I Have Seen the Lord!
John 20: 1-18
Mary, can’t you see? But she can’t. Mary, don’t you know? But she doesn’t. Mary, can’t you feel it? But she can’t. To her, there was nothing but darkness. That’s all she could see and know and feel. No sun could possible rise on a day like this one. No light would dare to shine on this land, this place, this heart of hers that could do nothing but ache. But she went anyway. She had to. She had to go to his body, the last vessel through which his holy life pulsed. She stumbled through the black of the morning, through the cobbled side streets stained with human betrayal; through the roosters crowing and the cries of her heart…she stumbled through the din of death ringing through her. She wanted to come sooner, but it was the Sabbath and she was faithful. She waited until the sun went down and there was nothing but darkness. Her heart was racing, nearly pounding out of her chest, beads of sweat formed on her forehead as she ran. She ran to the place where he was. She longed to touch him, to anoint him, to sit with him, to sit with what was left of him, to feel even just a piece of what she felt when she was with him. She felt so full, so alive. And she thought that even the sight of what was left of him might be enough. And there was the tomb, the place where his body and her heart would be wrapped together, linen memories of what could never be.
But the tomb was not as it should be, the stone rolled away, no body, no Jesus, no way to say good bye… She couldn’t think; she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t stop; she ran and ran until she found Peter and the other disciple whom Jesus loved. She could barely get it out; barely bring to life the words she never wanted to say, “They have taken away my Lord.” She meant to say that his body was gone, but her words said the truth of her heart. “They have taken away my Lord.” They took away her Lord, her light, her life. She thought that it would be the end for her too.
She was in the dark before him; she was sick and cut off. He brought her to life when he cast demons out of her and healed her. He brought her to life by inviting her to follow to join to seek God with him. He brought her to life when he said her name. She is the only woman besides his mom that is mentioned by name in all four of our Gospels. Mary. Mary. With him she had a name; with him she was somebody, someone whom God loved, whom life loved, someone whose life was as valuable as anyone’s. He was life and love and he was gone.
She didn’t know who she was without him. Now she was just a woman. A nameless woman to the world. A nameless woman with a shattered heart. She had come alive with him. He had quenched her thirsty spirit and fed her weary heart, brought light to the shadowy corners of her soul. Before him, nothing but darkness and now darkness returned.
She was all alone and not even his body was there to comfort her. The two disciples left her there. All that remained was a pile of cloth and a stack of unanswered questions. But she stayed there and cried. She thought that darkness would be her fate; this would be the end of the bright God-filled life he showed her. She thought that there would be no more life and love and light. Even as the sun came up, the world was dark to her.
So imagine her surprise when the voice of angels came to her. “Woman, why are you weeping?” In her mountain of darkness she must have been shocked by the question. Of course she was crying, crying for all that she had lost, all that the world had lost. “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”
Mary, can’t you see? But she can’t. Mary, don’t you know? But she doesn’t. Mary, can’t you feel it? But she can’t. And we wonder why. Why doesn’t she get it? Why can’t she see that he is there? She was stuck in the terror of the cross, stuck in the tomb, looking for him in the Good Friday places. But he was there. He was there, standing there, but she didn’t see him; she didn’t recognize him. She didn’t recognize him because who would? In Mary’s world the Empire rules. No human heart could stand up to Rome, could stand up to the sin stained world and the sting of death. But that is until this day. Today everything is different. Everything she saw and knew and felt no longer applies. He is there. Today death has lost its sting. Today God has said enough. Today divine love is real power.
And then Jesus says her name. Mary. Mariva (Maria) “Rebellion” in Hebrew. Mary, who had been in the dark before him and sat in the darkness after him. Mary, when he said her name, he freed her. Mary from his lips meant beloved of God, child of the light. When he said her name, she knew it was him.
And she jumps to him; she grabs him and tries to hold him. She thought that’s what this was about. She thought that he was here again for her, for all of them to be with him, to surround him, to hold onto him. But he says that she can’t. Things can never be the same. Everything she saw and knew and felt no longer applies. “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father.” But that’s all she wants to do is hold onto him. She wants to keep the light, to contain him and follow him and love God with him. But her Good Friday hands want to hang on tight, gripping him so this can never happen again. But, “the only thing we cannot do is hold on to him.” Today everything is different. We cannot hold onto him. We cannot keep our Jesus and try to keep things as they are. He says to us, can’t you see? Don’t you know? Can’t you feel it? Today everything is different. We can’t help but to be changed. Today is the first day of a new beginning, the first day of letting go and letting God. Jesus tells us that we cannot grab him and pull him to where we are, instead on this day, on this Easter day, we must let him grab us and take us where he is going…
It took her a while. It took us a while. The darkness was too dark for us to see. But when Mary finally saw him, when we finally see him, on this holy morning, our eyes are opened to God’s steadfast love. When Mary saw him, she knew that the life he gave her could never be taken away. When she saw that it was him, she felt in her heart she was somebody, that she was God’s beloved, no exceptions. Today everything is different. She knew that she didn’t need his physical body; she had what she needed to follow, we have what we need to follow him, to receive life abundant. When we proclaim, “I have seen the Lord,” we join Mary. Today everything is different. We have tasted light and life and there is no turning back, we want him to take us where he is going. “I have seen the Lord!” Thanks be to God. Amen.