that was crucified, dead and buried and has been raised up to new life, has called us by name and told us to go tell others. There is hope, even after crucifixion.

God, help us discover in a most powerfully personal way that Easter is much more than a story about something that happened a long time ago, that Easter is the reality of grace resurrected from the dead giving us hope beyond the hopelessness brought on by crucifixions. Amen.