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John 20:1-19 It is in the Deep Darkness that Resurrection Occurs

Filed under: Pastor Jeff's Sermons — Pastor Jeff at 10:15 pm on Sunday, April 16, 2017

Jeff and Good NewsA sermon preached on April 16, 2017 – Easter Sunday – based upon John 20:1-19.

In the account of the first Easter that you just heard from John’s Gospel, there are three disciples who come to the tomb in the morning.  Mary Magdalene (and yes, Mary Magdalene was a disciple), Peter, and an unnamed third disciple, quote, “the one whom Jesus loved.”

I must admit, I find “the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved,” a little irritating. Didn’t Jesus love all his disciples?  Of course he did.

John’s Gospel is a truly profound witness to the good news, but even so, there is this favoritism that crops up from time to time regarding the so-called “beloved disciple”.  The reason — which the Gospel writer won’t come right out and say — is that the beloved disciple is John, and this Gospel arose out of the church associated with the Apostle John.  So there is a little PR work mixed in here, as in “we got the best Apostle around!”

This disciple can’t seem to do anything wrong.  He is there at the cross comforting Jesus’ mom when all the other male disciples have fled. In the story you just heard, this disciple comes running with Peter to check out the report of Mary – that the tomb is empty and Jesus’ body is gone — and of course we hear that this guy is a faster runner than Peter, so he gets to the tomb first.   Apparently he is younger than Peter and, out of respect for his elder – even his manners are impeccable! – he doesn’t enter, waiting instead for the older Peter to have the honor of being the first to enter.

Peter goes inside and John tells us what he saw.  Jesus’ body isn’t there, but the grave clothes in which Jesus had been wrapped are, and the cloth that had covered his head is rolled up nicely and placed apart from the rest of the grave clothes.  Peter sees all this but it doesn’t seem to mean anything to him.

The other disciple who is not only Jesus’ favorite and a better runner than Peter (and probably better looking too) apparently is also a better Sherlock Holmes.  He takes one glance at the supposed crime scene and recognizes something odd.  If someone stole the body, why would they go to the trouble of leaving behind the grave clothes?  And why would they bother to roll the head cover up so nicely?

John tells us that this is all it takes for the “other” disciple to “believe.” We aren’t told exactly what he believes, but the impression we’re left with is that the first flowers of faith have begun popping up in the fertile soil of his heart.

Apparently he’s not just Jesus’ favorite – younger, faster, and smarter — but faith comes more easily to him as well.  It’s like he’s the teacher’s pet or something.  He can do no wrong.

There are some of you here today for whom faith comes easily.  You’ve never really been plagued by doubts.  In life, you naturally see the cup half full.  You wake up each morning sensing the presence of God.  You manage to keep on the sunny-side, always on the sunny-side of life, even when it’s cloudy out.

Who knows, you might even be a fast runner.

We are very blessed to have you, because you make this church a lot brighter.

So maybe John is the guy you identify with in the story.

But I am personally grateful that the Gospel writer ultimately takes a lot more time with the other two characters, in large part because faith doesn’t come so easily for them.

There’s old Peter. Frankly, I identify more with Peter.   His frailty is familiar to me. (Earlier this week I had to do a little running in the first Old Guy Softball Game of the season and my legs hurt for three days afterwards.)

Peter’s far from perfect.  He’s so determined that he won’t desert Jesus, but he ends up doing so anyway, denying him three times when fear floods his heart.  (When Jesus got arrested, the “disciple who Jesus loved” fled just like all the rest of the male disciples, but we don’t get fair and balanced reporting on this particular fact.)

Peter has regrets. He knows the voice of self-condemnation.   Unlike, “the beloved disciple,” faith doesn’t seem to come so easily for Peter. We find him later that day in the very same upper room where Jesus had told him he would in fact deny him three times before that terrible night was through.  He’s huddled together with other male disciples, linked together not by a common faith but by mutual fear and self-condemnation, hiding behind locked doors.

We’ll return to Peter and the others in a little while, but first let’s consider the third character, Mary Magdalene.  She’s really the central character in this morning’s story (well, other than Jesus of course.) The Gospel takes some time and care in telling her Easter morning story.

The story begins, “Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb.” The other Gospels that tell the story have it begin as the first daylight breaks, but here the story begins in darkness, both literally and symbolically.

The other Gospels have Mary accompanied by other women; here, though she is all alone – again both literally and symbolically.  So alone – in such deep darkness.

And unlike the other Gospels where the women have come to the tomb with a job to do – to anoint the body of Jesus – here Mary seems to be just wandering around in the darkness, just trying to get close to Jesus’ lifeless body.

So Mary somehow arrives at the tomb and all she can really see in the dark is that the big stone that had sealed the tomb shut has been rolled away.  You and I know that this is in fact the first sign of the good news – but for Mary the conclusion she quickly draws is that this even more bad news.  Somebody has stolen Jesus’ body! – just another sign of the cruelty and callousness of this world.

Mary runs to tell the male disciples, which brings Peter and John running, with Mary in a daze, trailing behind.  The sun is up by the time they reach the tomb.  Peter and John go inside to investigate, after which they depart.

Mary is left there outside the tomb, lost, alone, crying — like an abandoned pup sticking close to the last place she saw her master.

For the first time Mary bends down to look inside.  And what does she see?  Two angels sitting there, where once Jesus’ body lay.  You might think that seeing angels would trigger a spark of wonder, at least some tiny bit of hope.

But the sight doesn’t penetrate the darkness at all.

To Mary, it’s like she’s arrived too late to the hospital room of her loved one, and her beloved, having already died — has been taken away — down into the bowels of the hospital, to a morgue somewhere, and the angels are to her nothing more than a couple of hospital orderlies changing the bed sheets.  She is fixated on the hard truth she thinks she knows, and in response to their question of why she is crying, she answers, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

She turns around.  There’s a man standing there.   Again you and I know it’s Jesus.  Shouldn’t this be the moment that the light breaks into the darkness?  He’s standing right there in front of her.

But Mary can’t recognize him, and her weeping does not abate.  She thinks he must be the gardener.  Jesus speaks to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? For whom are you looking?”

Mary knows the sound of Jesus’ voice – she’s heard it many, many times before — shouldn’t this be enough to awaken her from the horrible nightmare she’s living?  No, it isn’t.  The dark abyss is just too deep.

Mary wants this stranger to give her directions to the morgue: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.”

This is crazy talk.  Even if she could manage to locate the lifeless body of her Lord, does she think she is going to carry him away, all by herself?  And to where, exactly?

John has conjured up a seriously deep darkness — one Mary on her own is helpless to penetrate.

Finally the one word is spoken that breaks through the darkness.  Jesus calls her by name, “Mary!” and in hearing her name spoken by the one who loves her more than any other, Mary steps from death to life.  “Rabbouni!” she cries, claiming her identity as a disciple of the Lord.

Jesus says to her, ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” ’ And so Mary runs off the proclaim the glad tidings, ‘I have seen the Lord!”

Mary, of all people, the one who had dwelt in such deep darkness becomes the first witness to the light of the resurrection – the first to testify the Good News – that Jesus and his love are more powerful that the powers of death and destruction.

It is with Mary that some of us here this morning will most readily identify with in the story.   You have known the deep darkness.  You’ve been there, maybe you’re there now.  This story is for you.

Curiously, it is when darkness returns later that evening, “on the first day of the week”, when Peter and other terrified disciples are huddled behind locked doors in darkness, that Jesus once more appears.  The locked doors can’t hold him out.  Suddenly he stands in the midst of them, saying, “Peace be with you.”

If we find ourselves at times walled in helplessly by a fear and despair we can’t escape, this story is for us.  It speaks of the power of God’s love to come to us in those places we feel powerless to escape.

Unlike our human love, God’s love can get to places we sometimes can’t reach — through locked doors and closed hearts, breathing peace and new life into frightened, paralyzed persons.

But here in the bright light of day – this beautiful Easter morning – let me say a good word about darkness.

We often overlook the fact that in all the Gospel accounts, the actual event is never described, by which I mean the resurrection itself.  We aren’t told of that moment when miraculously, Jesus’ dead body suddenly was filled once more with life – a life that cannot die.  It happens, unseen in the darkness of that tomb.

Consider some other places of darkness where mysteries of creation take place:

*the chrysalis, where the caterpillar retreats into darkness to be transformed into the beauty of a butterfly.

*a seed buried in the earth — one of Jesus’ favorite images – unseen in the darkness, where mysteriously it breaks open to sprout with the beginnings of a great harvest.

*the darkness of a womb – the place where each of us here today slowly grew towards that moment of our birth.

And consider the very first sentence of the Bible describing the first day of the week of creation itself – a sentence the Gospel writer intends to call to mind with his story of resurrection:

“In the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep.”

The first Creation came forth from darkness, and so does the new creation that is Easter morning.

So if you happen to find yourself in a time of darkness — take heart.  Christ has risen!  God is with you.  Darkness is where God gives birth to new life.

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