American Falls – April 20, 2025

Easter – John 20:1-18

Peter goes to the tomb, looks in, observes the linen wrapping neatly folded and placed to the side.  He sees but comes to no conclusion and goes home. The other disciple goes to the tomb, looks in, perceives the linen wrappings and, after waiting for Peter, goes in.  For a second time, we are told that he sees and now believes.  There we have the range of responses to this day: those who simply observe all the fuss of this day, but come to no earth-shaking conclusions, and those who come this day having been here before, see the events of the day and trust that Jesus is alive.

But this is just the set-up for the story. Peter and the other disciples simply set the stage for a divine comedy, a tragedy turned into comedy by the awesome and surprising power of God. God interrupts the dying-burial process with resurrection.  

The story begins with Mary Magdalene, who stands weeping outside the tomb.  Through her tears, she can only observe the events around her: two angels who ask her questions, an empty tomb that suggests a stolen body and possible trouble for the disciples, and one who looks, through her tears, to be the gardener.

Mary does not even enter the tomb.  She sees the stone rolled away and assumes the worst. “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb,” she tells the disciples, “and we do not know where they have laid him.” She is overcome with confusion.  She cannot begin to discover what has happened. How many of us have been there, overcome with confusion, maybe tears? My father died in December 2020. In January, I journaled the weeks of his dying and each week I would inevitably start crying at my kitchen table. It was cathartic and good, but I was also in a complete daze. I can easily say that I barely remember anything else from the first three months after his death.

But later, Mary bends over and looks into the tomb. She sees two angels sitting where the body has been laying. Mary again explains, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”  

She turns around and sees who she assumes to be the gardener. She explains herself again and then he speaks. The man addresses her by name, “Mary,” and she recognizes him, “Teacher.” How powerful it is to be addresses by name. I think of Thursday evening when many of us gathered around the baptismal font, and I spoke the name of each person being baptized. A favorite theologian said that baptism is incredibly personal, but it is not private. In a way, the same could be true about Mary’s encounter with the risen Christ. It is so personal, but the experience eventually extends beyond the garden.

Although Mary cannot hold on to Jesus, through the tears she comes to see in a new way. She is no longer just an observer. Now she perceives resurrection and life. She joyfully proclaims her new perception to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord!”

Each of our discoveries take different shapes. We are all witnesses to the resurrection, but the witnesses are different. Jesus has been made known to us in many ways. Like Mary’s discovery, it sometimes comes when we are least expecting it—in the voice of someone we expect to be the gardener; in a place as simple as a classroom, in the words of forgiveness spoken every week, in conversations with good friends. Jesus is made known to us in many ways. We cannot always see Jesus on our own. It takes time, just as it took time for Mary.

We do not want to fall asleep and miss the resurrection, but we do not go out and find Jesus and invite him in. We do not roll the stone away. This may be the biggest barrier to Easter, to resurrection, to receiving the gifts of God’s love and forgiveness—that we do absolutely nothing to earn them but only hear our name and then receive. God reached into the tomb and into history, lifting Jesus up to new life. God will do the same thing for us. The Holy Spirit enters our lives, sometimes shouting and pointing, “There he is!  See there is new life!  See there is hope!” We rejoice in recognition—teacher, savior, Lord.

Out of recognition comes a commission. Jesus tells Mary, “But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” She goes. She is the first evangelist, the first apostle to proclaim the good news. Jesus has conquered death and is ascending to the Father.  Mary announces to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord.”  The discovery is complete. Mary did not just see Jesus. She knows Jesus and proclaims his resurrection. 

And you know the rest of the story. Jesus does indeed ascend to the Father. Then he sends the Holy Spirit to accompany you when you despair and are stuck on Good Friday, when the sting of death seems to go on and on and on. Like Mary, we have all shed our tears. Our perception is often impaired by the tragedies of our lives or the absorption of tragedies around the world. But the promise is that the risen Jesus speaks our name and brings you through the tears to perceive and believe that he is alive. 

Though the speaking of our name may be personal, the result is not. Your name was spoken in Baptism, and you became a part of the Body of Christ, the community of faith. In this community, gifts are given, discerned and employed, for the sake of the community’s mission—the witness of the Gospel. In Holy Communion, gifts are given for you. This is my body.  This is my blood for you.  In Holy Communion, we can hold Christ because he has risen and ascended into God’s being, and because, in this community, he descends to hold us.

Today we see the holy held in the ordinary. We, too, employ our physical sight.  We can observe the linen wrappings of the Communion table folded and laying to the side. We can observe ordinary bread broken and wine poured out. And through the faith that this community holds, you can perceive that it all adds up to resurrection—a new life, a new community.  

Through the tears, through the struggles of this life, through the doubts and fears of our hearts, we can only observe what goes on.  But as Jesus speaks your name and as you hold onto him through the community, he brings you through the tears, from tragedy to holy comedy, from blurred and blinded sight to this proclamation: Christ is risen, he is risen indeed. The risen Christ stands in our midst.