Musical Prelude and Service.

John 20:1-18
I have seen the Lord.
This is the message that Mary takes to the other disciples after her encounter with the risen Christ.
We traditionally share the Easter response Christ is Risen: He is risen indeed! It is celebratory, hopefilled and meaningful, but “I have seen the Lord” is straight to the point, and also hope-filled;
especially considering it context.
In the midst of her grief, her fear and her despair, Mary meets and talks with and embraces Jesus.
And her grief transforms to joy and hope. On this day that we celebrate Jesus returning from death;
Jesus emerging from the tomb and offering hope and purpose to his followers, we can find ourselves
struggling with how to read this story. Is it a factual physical retelling of events from 2,000 years
ago? Or is it a story that we have shared and recounted over the generations that we attach
immensely significant symbolic importance to?
Either way I answer that question, people are going to disagree with me. If I proclaim that I believe
in a God capable of doing anything, I must acknowledge that Jesus rising from the dead is within the
realm of possibility. But if I am honest with myself, I struggle to say without doubt that yes, this truly
happened.
So where I find myself is saying what this story tells me, and I truly believe that God’s love
overcomes death. God’s promise of life, God’s love and care for creation is stronger than the tomb,
the rock and the violence that are the weapons of an empire that rules through the threat of death
and brutality. Even in the bleakest moments we encounter, Jesus comes to us, speaks our name and
offers love and hope.
There are four Gospel accounts of the resurrection. Each has its own details and significance. I tend
to lean towards John’s account. I am compelled by the imagery, the emotional responses of the
people that inhabit this story, and the many layers that we can peel through to find meaning in the
story. The accounts found in Mathew, Mark and Luke also carry significance and depth and emotion.
They are also worthy of reflection, and I will keep that in mind in future Easters.
But this year I chose to focus my thoughts on John.
One thing that is consistent among the narratives is the presence of Mary Magdalene. She is always
there. Mary is consistently charged with taking the good news of Christ’s resurrection and sharing it
with the other disciples. Of sharing this good news with the world. God entrusts the spread of the
news of Christ’s resurrection to either one particular woman or a group of women.
Mary comes to the tomb that is found in a garden. She appears to be alone. She comes in the dark,
burdened with grief and fear, only to find that the rock has been moved away and the tomb appears
empty. She runs back to tell the other disciples. Peter and an unnamed disciple whom Jesus loved;
most assumptions tell us this is John, hurry back. They are apparently racing. We are left with a
sense of real urgency added on to the grief and despair. They witness that the tomb is indeed empty;
jump to some conclusion and return. Mary lingers in the dark. Weeping.
It is then that she sees the angels who ask why she is crying.
“They have taken my Lord and I don’t know where they have laid him.”
She is specific in naming her grief. She has lost connection with Jesus. She came to spend time with
his body. Perhaps to anoint his body with oil. To pray over his body. To remain close to someone
who meant so much. We can only assume. But her grief is clearly very real. Where have they taken
his body? Mary wants to know.
She repeats her concern and fear to who she assumes is the gardener.
How does she not recognize Jesus is in this moment? This is a real question. Perhaps in the shadows
of the new dawn she cannot see his face yet. Perhaps she is so convinced of Jesus death; having
only a few days earlier witnessing him die on a cross, Mary cannot accept what her eyes are
revealing to her. Again, this is a point of speculation. But it is not until Jesus speaks her name that
Mary sees what is truly in front of her. Jesus Christ is Risen.
And she embraces him announcing Rabbouni!
When Jesus responds with do not hold on to me, or do not touch me or let me go, depending upon
the translation, I find myself looking closely at Mary’s total actions and grief through out this story.
She is looking for Jesus’ s body. She is so full of grief. So overwhelmed with sorrow and loneliness at
the knowledge of her friend’s death; the loss and the pain that are part of that grief, she is held by
the tomb.
It’s natural. It makes sense. We can empathize with Mary’s grief and despair. We have felt this
ourselves. Perhaps we feel this ourselves, or something akin to it. We cannot see our way out of this
dark place. Mary names her grief. And Jesus is revealed to her. Don’t hold on to me, I have yet to
ascend. Let me go. I have more to do. And so do you. Share this news with my other disciples.
This story resonates in so many ways with us. We have heard this story for millennia now. It is a
story of hope. It is a story of how life and love keep returning. How life and love have never in fact
gone away completely. We keep encountering death. It is a part of life. We must endure the loss of
friends, of loved ones. People who are the other half of us. We find ourselves grieving; over and
over. We know we are better for having that love in our lives, but the agony of loss is very real.
And we inevitably experience the sadness and the anger that we must endure such loss.
We are afraid to leave ourselves vulnerable to this loss again.
And yet we know we will. And we are reminded again, that life, love, hope and joy; laughter comes
with the morning. And we must let go and carry on.
Sharing the news – I have seen the Lord. Christ is risen.
All of this is very personal. It notes the very personal sense of loss and fear, but the story is aimed at
a community. We are a community. We are part of a larger world that is enduring loss; enduring pain
and struggling with the fear of what today and tomorrow and next week and next year could bring.
We are beset with threats and fears. Threats from white supremacy, Christian Nationalism,
authoritarianism. Rising militarism that seems intent on dragging us into further armed combat.
Resources dedicated to preparing for war, while our fellow human beings try to get by with
underemployment and rising costs of living.
These fears, this sense of inevitability and grief at the dwindling sense of hope are very real. We can
find ourselves grasping for something that seems gone. We can be tempted to linger by the tomb,
wishing to hold on to that which seems lost.
But the morning comes, the sun rises, and with it can our eyes be opened to the life, the love, the
beauty that is blooming all around us. Let us see that God is still at work in and through us and all
around us.
The grief; the loss is real. That has not changed. But there is life, there is hope and we are told to let
go of that which is gone. We are told to share the news.
I have seen the Lord. Christ is Risen. Christ is risen indeed and we have good news to share and a
life to live and love to share. Amen.
Rev. Warner Bloomfield

Music provided with permission through licensing with CCLI License number
2701258 and One License # A-731789