SEEING THROUGH THE TEARS

John 20: 1-18

Festival of the Resurrection of our Lord

April 16, 2006

There are several stories we could follow this Easter morning as we read along in John’s account of Jesus’ resurrection.

We could follow the women who, with Mary Magdalene, came to the tomb very early that first day of the week. They came to properly care for Jesus’ body. In the busy-ness of that Good Friday, they had left such things to men—Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus—and now, they had come to dress Jesus’ body properly. They came for closure—they came to say, “Good-bye” because they knew Jesus was dead. They didn’t find things the way they’d expected.

We could also, I suppose, follow Peter and the other disciple, probably John himself, through the events of that morning. Peter had already moved through to understanding that whatever was happening—as Mary brought the news of the body’s disappearance—was in God’s hands. John recognized that vandals hadn’t been the culprits—things were too orderly—and perhaps understood that something had happened beyond what they’d expected.

Mary, though, is the character through whom John tells most of the story that first Easter morning. That morning, Mary weeps. Amazingly, Jesus—the One for whom she weeps—meets her in her tears and invites her to see through her tears. Easter’s news is not just for Mary. John tells us Mary’s story as part of the story of Jesus the Christ, so that by reading our stories along side Mary’s—and the others—we might believe and have life in His name. So Jesus calls your name and mine inviting us to see Him through the tears.

Mary Magdalene has gotten a lot of press lately. That’s interesting because it’s all conjecture. We really don’t know much about her. We know where she’s from—Migdol in Hebrew, Magdala in Greek. We know that she was a follower of Jesus—one of the Gospel writers tell us Jesus expelled seven evil spirits from her—so we know that Jesus changed her life. Other than that, we really don’t know much about her.

We do know where she was on Good Friday, though. The Scriptures tell us she was with Mary, Jesus’ mother, and the other women—and John—at the foot of Jesus’ cross. She watched for the hours as Jesus suffered His torment. She heard Him cry out, “It is finished!” She watched Him die.

She also must have watched as Nicodemus and Joseph took the body off of the cross. No doubt, by the way His limbs flopped and the way His body laid, she knew He was dead. She followed them as they took His body, wrapped quickly in the burial cloth, to the tomb in the garden nearby. She may have waited to see the stone rolled across the entrance. She knew Jesus was buried.

That morning, after everything happens, Someone approaches her and asks her a question. “Woman, why do you weep?” the stranger asks. Why does Mary weep?

She weeps over what seems lost. We can guess by what the Gospel writers tell us that Mary’s life had not been what she’d wanted before she met Jesus. (Is anyone’s?) When He spoke and expelled the evil spirits, when He taught and when He invited her into the Kingdom of God, perhaps for the first time, hope blossomed in her heart. Could it be possible that God loved her as Jesus taught?

Now, hope had died with Jesus. So Mary wept.

Perhaps she also wept because that morning, the world seems especially mean. As she and the other women arrived at the tomb and found the guard gone and the tomb open and empty, they must have assumed the worst. Maybe they thought this the work of vandals or thugs hired by the chief priests and officials. “Couldn’t they have left Him alone in death?” she might well have screamed out. She weeps because this may have just been random—and so the world seems especially mean.

Her perspective might have changed later that morning as she heard the men in the tomb tell her that Jesus wasn’t there. She still believes Him dead, so she may have assumed those angels to be workmen in the garden. Turning around she assumes the gardener is talking to her. Now, the world

just seems stupid. These men, she assumes, are driven by some silly rules the garden has, so they’ve moved Jesus’ body. She weeps because the world seems awfully stupid that morning, and God feels terribly far away.

Isn’t it amazing that when we feel God is far away, He’s standing right in front of us? Jesus stands in front of Mary and with one word, calls her to see through her tears. He speaks her name. “Mary” He calls her to see beyond what she thinks she knows is true to see what really is true. He lives. He is raised. She can believe.

Jesus speaks her name and calls her back into hope. He did die so that we could live. He paid the penalty for our sins—took His Father’s wrath full upon Himself—so that we could be set free. Now He has overcome death. The death sentence is fulfilled and that life in the Kingdom Jesus taught about has begun. There is reason for hope. As Mary recognizes Jesus, that hope blossoms again. With hope, she knows Easter’s joy—even through her tears.

Jesus calls her into that joy. That joy is not just for Mary. She can’t hold Him there, for herself. He died and is raised for everyone—you and I included. Jesus tells her to go and tell the news to the disciples. So Easter’s joy is for you.

So, why do you weep? What’s your story?

What in your life looms so large that hope is snuffed out? Did you come to church this morning, hoping to hear again in the Easter story, in the hymns, in the music the assurance that hope could still be had in your life? Do you weep—is your heart broken—over some loss that has robbed you of hope?

Does the world seem especially mean right now? Is there something you’re enduring right now that is the result of others? Does the world just seem stupid today? When you think about tomorrow and having to go to work or to school and leave this place of music, is there a sense of dread or hurt that makes you weep because God seems very far away?

Remember how it was with Mary—she felt God was far away and Jesus was right in front of her, calling her name. He is for you today—calling your name, inviting you to see though your tears and see Him raised from the dead. He speaks to you in His Word this morning. Where John records Mary’s name, hear yours.

He calls you out what you think is true into what is really true. He died so you can live. He was abandoned by His Father so could be connected to His Father. His lives so you can live in hope. Those things in your story that you think should separate you from holy God are forgiven—not just in concept, but really forgiven. Today as Jesus calls you by name, He speaks His forgiveness to you.

He calls you to His Supper today to meet you in your tears with His body and blood. The body that was nailed to the cross, that body that died, that body risen from the dead is joined with yours. All that He did, you and I are made a part of. The blood poured out on the altar of the cross for the forgiveness of sin—meeting the Scriptural requirement—and in which, also as Scripture declares, there is life, connects you and me to His life. Our stories are joined with His story and we have reason to hope. Like Mary, our lives are changed. Easter makes everything different.

You and I can leave this place, seeing that everything is different because Jesus lives. Mary went to the disciples with the news, Peter and John went home to wait and see what impact Easter would have. Jesus meets us and joins us to the news—He lives. Everything is different. Tomorrow at work or school, going on to face that loss in your life that so far has robbed you of hope, facing each day full on—everything is different because the One who calls us is greater than the ones who are in the world and He has had the victory! A victory that gives us hope, even as we weep.

So join Mary today. Let her story and your story be heard together, because they are really part of Jesus’ story. Let your voice join with Mary’s and tell the news, “I have seen the Lord” even through your tears. Let your heart join Mary’s and let hope live again today and tomorrow.

Join your story with that of all believers today. Join the generations who have seen their tears the truth of Jesus’ resurrection. Join your voice today in shouting the hope and the joy such news brings in the ancient exclamation: He is risen! He is risen indeed. Alleluia!