John 20: 11-18
In the gospel of John, Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb in the early morning, alone. The stone is missing so she runs to get the others—Peter and John come running. John arrives first but hesitates outside the tomb. Peter rushes in. They didn’t understand exactly what had happened at this point… and they went home wondering, with a glimmer of belief… but Mary stayed there at the tomb, weeping. She bent in to look again, and saw angels through her tears. “Why are you crying?” they ask. But she doesn’t wait to hear their answer. Maybe in her distress, she is still searching for the lost body of Jesus… or maybe she saw some look of recognition in their faces…and turns… Mary turns and there he is
but she doesn’t recognize him. She assumes the person standing there is the gardener.
but she doesn’t recognize him. She assumes the person standing there is the gardener.
Jesus the Gardener (on this Easter & eve of Earth Day)… I imagine Jesus bent down with dirt under his fingernails, planting seeds, watering tender plants… Well, what would youdo first if you were raised from the dead? “Oh, you know… a little gardening.” Like God the creator in the first garden, Jesus—who has been with God from the very beginning—the risen Christ is tending a garden when Mary turns toward him.
And then we get to look on knowingly in this story, we know it’s Jesus while Mary figures it out.
“Why are you crying?” Jesus asks, and once more she tries to find her lost Beloved One.
Jesus says her name, and Mary recognizes her Lord—alive!
As unbelievable as it was, somehow she knew it was true.
Resurrection is like that. When we have resurrection stories, we usually start kind of like this… “Now, don’t think I’m crazy but…” And then we tell our story of life coming right out of near-death, or actual death.
When we’re in the middle of times of betrayal, suffering and death, when we’re in trauma or grief-filled waiting, it’s hard to hold on to hope of resurrection.
When we are able to hold onto hope even through the worst times, it’s a gift.
Like Jesus who on maybe the most disappointing night of his life created a meal for us to share every time we gather where we remember and experience Christ’s living presence in the ordinary things—bread, gluten free wafer, juice, wine—ordinary things, and the words “for you,” and in everybody who receives those gifts.
When we are able to hold onto hope even through the worst times, it’s a gift.
Like Jesus who from the cross as he was dying forgave strangers and promised paradise to criminals. Who from the cross created family between his mother and the disciple he loved, making sure they would care for one another when he was gone, so that when it was all finished they would able to be a blessing as family, to family that would one day extend all the way to us.
When we are able to hold onto hope even through the worst times, it’s a gift.
When we’re waiting, because we reached over and felt our loved one was cold as stone. When we feel like we’re in a tomb because everything we own is disrupted, or our relationships are strained, or we’re facing challenges that are completely overwhelming but we’re trying to move forward into new visions into a new day…
Holding on to hope for spring through snowfalls in April, with our chalk in hand, our bubbles to blow, our seeds ready for planting… this is all gift. Right now, we wait, but in time, we’ll be looking back at the waiting time, remembering how resurrection was both happening and on its way all that time, already and not yet. It was just hard to wait.
Mary’s gift was holding onto hope of finding Jesus’ body, just as tenaciously as she stood by through his ministry, even when he went to Jerusalem, even at the crucifixion. Once she realized Jesus was alive, she was prepared to hold onto him and never let him go again… but in this moment in his journey, raised from the dead but not yet ascended, Jesus points her forward. Your gifts of hope, love, and telling the story can’t be contained right here—I need you to bring these gifts to my disciples, hovering in fear and disbelief.
Now, here in the garden, Jesus points out to Mary that he is no longer God’s Only Son… now, they are all God’s children. They are invited to have the same close relationship with God, kinship with each other, closeness with God’s purpose. They are asked to replicate Jesus’ relationship with God far beyond what they could have ever imagined.
So, what about for us? Today the apostle Mary comes to us and says, “I have seen the Lord! I thought it was the gardener, but when I heard my name, I knew Christ was alive! And listen to this—he said something so much like his ancestor Ruth. She said, “Your people will be my people, and your God, my God.” (Ruth 1:16). Jesus said to go to Galilee—our home territory—where he will ascend ‘to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”
I can only imagine that once she delivered the message, she traveled on… back to Galilee, to her synagogue in Magdala (5 kilometers from Tiberias) to share the news of love and deep joy.
And I can only imagine that this is what God hopes we might do today… like Mary of Magdala shared the news of love and deep joy, that whatever our circumstances, the risen Beloved One calls our names and invites us not to hold on tightly to the source of love so much as spread it, break up evil from the inside with unfathomable love.
Maybe you’ve read or watched the film version of A Wrinkle in Time—it came to theaters about a year ago—based on the science fiction novel by Madeleine L'Engle (first published in 1962). At one point, a wise character says about the uncertain 14-year-old main character, “I think we need to tell her something, I think we need to show her why this is so important…” and then they begin to show a greater reality to Meg than she could have ever discerned on her own. They’re involved in a cosmic struggle between forces of hate and forces of love, and they ask her to use all her faults…
and the gifts she doesn’t really know she has yet in this cosmic struggle. She learns that finally those who are different, who have had wounds, who have doubts and struggles, but who practice deep love-in-action—these are the very gifts that are needed most.
and the gifts she doesn’t really know she has yet in this cosmic struggle. She learns that finally those who are different, who have had wounds, who have doubts and struggles, but who practice deep love-in-action—these are the very gifts that are needed most.
Madeleine L’Engle’s vision was very shaped by the gospel of John—who also saw the influence of Christ as cosmic, and the need for knowing our belovedness to God as critical for this time, for every time.
But just in case we get to mystical, too out-of-body, too big, John also places the risen Christ firmly on the earth—gardening—and later on he’ll breathe on them and invite them to touch his wounds. They’ll cook and eat roasted fish together at the lakeshore. It’s all very down-to-earth. You’re invited to take this down-to-earth love to a family gathering today or to the next place you encounter a stranger. You’re invited to practice it as you share a ride, give an offering, sing and pray. As you finally plant your spring seeds!
Christ is alive and is already at work—making all things new—tending roots and branches, with buds that will become leaves and fruit.
Christ is alive and is already at work—making all things new—tending roots and branches, with buds that will become leaves and fruit.
Yes, this is all for you.
Alleluia! Christ is risen. Christ is risen indeed. Alleluia!
