Jesus: There and Here [John 20:1-18 - Easter Sunday]

 The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson

John 20:1-18

 

Jesus: There and Here

 

Mary was in the dark.  Early on the first day of the week, while the world was still shrouded in darkness, Mary Magdalene arrived at the tomb.  After the shock of Friday and the overwhelming grief of that empty Saturday, she was finally ready to confront what she knew but still could not believe: Jesus was dead.  The one who loved her and healed her and saved her was lying dead in a cold, stone tomb.

 

It was dark that morning but, during her bitter walk, her eyes had just enough time to adjust to the lack of light and she could see that the tomb, sealed on Friday, was standing wide open.  Her heart dropped further, if that was even possible.  It was yet another bad twist in her waking nightmare.  It was Easter Sunday and things just kept getting worse.

 

Mary was in the dark; she was devastated and spiraling.  The stone was rolled away and that seemed like the worst possible discovery on that gloomy morning.  Not only was Jesus gone but also he was gone.  She trembled before the gaping entrance to that place of death, three days into the worst moment of her life, overcome with despair.  It was Easter morning and there were no answers, no solutions, no happy ending in sight.  She came to be close to a body; it was a small consolation but even that was taken from her; the body was gone.  The tomb was empty.  And Mary was alone; she was devastated, and in the dark. 

 

But Jesus was there.

 

Had she known that Jesus moved his own body, Mary might have stayed, lingered, felt the stir of butterflies in her belly.  But in the wee hours of that morning, she was still in the dark.  And so she left – she hurried from that place of sorrow, ran as fast as she could.  She needed to get away.  She needed to find someone, anyone, who could understand her tears and her pain.  And so she found Peter and the other, unnamed, disciple.

 

And the bad news, the newest bad news, the Sunday morning bad news, exploded from her soul.  “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” 

 

No one asked any questions.  There was no conversation.  No one took the time to consider who or why someone might steal the body of a peasant, a condemned peasant executed on a cross by the Empire.  They just ran.  Three unsettled, joyless disciples, sprinting to a violated grave, on the first Easter morning.

 

They arrive at the tomb.  And as promised, the door was standing wide open.  And the body was not inside.  It was placed inside that tomb on Friday; it rested behind the stone on Saturday; but on Sunday it was missing.

 

Upon further inspection, all that was left inside were the linen wrappings, lying there where the body should have been.  The body was gone but the burial rags were left behind.  It was curious detail.  But for Mary and her pals, there was no hope in those rags.  And so the men walked away.  Their fears confirmed.  The story was true.  The tomb was, in fact, empty. 

 

But Jesus was there.

 

The men left but Mary stayed.  She stayed and she wept: a flood of tears wetting the desolate earth of that desolate place. 

 

After crying herself sick, she decided to look inside once more.  Who knows why?  She knew Jesus was still missing.  The rags inside were no consolation.  But still she wiped her blurry eyes and took another look.

 

This time, in place of the body, flanking the abandoned clothes, there were two angels, dressed in white.  And Mary engages them in conversation.  It had to feel like strange occasion.  She encountered no one as she wept outside the tomb, guarding the entrance in her grief.  No one was inside when they found the linen wrappings.  But now two beings were inside, sitting where the body should have been.  And she talks to them as if she were talking with Peter and the other one, sharing the same concerns – about the missing the body and its mysterious location.

 

The angels hear her out but they do not respond.  Her concerns are met with silence, left to hang in the stale air of a barren graveyard.

 

But Jesus was there.

 

In fact, he was right behind her.  Standing there.  The same question on his lips, the question posed moments earlier by the angels: Woman, why are you weeping?  The empty tomb could not stop her tears.  The disciples could not stop her tears.  The linen wrappings could not stop her tears.  The angels could not stop her tears.

 

But Jesus was there.

 

In the darkest moment of her life: Jesus was there.  In her heartbreak: Jesus was there.  In her despondency and despair: Jesus was there.  In her loneliness: Jesus was there.  As she wept in sadness and grief: Jesus was there.  When she thought he was missing and absent: Jesus was there.  Even though she could not at first recognize him: Jesus was there.  There to dry her tears and heal her broken heart.

 

That is the story at the heart of Easter: when things looked bad, when all appeared to be lost, when hope seemed hopeless: Jesus was there.  That desolate graveyard became a garden of possibility because Jesus was there.

 

Mary runs, again.  To the disciples, again.  She has news to break, again.  But the bad news is no longer bad because Jesus was there.  She ran back this time, not to solemnify but to testify, to testify to a body not missing but resurrected, not dead but alive.  Mary’s Good Friday world was transformed into an Easter reality because, when she needed him the most, Jesus was there.

 

And that story is no less true today.  Just as Jesus was there for Mary, Jesus is there for you.  Jesus is there in the midst of your sadness.  Jesus is there when you feel like you are all alone.  Jesus is there when your heart is breaking.  When things are hard and things are bad and things feel hopeless, Jesus is there. 

 

While this world is in the business of making Good Friday sorrows, we know the story does not end with Good Friday.  God writes Easter endings.  Good news gets the final word: Hope is stronger than despair.  Peace is more powerful than violence.  Life keeps singing alleluias at the grave.  And love always wins.  Friday is finished; it is Sunday.  Jesus is not dead; he is alive.  He is not missing.  Jesus is here!