TUMC Easter Sermon 2011
I begin with the line of a hymn –
Christ the Lord is Risen Today – Alleluia
Our Easter hymns record the witness of the first apostles as well as the witness of many others who have encountered the Risen Christ in one way or another throughout the ages.
In keeping with our recent practice of sharing the Gospel story of the day by heart, I will share with you now the story of one of the first encounters with the Risen Christ.
From John 20:1-18,
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb….
…. And Mary Magdalene ran and proclaimed to the disciples, I have seen the Lord and she told them all the things that he said to her.
If we start at the beginning of this Easter story, we must recall at least briefly the events of Good Friday so powerfully portrayed for us at our Good Friday services.
If I were to understate the magnitude and impact of the events of that first Holy Week that culminated with Jesus’ crucifixion, I would say that things did not turn out as the disciples had prayed they would. The supper was less than celebratory when Jesus told them someone from among them would betray him. The agony of Jesus’ prayer in the Garden was beyond their comprehension and physical stamina – they could not even stay awake. Then as things began to unravel with the arrest and trial of Jesus, the male disciples flee and the women disciples stay, but all see nothing but the relentless victory of death. Neither the men nor women are special here. No one is able to stop the forces of darkness that prevail on that day. An innocent man dies a tortured death at the fear-filled and outraged hands of religious and political authorities and a compliant mob. The world could not bear the power of Jesus’ goodness.
And so early on the first day of the week, in the dark because she probably hasn’t slept anyway, Mary goes to the tomb – to be near her beloved and he’s gone. There is now not even a body – only darkness and negative space where the body had once been.
As you may know, “negative space” is an important artistic term. I read the following definition this week:
Negative space isn’t the place your mind retreats to when a painting isn’t going well. Negative space is the space between objects or parts of an object, or around it. Studying this can have a surprisingly positive effect on a painting The classic example of negative space or shapes is the brain-teaser where depending on how you look you see either a vase or two faces …. It becomes very evident when the image is reversed i
In story as in art – various interpretations are possible for negative space.
In this story – the first thing to fill the negative space created by the absence of Jesus’ body – for Mary anyway – is a deepening of her despair. Her mind and heart are so clouded by her grief and despair that no other interpretation is possible.
“They’ve taken away his body and we don’t know where they’ve laid it,” is her anguished cry no less than three times in this passage.
For Peter and the other disciple – the absence of the body creates wonder, but apparently also confusion – for they did not yet understand the scripture that said he must be raised.
This examination of empty space where the body is no longer has caused me to wonder …
What about the empty spaces in our own lives created by the unexpected places we find ourselves. Sometimes these empty spaces are created by losses too profound to name or nearly unutterable. These are the spaces created by things beyond our control – like illness, death and natural disasters.
But what about the spaces in our lives created by the things over which we have some control.
Sometimes these spaces are the places where we recognize that we are also complicit in the death of our Lord. We realize that we are also complicit in Jesus’ death when we identify with the characters in the gospel story. When we face the cross on Good Friday through the experience of the first disciples, our own humanity like theirs is revealed for what it is:
sometimes petty; “then wash my hands and face also,” says Peter,
sometimes violent; when one of the disciples cuts off the slave’s ear in an attempt to prevent Jesus’ arrest,
sometimes cowardly; “I never knew this man,” Peter says, just before the cock crows,
sometimes overcome by the powers of evil and darkness; as was Judas when he betrayed Jesus with a kiss,
sometimes simply blinded by grief and despair, as was Mary at the empty tomb.
We canno
t escape knowing somewhere deep within that we might have been capable of any of these actions.
I came across a picture in the Toronto Star this weekend that exemplified for me that space between humanity and the cross.
For me it’s a disturbing picture of three people posing for a picture after a passion procession through the stages of the cross. Rob Ford happens to be in the middle of this picture (but it could have been anyone) with a huge smile on his face with his arms around two actors; a bleeding Christ on his left and a Roman soldier on his right. Together John and I considered what was so disturbing about this picture. It is tragic-comic in a way. There’s a profound sense in which each person in this picture doesn’t really understand the nature of the story that is being portrayed. The apparent levity shown by all three as they pose for the picture sort of gives away that at the moment they are without understanding. And before we become too judgmental let’s be aware that there are lots of moments when none of us truly understands the depths of the meaning of the cross. As we looked at the picture John and I tried to imagine what the real Christ would say to these three. First, we imagined, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do,” and second we imagined Jesus saying to them, “but follow me and be my disciples.”
I think what was maybe most disturbing of all is that in some small way this picture could also represent any one of us.
The space between God and humanity at the foot of the cross is a space that has been blown wide-open by the reality of who God is on the one hand and who we often are on the other, persons with unclean hands and unknowing hearts in need of forgiveness.
Granted we are persons created good in the very image of God, but there is not one of us with entirely clean hands – who does not need the forgiveness of God.
The Light of who Jesus was and is revealed the dark shadow of the worst of which humanity is capable when the power of darkness as it acts through humanity puts him to death.
It takes courage to face the empty space created by this thought. As with facing our own mortality, facing that empty space in our lives and in the world is not for the faint of heart.
In our gospel text for today, Mary demonstrated that courage. Mary stayed at the empty tomb weeping. With courage she looked again at the place where Jesus’ body had lain.
And this time the absence of the body became the place for hidden hope. Two messengers of God encourage her with a question, “why are you weeping?”
In the space created by absence other things now have room to suggest themselves. Potential is born.
And after one more protest, Mary turns and sees Jesus standing there, but she doesn’t know that it’s Jesus until he says her name.
And she responds Rabbonai (teacher).
In that moment of encounter with the Risen and Living Christ,
The potential in the space has become
despair turned to hope,
tears of sadness turned into tears of joy
and doubt turned into belief.
This is Easter Sunday morning – the moment when we realize that the space between God and humanity has been filled by the power of God that raised Jesus to life and assures us that even our complicity with the powers that put him to death in the first place can be forgiven.
As one author puts it,
“The places that we knew were empty of hope are filled with divine presence, and the world as a whole has been remade new. [Like Mary] we go to the garden looking only to be near our lost beloved, and find ourselves embraced by Love itself.”ii
And as I prepared this sermon this week, I asked myself what is it that I long to share with you, the congregation of God’s people, this morning. The answer? I long for each of you to have regular encounters with the Living One who fills the empty or negative spaces of despair, or grief or guilt or skepticism with Divine presence.
In the words of the same author above, “Love in its incredible tenacity and mysterious appearances walks with us in our grief and skepticism. Only in [the] light [of this Love] from birth to death do we begin to understand the ranges of existence seen and unseen.”
Let me repeat. “Love in its incredible tenacity and mysterious appearances walks with us in our grief and skepticism. Only in the light of this Love from birth to death do we begin to understand the ranges of existence seen and unseen.”
Think for a moment of where tenacious love has made a mysterious appearance in your life – particularly during a moment where you least expected it.
This appearance of mysterious love is an Easter moment. As you were embraced by this Love were you able to respond as Mary did with an embrace and the word Teacher? May it be so!
But also like Mary, we are not allowed to cling to these moments. Jesus sent Mary to his brothers to proclaim that she had seen the Lord and so God also commissions us to take these moments of Easter Joy and Peace and fulfillment and share them with others proclaiming that we too have seen the Lord.
I wish to conclude my sermon this morning by inviting you to sing #278 in our Hymnal a Worship Book – Christ is alive.
i Internet definition of negative space
ii featured essay for April 17th “Ours the Cross the Grave the Skies” by Rebecca Lyman http://www.journeywithjesus.net/Essays/index.shtml