John 20: 1–18
|
|
Lord, may we hear your voice in the words spoken in your name. Amen.
|
According to John, that first Easter morning began quietly. There
were no trumpets, no fanfare, no angels singing in the sky — and
certainly no crowds, dressed in Sunday best. While it was still
dark, John tells us, Mary Magdalene left the city by herself, alone
with her thoughts, to walk to the garden tomb and finish whatever
ministrations she still might do to the body of her Lord. But her
composure disappeared as she approached the tomb and saw that the great
stone disk had now been rolled away, leaving the tomb’s entrance
wide open. One look inside the crypt confirmed her worst
fears — Jesus’ body was no longer on the ledge where they
had left it.
|
|
Distraught, Mary raced back to the house where she had left the other
disciples to tell Simon Peter, “They have taken the Lord out of
the tomb, and I don’t know where they have laid him.”
|
|
So, Peter and the disciple they called Beloved race back with her to
the tomb, to see for themselves if it’s true. Who could
have done such a thing? Was it grave robbers, irate Temple
officials? They have no idea. But now they all can
see that the tomb is empty, except for the grave clothes rolled together
and left in two neat piles in a corner.
|
|
That didn’t give them much information, but then, some of us get
things more quickly than others. For the Beloved Disciple, that
one quick look into the empty tomb was all he needed. As he
remembered how often Jesus had predicted he would rise again from the
dead – John suddenly got it. He didn’t understand
how it could have happened, but without another shred of evidence,
he believed the miracle that had just taken place. But for most
of us, it takes a little longer.
|
|
It certainly took Mary a while. She had to go back into that tomb
one more time – and speak to the two angels she encountered
there. Then she had to plead with a figure she took to be a
gardener, begging him to tell her where the body had been laid. And,
still, she didn’t get it. It was only when that figure she
supposed to be a gardener spoke her name – “Mary!”
that the impossible dawned on her – that this was Jesus. He
was alive. He was with her, once again!
|
|
In fact, it takes most of us a while to grasp this – that Jesus
now is alive in this world, our world. For of course, He did not
appear to his disciples that first Easter morning – only to
disappear forever, leaving them to wonder if they had simply imagined
the encounter.
|
|
From that Easter morning onward, He begins to appear, time and again,
to others. But just as he did with Mary, he comes alongside people
so quietly and patiently, so gently and humbly, it takes them a while
to believe what they are sensing or seeing or hearing. For
there’s no great thunderclap, no voice from heaven, no heavenly
light descending around them. There’s only Jesus, in some
ordinary disguise, beginning to walk alongside, reassuring each person
that their relationship with him continues. Is it a fragile
relationship? Of course it is. But it’s no less
precious for that fragility. And that is our Easter mystery.
|
|
For wherever there’s some kind of crucifixion, some kind of
death, resurrection is possible. Not necessarily of a body, but
certainly of hope — because Jesus is alive and has promised
never to leave us or forsake us. Think for a moment about the
people of Ukraine. That country’s crucifixion
continues. It is ongoing. But in their suffering, in their
sacrifice for one another, the people of Ukraine are finding new life
and new hope.
|
|
Sister Viktoriia Estera Kozun is a member of the Order of Saint Basil
the Great, a monastic community in East Ukraine. She writes
that when the war first began, she was so frightened she was never
sure she would live to see another day. So, as she fell asleep
each night, she would thank God for her life –
“because,” she says, “I did not know if I would
wake up.”
|
|
But as the war continued, she began to give thanks for the selfless
attitude of the monks and sisters around her who refused to leave
the people in need around them. She saw the courage of workers
who ran the railways in Ukraine, workers who — despite great
risk to themselves — continued to bring people to safety out
of crowded stations and crowded trains. And she saw the people
of Lviv, a city in the western Ukraine, welcoming refugees into
their own homes, at their own expense.
|
|
In fact, Sister Viktoriia says, she saw the whole world come to help
Ukraine – sending doctors, humanitarian aid, offers of shelter
in other countries. The offers to help, she says, never
stopped. And it was then she realized that God had not abandoned
them — but had come to their land in great power.
|
|
“This is our resurrection,” she says. “As we
gave up our own plans and surrendered to God’s providence, we
began to see our neighbors in need more clearly. We found ways
to help them. And now, having left fear and selfishness behind,
we have become a new people.”¹ This, too, I think, is
resurrection.
|
|
Thankfully, you and I do not have war to deal with in our country,
menacing people all around us. But each one of us has other
crises to deal with, other crosses we carry. So, when a new
crisis arrives on your doorstep, pay special attention to the
ordinary people who offer to help you, the quiet miracles you see
unfolding, right before your eyes.
|
You see, there are no ordinary miracles. There is only the
extraordinary miracle of Jesus Christ, alive, all around us.
Alleluia! He is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed.
And maybe now we can see it. That person offering to help you
might be Christ himself. But He walks beside us so humbly,
so quietly – we run the risk of thinking he’s just the
gardener.
|
Amen.
|
|
¹ As quoted in Connections April 2023 / Lent / Easter A
|
