Resurrection

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“What She Saw” April 20, 2014, Easter/Resurrection of the Lord Reverend Lauren W. Scharstein John 20:1-18

Our gospel lesson for today begins with these words: “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark.” Those words stand out: while it was still dark… while loved ones are still struggling with illnesses that seem to have no cure, while the pain from broken relationships is still fresh and raw, even years later, while old hurts and disappointments continue to resurface, while children around the world and in this community suffer from hunger… while it was still dark Mary came to the tomb where Jesus was laid. She came in the hope of honoring his body, of remembering the life that had been taken from him just two days before. But as she arrives at the tomb, she sees that something even more terrible has happened; the stone has been moved. She runs to get the others, Peter and the beloved disciple. They join her at the tomb, they look inside to see that the body is gone. All that is left are the grave clothes. They assume the worst… he has already been tortured and executed, now they have desecrated his body too. Peter and the beloved disciple can’t take it; they flee back to their homes. It seems like the darkness has won. Michael Lindvall, pastor of the Brick Presbyterian Church in NYC, shares this story about a woman named Ruth. He describes her as a quintessential grandmother type. She is kind and nurturing to all sorts of people in their congregation. He says that he’s never had a conversation with her where she didn’t laugh about something. In fact, she laughed all the time. Ruth was one of those people who made you feel better just by being in her presence. Her pastor admired her greatly, but even more so after he learned her story. Ruth had been married to an avid sailor. Her husband taught their boys to sail, and they knew their way around the family boat by the time they were in middle school. “Their son Phillip had just graduated from college, and he and some buddies took the boat and headed out to sea – out into the Atlantic, off the coast of South Carolina. A storm came out of nowhere; and they never managed to find the boys.” Years later, her pastor asked her about her experience – he said, “Ruth, you are so full of joy now; how did you get over that?” She smiled at him and replied, “mothers don’t get over that. But I learned something when I was in the valley of the shadow. It took me a 1

long time, but I began to see that we all have sadness. Everyone knows the dark night; everyone experiences heartbreak. I know what that is like… every day the sadness is waiting. Just waiting. I don’t know if it will come with the coffee or the paper or if it will speak to me in the grocery store. But every day I pray “God, don’t let the sadness win. Let me push back the sadness, not only in my life, but in the lives of everyone I meet.” I am full of joy, she told him, but it is an act of defiance.1 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary came to the tomb of Jesus. The stone was rolled away; the body was gone; the other disciples have fled. But Mary stayed behind; in an act of grief or perhaps defiance, she refused to leave the last place she encountered Jesus. She will not let fear of the darkness keep her away. Mary stands there weeping, and as she does, she looks into the tomb. This time, she sees two angels dressed in white, and she insists on knowing where the body has been taken. Mary turns again and sees a man she does not recognize. He must be the gardener. Again, she insists defiantly, “if you have taken him, tell me where he is.” His response is one word, “Mary.” In that one life-changing word, all of her hopes, her defiant faithfulness, her refusal to let the darkness win, all are validated. His death, her tears will not be the end of the story. He is alive; morning has broken. During the Christmas season each year, our children present a pageant dressed up as characters from the nativity story. The culmination of the pageant is the last song: “All is Well,” sung by friendly beasts and stars and angels and centurions. That song is itself an act of defiance, like Mary’s refusal to leave without Jesus, like Ruth’s insistence on joy in the face of despair. Everything we see says that it is still dark. But Easter dawns with the promise that all is well, that all will be well because Christ is Risen; death is not the final word for him, and it will not be the final word for us. Morning has indeed broken. Amen.

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Rev. Michael Lindvall shares this story in a sermon titled “Miracles Do Happen” preached at Brick Presbyterian Church on March 31, 2013.

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