Sermon: Great Easter Vigil at Sunrise

John 20:1-18

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. ²So she ran and went to Simon Peter 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." ³Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. ⁴The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. ⁵He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. ⁶Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, ⁷and the cloth that had been on Jesus' head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. ⁸Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; ⁹for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. ¹⁰Then the disciples returned to their homes.
¹¹But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; ¹²and 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. ¹³They 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." ¹⁴When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. ¹⁵Jesus said to her, "Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?" Supposing 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." ¹⁶Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, "Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). ¹⁷Jesus 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 ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.'" ¹⁸Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Live Boldly

“O what a beautiful morning, O what a beautiful day. I’ve got a beautiful feelin,’ everything’s going God’s way.”

They sang that song every morning on the trail when I was riding with the cattle through Eastern Ohio. Those ranch-hands always thought it was funny to wake us up in that way, even though we were miles away from Oklahoma, and while mildly annoying so early in the morning, I can’t imagine another morning where it would be more appropriate.

Easter morning! It’s an exciting time. It’s a time when we can really exclaim, really celebrate in fullness that God has kept the promise, that God has taken away death’s sting, that God has moved past death into a new life.

And it is exciting! Exciting enough to wake up before the sun, to show even the sun, even all of creation, that this day is worth getting up early for, worth celebrating even in the darkness before dawn.

Because that is, after all, when all of this began. John’s Gospel puts Mary coming very early in the morning to the tomb. She comes “in darkness,” as the text says, “to look at the tomb.” Now that word “look” is very deceiving in the English. In the Greek it’s much better.

You see, in the Greek it is clear that Mary isn’t coming just to “look” at the tomb, she’s coming to “study” the tomb, to contemplate it, to meditate on it, to dissect it mentally. In the early morning, in the darkness of the morning, even in the darkness of her faith (after all, her Rabbi has just been murdered), she comes to study what has happened.

She comes in the darkness to study her faith.

And why are you all here? Well, that’s kind of an unfair question, as we know the end of the story. But really, we should be here to study our faith, to dissect, to meditate, to contemplate the tomb. Because, it is in coming in that way that we are truly surprised again.

And Mary is surprised. So surprised, in fact, that she doesn’t have time to meditate and study the tomb. The whole place is in shambles! The stone is rolled away, the body is missing; its all gone. She has come in quiet to dissect, and the quiet morning turns into a whirlwind of activity.

And she runs to the other disciples, and they run to see the tomb as well. They also find things in shambles, but quickly make their exit. After all, they don’t want to be accused of stealing the body. They had to get out of there.

But not Mary. No. Mary stays. The Gospel of John has Mary staying by the tomb. She is going to study the tomb, like she first set out to do. And so she sits and she cries by the tomb. These are tears that probably would have come whether or not the tomb was empty, because she is doubly grieved now. Not only did they kill her Rabbi, they’ve now taken his body. And so she sits at this grave in the middle of a garden, and weeps as she studies.

But this is not the first time there has been weeping in a garden. In the book of Genesis, we find God in the garden, weeping with Adam and Eve as they have first sinned. Weeping because creation can no longer be innocent. Weeping because the relationship between humanity and the creator had been torn asunder. But instead of a tomb stone, a flaming sword would close this tomb.

And even the night before there was weeping in the garden, as Jesus sat at Gethsemane, wondering what was going to happen next. Crying because all was about to fall apart. And as those soldiers approached with flaming torches, Jesus knew that his relationship with his disciples would be torn asunder, as they all fled and Peter denied him.

It seems that gardens and crying go together. So when we find Mary weeping in the garden, with her plans to meditate, to contemplate, to peacefully grieve over her Rabbi, her Master, her Jesus torn asunder, we should not be surprised.

But then enters the Gardner.

In John, Mary is sitting by the tomb, and Jesus comes up behind her. But Mary doesn’t know it’s him. She thinks it’s the Gardner. Mary mistakes Jesus for the Gardner and says to him, “Please sir, if you’ve taken the body, tell me where it is.” She actually asks him if he’s taken the body. Oh, how funny. How funny! Because you see, Jesus is the Gardner and he has taken the body! It is him.

But Mary doesn’t know it until.

But Mary doesn’t know it until he calls her name.

All Jesus says is “Mary.”

All he has to say is her name.

And in that calling, in mentioning Mary’s name, in calling Mary by her name, every relationship that was torn asunder is suddenly mended.

The fall in Eden, the betrayal in the Garden of Gethsemane, the death on the cross, the strained relationship of humanity as a whole, with us, with our own strained relationships are suddenly mended with the love of God. Because God knows our name, just as he knows Mary’s name, and calls to us past death into a new life.

And Mary, who had come to weep, who had come to meditate on death, is now raised to new life.

And imagine it, an actual raising. I can imagine Mary sitting, weeping, and turning. Jesus calls her by name and she can’t help it, can’t help but get up. Can’t help but rise from where she is to run and meet the God who knows her by name, who has called her from her tears of sadness into tears of joy.

She can’t help it! That’s God’s way!

And she can’t keep it to herself either, she must tell the other disciples. And she is bursting with the news. You can tell because, when she meets the other disciples the only words she can utter are, “I have seen the Lord!”

Bursting, just bursting with the news of God. In the resurrection of Christ, she too has risen to a new life. A life of proclamation, not of tears. A life of contemplating how God moved from death to life, not how everything died before her eyes.

And that is the way of God this morning. That is what we celebrate in such a grand fashion this morning. We celebrate the ultimate bursting of God, bursting from that tomb, the grace of God, which has overflowed in our lives to repair what is torn asunder.

And we are no stranger to weeping in gardens. We’ve wept in the gardens of life all too often. Over relationships torn asunder. Over dreams long buried. Over friends and loved ones.

But on this day. On this day we are reminded that Jesus Christ has beaten death, has repaired the irreparable, that God is working God’s way! On this day we are reminded that we are also raised with Jesus Christ, and with Mary, from that place and brought into a new understanding, a new meditation, a new garden of Eden where we are called by name and loved just the same.

And at hearing this, we cannot help, we cannot help but burst with the news. We cannot help but live! Truly live! Truly live as Christ truly lived on that fateful Sunday morning.

And what does it mean to truly live? I think Mary gives us a great example. It means that we run to share what we have seen and heard about God.

But how? There is another image I want to give you this morning as well.

There is a story about St. Francis. Later in his ministry with the poorest of poor, it is said he walked up to an almond tree in the dead of winter and spoke to it. He said to the tree, “Speak to me about God.”

And it is said that the tree immediately began to bloom.

In the dead of winter, it began to bloom.

Easter is here to remind us that to speak about God means to bloom, to burst, with the news of aliveness. Even in the deadest of winter, even in the gloomiest of tombs, Easter reminds us once again that God is blooming! And that we are blooming!

So, people of God, this morning know that everything is going God’s way. So live boldly! And go, bloom for the world, telling others, bursting with joy, that Jesus Christ is living again! Amen.