“I have seen the Lord, now what?” Mary doesn’t ask that question, but that is the question our readings ask us today. Mary doesn’t ask that question, but it is the logical next step to say, “Now what?”
Of course, if we really want to know what this is all about, we could ask the three basic processing questions that I’ve used in years past on challenge courses and other leadership training events. I don’t know their origin, but I learned them from a friend in seminary. The three basic processing questions are “Say what?”; “So what?”; and “Now what?”
“Say what?” asks what happened. What was said? What was done? What is the content of the subject we are figuring out together? “So what?” asks what this information means. Why does it matter? “Now what?” asks what we are going to do with this information and our newfound understanding of it.
Our readings are the answer to the question, “Say what?” Isaiah speaks of a rich feast where God will swallow up death forever. On this Easter Day, we cannot help but think of communion in this way, and I’m reminded of a story that a friend told years ago about a child in their congregation who kept talking about the feast at church.
The parents were a little embarrassed and a lot confused. They did not use that language regularly for communion, and there certainly was not going to be a potluck that day, but when the communion elements were presented you could hear a little voice from the front saying, “Look, Mom! The feast!”
Sometimes children see things more clearly than we do, for this is the feast of God promised by Isaiah for you and me. Likewise, the words of Paul remind us that, since we have been set free from sin and death, we have a different perspective on the world with different opportunities and priorities that are waiting to be revealed.
Revelation is what we get when Jesus is revealed to Mary in John’s gospel. As she approaches the tomb there are no angles. There is not a loud crack as in other stories. The stone has already been rolled away, but all she gets is emptiness. Then Mary ran to tell the other disciples, and there was a weird foot race between Peter and Lazarus. Everybody wins, and everybody loses. There is nothing in the tomb but the linen cloth he was buried in. They go home, but Mary stays weeping in the garden.
Gardens play an interesting role in John’s Gospel. While other gospels tell of Jesus praying in the garden, John has Jesus arrested in a garden. The garden in our story is the place where Jesus died, and yet it is also the place of his resurrection. The gardens of betrayal and violence are replaced with a garden of restoration and hope.
Mary is there, in the garden, weeping. She looked in the tomb and saw two angels, who asked her “Why are you weeping?” As one does, she responds to the angels, “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where.” I imagine there might have been more to this conversation if Jesus had not appeared behind her. We might even ask why the first two didn’t see the angels. We might assume that her grief and her longing to honor and care for Jesus created the space within her that allowed her to see what was real and true.
Jesus again asks her, “Why are you weeping?” Clearly, she wasn’t quite in the space for the real and true because she said, “Sir, tell me where he has been laid, and I will be responsible for him.” He calls her by name and she recognizes him, listens to him, and tells others she has seen him.
According to John, Jesus chose Mary Magdalene, someone who could not even offer testimony on her own behalf in a court of law, as the first witness; the first evangelist; the first one to say, “I have seen the Lord! He is risen. He is risen indeed.”
That’s the story. That’s the “say what?” In order to get to the “So what?” we have to look a little past the story. We have to ask ourselves what gardens we linger in, suffer in, and come to for solace and hope?
Some seek solace in a bottle or other addictive pursuits. Some find themselves consumed by their work. Some even find themselves suffering as they give their time and energy to positive and helpful things, only to become consumed with doing without a connection to the reason behind it all.
Paul’s letter to the church in Colossae reminds us of our reason, our why, our “So What?” when he said, “We have been raised with Christ.” While he is speaking of spiritual truth, I can’t help but think of the change in perspective he describes from a physical viewpoint like flying into a large city at night. Several years ago I remember flying into LA. It was as though the hills were filled with a living fire, and it spread for miles. Not only that, but I was suddenly aware of more than just a power grid. I was aware that every blinking light and every street lamp was a testament to life, and I was as connected to them as I was to the person in the seat next to me.
Years prior I had the same kind of experience with a lit candle in my hand while standing around Lake Susan with over 1,000 youth at a Montreat Youth Conference. Every candle was a soul, beloved by God, and God was in our midst. God was not there because we lit candles and summoned God in some bizarre ritual. No. It was because we were in a space in which we were seeking God.
I could not tell you if even one other person had that same experience, but I know that I did. Truly, that is my hope for every Sunday that we come together, especially when we gather around this table for this feast!
In fact, when people visit – or any time we have a service or activity that is new and different – you might hear me say, “I hope you felt God’s presence today.”
You see, there is one more part of the question of meaning that the text confronts us with today, and I believe it is in Mary’s grief over the missing body of Christ. So often we hear a lament over the loss of rituals and practices and permissions we used to enjoy that made us feel like Jesus was in our midst, yet we have not addressed the inequalities that Christ came to challenge or the role of the church in supporting the systems that need and require reform. So often we lament over the lack of influence of the church in society, yet we have not addressed the pain and suffering caused by unchecked religious authority or the collusion of religious extremists and elected officials. We blame travel sports teams and social media for stealing young families from the church, and yet we want the comfort of a community formed on our terms and meeting our needs.
We cry out, “Where, O where, is the body of Christ that is the church that we know and love?” On Easter Sunday, and every day that we are willing to hear it, Jesus says, “Why are you weeping? I’m right here.”
Friends, I’m here to assure you that the church can still be a garden of hope and restoration, and resurrection! It is the place we may expect to see Jesus in our midst, but it is far from the only place where he is sure to appear. As we share in this feast of God’s abundant love, grace, and mercy, we have this assurance: our true nature is revealed in God’s.
You, beloved of God, were created in the image and likeness of the God of love, grace, and mercy, and “when Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.” The beautiful thing is that Christ is revealed in those times and places that we open ourselves to the presence of God that is already in our midst, and when we do that we become the presence of God one to another.
In fact, I like to think that we are all expressions of God in the way an artist might paint or a musician might compose – except that we get to continue the expression in new and wonderful ways that a piece of art might not. Sometimes I tell people, “I’m really glad you thought them up.” or “What a great idea God had when God thought of you!”
In the same year that God thought of me, 1970, God inspired someone to write a song that asked “Have you seen Jesus, my Lord?” and answered “Have you ever stood in the family (which could also be the church), with the Lord there in your midst. Seen the face of Christ on each other? Then I say... you've seen Jesus, My Lord.
Look around. Go ahead. These are the people with whom you will answer the question, “Now what?” You’ll still need to answer it on your own. You’re still invited and encouraged to seek the presence of God in all places and in all people. We are still being called to reveal the presence of God by holding the powerful accountable – even when that is you and me – and looking for God in the face of the stranger, the alien, and the outcast and welcoming them – just as you are – to this table, again and again, where we proclaim, “I have seen the Lord. He is risen! He is risen indeed.” and to God be the glory for that, now and always. Amen.
Of course, if we really want to know what this is all about, we could ask the three basic processing questions that I’ve used in years past on challenge courses and other leadership training events. I don’t know their origin, but I learned them from a friend in seminary. The three basic processing questions are “Say what?”; “So what?”; and “Now what?”
“Say what?” asks what happened. What was said? What was done? What is the content of the subject we are figuring out together? “So what?” asks what this information means. Why does it matter? “Now what?” asks what we are going to do with this information and our newfound understanding of it.
Our readings are the answer to the question, “Say what?” Isaiah speaks of a rich feast where God will swallow up death forever. On this Easter Day, we cannot help but think of communion in this way, and I’m reminded of a story that a friend told years ago about a child in their congregation who kept talking about the feast at church.
The parents were a little embarrassed and a lot confused. They did not use that language regularly for communion, and there certainly was not going to be a potluck that day, but when the communion elements were presented you could hear a little voice from the front saying, “Look, Mom! The feast!”
Sometimes children see things more clearly than we do, for this is the feast of God promised by Isaiah for you and me. Likewise, the words of Paul remind us that, since we have been set free from sin and death, we have a different perspective on the world with different opportunities and priorities that are waiting to be revealed.
Revelation is what we get when Jesus is revealed to Mary in John’s gospel. As she approaches the tomb there are no angles. There is not a loud crack as in other stories. The stone has already been rolled away, but all she gets is emptiness. Then Mary ran to tell the other disciples, and there was a weird foot race between Peter and Lazarus. Everybody wins, and everybody loses. There is nothing in the tomb but the linen cloth he was buried in. They go home, but Mary stays weeping in the garden.
Gardens play an interesting role in John’s Gospel. While other gospels tell of Jesus praying in the garden, John has Jesus arrested in a garden. The garden in our story is the place where Jesus died, and yet it is also the place of his resurrection. The gardens of betrayal and violence are replaced with a garden of restoration and hope.
Mary is there, in the garden, weeping. She looked in the tomb and saw two angels, who asked her “Why are you weeping?” As one does, she responds to the angels, “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where.” I imagine there might have been more to this conversation if Jesus had not appeared behind her. We might even ask why the first two didn’t see the angels. We might assume that her grief and her longing to honor and care for Jesus created the space within her that allowed her to see what was real and true.
Jesus again asks her, “Why are you weeping?” Clearly, she wasn’t quite in the space for the real and true because she said, “Sir, tell me where he has been laid, and I will be responsible for him.” He calls her by name and she recognizes him, listens to him, and tells others she has seen him.
According to John, Jesus chose Mary Magdalene, someone who could not even offer testimony on her own behalf in a court of law, as the first witness; the first evangelist; the first one to say, “I have seen the Lord! He is risen. He is risen indeed.”
That’s the story. That’s the “say what?” In order to get to the “So what?” we have to look a little past the story. We have to ask ourselves what gardens we linger in, suffer in, and come to for solace and hope?
Some seek solace in a bottle or other addictive pursuits. Some find themselves consumed by their work. Some even find themselves suffering as they give their time and energy to positive and helpful things, only to become consumed with doing without a connection to the reason behind it all.
Paul’s letter to the church in Colossae reminds us of our reason, our why, our “So What?” when he said, “We have been raised with Christ.” While he is speaking of spiritual truth, I can’t help but think of the change in perspective he describes from a physical viewpoint like flying into a large city at night. Several years ago I remember flying into LA. It was as though the hills were filled with a living fire, and it spread for miles. Not only that, but I was suddenly aware of more than just a power grid. I was aware that every blinking light and every street lamp was a testament to life, and I was as connected to them as I was to the person in the seat next to me.
Years prior I had the same kind of experience with a lit candle in my hand while standing around Lake Susan with over 1,000 youth at a Montreat Youth Conference. Every candle was a soul, beloved by God, and God was in our midst. God was not there because we lit candles and summoned God in some bizarre ritual. No. It was because we were in a space in which we were seeking God.
I could not tell you if even one other person had that same experience, but I know that I did. Truly, that is my hope for every Sunday that we come together, especially when we gather around this table for this feast!
In fact, when people visit – or any time we have a service or activity that is new and different – you might hear me say, “I hope you felt God’s presence today.”
You see, there is one more part of the question of meaning that the text confronts us with today, and I believe it is in Mary’s grief over the missing body of Christ. So often we hear a lament over the loss of rituals and practices and permissions we used to enjoy that made us feel like Jesus was in our midst, yet we have not addressed the inequalities that Christ came to challenge or the role of the church in supporting the systems that need and require reform. So often we lament over the lack of influence of the church in society, yet we have not addressed the pain and suffering caused by unchecked religious authority or the collusion of religious extremists and elected officials. We blame travel sports teams and social media for stealing young families from the church, and yet we want the comfort of a community formed on our terms and meeting our needs.
We cry out, “Where, O where, is the body of Christ that is the church that we know and love?” On Easter Sunday, and every day that we are willing to hear it, Jesus says, “Why are you weeping? I’m right here.”
Friends, I’m here to assure you that the church can still be a garden of hope and restoration, and resurrection! It is the place we may expect to see Jesus in our midst, but it is far from the only place where he is sure to appear. As we share in this feast of God’s abundant love, grace, and mercy, we have this assurance: our true nature is revealed in God’s.
You, beloved of God, were created in the image and likeness of the God of love, grace, and mercy, and “when Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed with him in glory.” The beautiful thing is that Christ is revealed in those times and places that we open ourselves to the presence of God that is already in our midst, and when we do that we become the presence of God one to another.
In fact, I like to think that we are all expressions of God in the way an artist might paint or a musician might compose – except that we get to continue the expression in new and wonderful ways that a piece of art might not. Sometimes I tell people, “I’m really glad you thought them up.” or “What a great idea God had when God thought of you!”
In the same year that God thought of me, 1970, God inspired someone to write a song that asked “Have you seen Jesus, my Lord?” and answered “Have you ever stood in the family (which could also be the church), with the Lord there in your midst. Seen the face of Christ on each other? Then I say... you've seen Jesus, My Lord.
Look around. Go ahead. These are the people with whom you will answer the question, “Now what?” You’ll still need to answer it on your own. You’re still invited and encouraged to seek the presence of God in all places and in all people. We are still being called to reveal the presence of God by holding the powerful accountable – even when that is you and me – and looking for God in the face of the stranger, the alien, and the outcast and welcoming them – just as you are – to this table, again and again, where we proclaim, “I have seen the Lord. He is risen! He is risen indeed.” and to God be the glory for that, now and always. Amen.
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