There’s a lot happening in today’s scriptures, messages of exorbitant forgiveness, of unqualified peace, of amazing grace, of divine miracle.
I don’t know if you noticed, but in the Gospel passage, there’s also a lot of running that happens.
Physical running – clearly as there is an urgency to the message.
Mary leaves the tomb and runs to Simon Peter and the other disciple: notably, the disciple to whom Jesus entrusted the lifelong care of his mother.
And as she shares the frantic news of an empty tomb – they all run to the tomb; even though they know that it is empty. Vacant.
…and we even get the information about who got there first, as though it were a sports race; and the information about what they saw when they got there.
Mary’s first encounter with the tomb remains entirely on the exterior; she saw that the stone was rolled away – and ran to the disciples.
The disciple who arrived at the tomb first: he merely glanced inside and noted the linen wrappings lying, apart – a significant detail here in John, for a number of reasons: primarily as they meant that the body of Jesus had not been stolen – if it had, the wrappings would not have been there. This was enough for him; he waited at the door. Likely bewildered. Astonished.
Then Simon Peter arrives – slightly breathless, I would imagine –
And he enters the tomb. He is the first to enter the space where the resurrection has taken place – even if he does not fully understand it yet.
And in this closer proximity, he notes that the linen shrouds are lying separate from each other;
those that had enshrouded the body in one place,
and the one that had wrapped the head of the embodied Word of God,
is rolled – scroll-like – neatly by itself.
These were not simply cast off in haste, but intentionally left with an indication of care and intentionality.
I’d imagine Peter made some noise, a gasp of surprised comprehension perhaps, which caught the attention of the other disciple, and drew him into the tomb.
And when he sees the linens as well, we hear that he saw – and believed – and that even though they didn’t fully understand, they went – presumably with less speed – to their homes.
For Mary, the revelation of this amazing moment is even clearer;
for from weeping outside the empty tomb, she looks in,
and is greeted by angels, whose presence and words bring her comfort.
Yet in her grief, she does not recognise the presence of Christ when he stands before her:
clearly, Jesus looks different to her eyes that are filled with sorrowful tears. We all know that the world can appear differently when our hearts are broken.
What a blessing then, for her to be called by name –
as the physical resurrected presence of God stands before her,
willing her to continue to learn how to live the life of faith.
The teacher – Rabbouni - invites her to see the world anew, refreshed;
and to share in the good news –
in the first, and shortest, Easter Sermon, delivered to the disciples.
“I have seen the Lord” she said. And they believed.
So why are all these details so clearly given to us in John’s account of that first Easter morning?
Well, John’s is a mystical Gospel account, telling the people about Jesus in a very intimate, personal manner.
John’s whole Gospel is structured to bring the reader
to a very close relationship with Jesus,
through which we will then respond with faith.
And this is exactly what John does for us today; in this timeless expression of Easter joy.
He shows us the importance of coming to Jesus with haste – the running they all do – that urgent approach to the source of life and light.
He shows us that the closer we come to Jesus, the stronger our faith will grow: like his followers then, as they ventured more deeply into the mystery of the tomb.
He assures us that our belief can be strong – even when we don’t understand. And we are comforted in knowing that it’s okay to not understand.
And he gifts us with the opportunity to preach our own Easter sermon when we have had our awakening: to live our lives proclaiming that we too have seen the Lord.
Because we have:
When we trust in the forgiveness of sins that has been promised us;
we have seen the Lord.
When we see people extend peace and love to each other,
we have seen the Lord.
When a spirit of reconciliation overpowers earthly divisions,
we have seen the Lord.
When we see compassion and care extended to those experiencing need,
we have seen the Lord.
When we see actions of charity prevailing without expectation of anything in return,
we have seen the Lord.
When we are raising prayers for people we love, and people we’ll never even meet,
we have seen the Lord.
When we do our best to journey as brothers and sisters, wishing the best for one another,
We have seen the Lord.
When we recognise the grace upon grace that is being showered down indiscriminately on us all,
we have seen the Lord.
When we look at one another and see a beloved child of God:
we have seen the Lord.
When we do any number of ordinary, unremarkable things, and surround them with love,
We have seen the Lord.
Because the Lord Jesus wants to be seen.
He wants to be part of our lives.
He wants to be known by all we encounter, as we celebrate Easter this day, and every day.
So let us rejoice: for the risen Lord did not come for one time and one place; Christ came for all of us, to bring us the unquenchable joy that comes from the presence of divine love.
The Lord is Risen, my friends.
He is risen indeed, and we have all seen the glory of his resurrection.
So let us then proclaim the joyous Alleluia! In all we do.
Amen.
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