Delivered by The Rev. John D. Painter at Centenary United Methodist
Church Metuchen, New Jersey on April 4, 2010 (Easter Sunday)

Texts: Luke 24:1-12; John 20:1-18

But on the first day of the week, at early dawn, they came to the tomb, taking the spices that they had prepared. They found the stone rolled away from the tomb, but when they went in, they did not find the body. While they were perplexed about this, suddenly two men in dazzling clothes stood beside them. The women were terrified and bowed their faces to the ground, but the men said to them, “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you, while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners, and be crucified, and on the third day rise again.” Then they remembered his words, and returning from the tomb, they told all this to the eleven and to all the rest. Now it was Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women with them who told this to the apostles. But these words seemed to them an idle tale, and they did not believe them. But Peter got up and ran to the tomb; stooping and looking in, he saw the linen cloths by them-selves; then he went home, amazed at what had happened. —Luke 24:1-12, NRSV

Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Pe-ter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Suppos-ing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “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 as-cending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her. —John 20:1-18, NRSV

Last Sunday morning we gathered here in festive Palm Sunday celebration much as Je-sus’ followers did before the cross—before the events of a horrific week that ended on Calvary’s torturous hill and in a cold, silent-as-stone tomb. This beautiful Sunday morning we gather in joyous Easter jubilation beyond the cross. For God has rolled away the stone; the tomb is empty; life has triumphed over death. Hallelujah!

But in between these two festival Sundays, a number of us have also stood beneath the cross of Jesus. And there we have understood more completely God’s awesome self-sacrifice. Perhaps we have experienced the blessing of honestly naming our own demons—our deepest pains and hurts and sins—and felt them being nailed to the cross, so that we might be released from the bondage of death to live in the freedom of new life which God offers us. We have been engaged in the struggle between death and life. During this past Lent we sought to Live Like We Were Dying, and now, on Easter; we seek to Die Like We Were Living. We want to proclaim that at the end of this 40-day journey, we are dying to all that seeks to keep us from truly living. We are no longer seeking the living among the dead.

Was it that long ago, that day that death and life struggled to possess her in the garden? Death was nearly welcome that morning, for she had little to live for. The one who had changed her life—who had given her life—had lost his, through no fault of his own. He only sought to offer people new life. But they feared the price.

Oh, She knew about the fear. She feared too, at first. He said she could change. He said God loved her just as she was, but wanted to offer her abundant life. He had said to her, “You only have to let the demons go.”

“Demons!?” Oh yes, that’s Mary Magdalene. There has been a lot of speculation over the centuries about Mary’s 7 demons, much of it a reflection of the demons in our own hearts. Truth is that the most powerful and insistent demon was probably the one that constantly told her she was worthless, unworthy of anyone’s love—especially God’s love.

“You must let go of that life,” Jesus had told her. How difficult that was. How she strug-gled against it. For if she was not worthless and unlovable, then she was worthy and capable, re-sponsible and powerful. What a risk it is to believe such truths. But day by day, as she began to believe it, she began to live it. She began serving with Jesus willingly, because she wanted others to know their value in God’s eyes.

Ah, but the demons of deception are powerful. If you are worthy, they will tell you that you are powerless. If you are self-righteous and do not want to confront the truth, they will rein-force your blindness and find you a scapegoat.

Such was the case for Jesus. He was the perfect scapegoat. If they killed him, they would not have to be tormented by his insistence that they look at themselves, that they free themselves from the demons that possessed them. And kill him they did, in a most shameful and cowardly way. With him dead, they knew that his followers would have no power. And they were right. Almost…

As dawn broke on that third day, Mary Magdalene went to the place where he was bur-ied. The tomb was desecrated, or so she thought. So she ran—ran to find Peter and John. They came and then, wrapped in their own grief, returned to share the devastating news with the oth-ers.

Mary stayed in the garden. She would stay there and weep, until she died of dehydration. She would stay there with her memory of Jesus. But she did not count on her memory going so far, so deep. The cold, insistent voice crept back into her head. “See, woman, you are worthless. You did nothing to save him. It should have been you hanging on that cross.” And then came the word that broke through to her, that death-defying word: “Mary.” She thought she would burst with the radiance of that word! It was him, her friend, her savior, her beloved, her guide, her hope.

He couldn’t stay. But he moved into her soul, sweeping it clean once and for all of all of the dark voices that threatened her. He made her an apostle, a bringer of good news. She was a source of strength to that little band of early followers, and together they carried his message in their words and actions.

I continue to love the Easter story of Mary Magdalene, this weeping, obstinate woman who just won’t leave the garden until she’s found what she’s seeking. From the demon-possessed, perhaps emotionally-ill woman she was, to the wise, persistent, loving disciple of Je-sus who comes to the garden alone, she knows—as the hymn says—that God hasn’t brought her this far just to leave her behind.

So she stays and waits. And watches. And where the other disciples see linen cloths, she sees angels. Where they see emptiness, she sees her beloved teacher.

Life is mysterious and we will never grasp it in full, except perhaps in our surrender and enjoyment of the journey.

Jesus whispers, “There is more,” not to distract us from the marvelous journey we are set on, but to free us to live it more fully. Jesus says, “Do not cling to me, Mary. Return to life.” Je-sus says, “Let go of me, and go and tell my brothers that I am returning to my Father and your God. Go back to life, Mary. Know that there is more, and let that knowledge free you to love more, and to live with joy.”

I hear a similar message from beyond the cross of Jesus. I hear the angels asking us, as they did the women at the open tomb on that first Easter, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” Why do we keep returning to the places of death—cruelty, bitterness, self-centeredness, unforgiveness, violence, feelings of worthlessness, substance abuse, indifference? Why do we continue to revisit the old sins, the old death-dealing habits, when through the baptism of resur-rection we have been called, brought forth into life? Why would we want to continue to poke around among the dead, when we can live in the joy of resurrection life?

In this, my final Easter message among you, I pray each of us will continue to live be-yond the cross, beyond those tombs of death. I pray that each of us will know, like Mary, that we are not worthless and unlovable, but that God’s audacious love refuses to let go of us. I pray we will come to realize that living beyond the cross is about forgiving the unforgivable; it’s about loving the unlovable, the untouchable, the outcast—reaching out to the least, the last and the lost. I pray that each of us can die like we were living with the assurance that God still cares and will always care about us; that Jesus is alive and present, standing upright among us; and, that the Holy Spirit is breathing new life into hearts and souls that once were as good as dead.

Through God’s immeasurable grace and unconditional love, there is no evil that we can commit that is ever beyond God’s ability to redeem. Put more simply, There is nothing in our badness that is greater than God’s goodness.

What a risk it is to believe such truths. But day by day, as we believe them, so will we live them. May each of us, like Mary, hear the death-defying word of our own name spoken by the risen Christ, receive the good news for ourselves, and spread Christ’s joy and hope to all whom we meet.

Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed!