Weeping Outside the Tomb
Sunday, April 8th, 2007
Easter
Jerusalem Baptist Church, Emmerton VA
John 20:1-18
For some strange reason, there is a rule written somewhere in the performance guidelines for early and middle childhood that requires children between the ages of about 4 and 10 to be all over the map on how easily they get up on any given morning except for Saturdays. Saturdays is the ONE day in which they have absolutely NO problem jumping out of bed wide awake the moment they first open their eyes.
I used to think there had to be some correlation with what Saturday morning cartoon was on. I remember waking up and being all excited about loony tunes – bug bunny, the roadrunner, those characters. But I’m not so sure any more.
Hannah, for better or worse, takes after me in this regard – she LIKES to sleep. Enough said.
Judson can be quick to wake or not. He goes back and forth.
Caleb is the one that holds to the rule. Weekdays, he seems to be a little difficult to get out of bed, but, come Saturday, he’s Johnny on the spot and ready to go at 6:30 in the morning.
Yesterday was no different in THAT regard. We heard him come to the top of the stairs from the basement, walk down the hall, slip into Judson’s room to make his first attempt to wake HIM up, and then pad over to the bathroom.
The shades in Judson’s room were drawn down. The shade in the bathroom was up. There was a momentary pause, and then we could hear Caleb’s voice, with rising excitement “OH MY GOODNESS!! OH MY GOODNESS!!!
Of course, he ran into our bedroom to let us know that there were 3 inches of snow on the ground, that the trees were loaded down with snow, and could he go out to play in it?
Snow is one thing that ALL the kids get excited about. We do too, usually. It’s a nice thing to happen. In WINTER.
Not that it’s a BAD thing, don’t get me wrong. But it is what you expect some of in December, then some in January and February, MAYBE a little bit in March, but by the time the season changes, you pretty much EXPECT things to gradually but more or less consistently, start to warm up.
As we looked out the window in wonder at the mounds of snow that had fallen, our thoughts were not only on the beauty of the scene, but also on the events scheduled for the day. Leslie was officiating a wedding for some friends. The CATCH was, it was going to be at Belle Isle State Park, on the grounds of the Mansion there, on the banks of the Rappahannock river; OUTDOORS.
The prospect of slogging through snow and sitting or standing in what would certainly be a blowing wind off the river was a little daunting … but it was something that, oddly enough, we were prepared to get through to see the couple married.
As the day warmed up, we could tell that a lot of the snow was going to be gone by the time the wedding ceremony was to take place. And it was, at least, the area where we were going to be sitting and standing. The trickier part was trying to dodge the falling snow that was being blown off the trees that were up closer to the house, where the dance floor and the music and the food was being served.
So the wind would gust, and you might here an occasional scream as some snow found its way down someone’s neck, and occasionally the dining tent would sound like it was being pelted with a truckload of pebbles.
The day was memorable not only for the importance of the vows that were exchanged, and the setting, but for the simple fact that the weather played a trick on us. Yesterday the kids were flying kites in the backyard and playing in the dirt, today they were having snowball fights with the sisters of the bride. Go figure.
There was a moment before the wedding, when the DJ was playing the music pretty loudly, and we could hear the friends of the couple already getting into “party mode”, chatting – and chattering – and carrying on, trying to have a good time in spite of the cold, when we were commenting on the fact that it was Holy Saturday. We had learned earlier this year that our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters do not hold weddings during the season of Lent, and as we have become more observant of the church calendar, AND the season of Lent and what it entails – the reflection, the sobriety, the introspection leading up to the passion week – and yes, Today – Easter – it is a jarring incongruity to hold such a celebration of LIFE as a wedding IS in the midst of a time of … solemnity, of self-denial, of remembering the suffering and death of Christ, of self-abnegation – practicing delayed gratification, so to speak, until today’s sun rises.
While I was watching the afternoon progress, I realized that this was probably not terribly different from what was going on in Jerusalem almost two thousand years ago. The Sabbath was over by sunset on Saturday, so people went about their business once the sun came up on Sunday. There was work to be done, business to be conducted, forms to fill out, places to be, people to talk to … in short, the whole range of activities that are entailed in normal daily living. There might’ve been some conversation around the weekend’s events – that triple crucifixion that wrapped up before sunset on Friday was sad, of course, but it was a necessary evil. It certainly wasn’t going to affect how the rest of the week went. If we let THAT happen, we’d spend all our days wailing and gnashing our teeth for those who may have been unjustly executed. It’s a tough world. Get used to it.
And then the rumors began to circulate. One of the men, who’d been dead and buried by Friday evening wasn’t where they’d left him this morning. Odd, yes, but not really … unHEARD of … people were robbing tombs all the time. Especially if you were dead and wealthy … what? You say this man was only buried with the burial shroud and nothing else? Why would anyone want to break into his tomb and steal him away then?
Then we get the rest of the story. The women who had come to prepare his body – to wrap it better, surround it with fragrant herbs to offset the smell of decaying flesh while they waited for the body to get to the point where the bones could be buried … Mary Magdalene was her name … she’s telling the story that she was sitting outside the tomb crying and leaned down to look inside, and to her amazement there were two angels sitting in the tomb, where the man, Jesus was his name, where his head and feet were. And they supposedly told her he was not there. Asked her why she was crying. When she tried to answer that they where they were SITTING was the reason she was crying, she turned to find someone behind her.
You know how it is when you run into someone you know in an unexpected place? Well, that seems to be what happened to Mary Magdalene.
You see, it was Jesus behind her. I imagine she just cut a quick glance at him at first, what with two angels sitting in the tomb in front of her, I imagine her mind was trying to adjust to THAT idea before jumping on to the next reality-defying concept.
But she recognized him when he called her name.
She was crying outside the tomb. She was still in shock from the events on Thursday and Friday. Still reeling from seeing Jesus hanging on the cross, bleeding and beaten, crying out to God in heaven asking why had he been forsaken. Still adjusting to the idea that Jesus was gone from her life forever.
And God surprised her like an April snowfall.
Jesus was there. Alive. Talking. Breathing. Calling her by name.
Jerusalem was carrying on just around the bend as though nothing had happened … well, maybe not quite NOTHING … but nothing to get all worked up about …
Or should we?
The tomb was empty. Nobody came up with the body. Nobody except the women who went to the tomb – and THAT wasn’t the DEAD body, but the risen Lord.
We live today in the knowledge that Christ rose from the dead and lives even today – James Cameron notwithstanding.
We live today in the victory that Jesus held over the grave.
Or do we?
Do we live as though there really IS something beyond the grave, or do we live weeping outside the tomb, seeing in it the end of all that we strive for, the cessation of existence, the ultimate end of all our earthly struggles?
How empowered would we be to stop weeping outside the tomb and move THROUGH the tomb WITH Christ, and jump into new ways of doing church, new ways of BEING church, of reaching out and welcoming the otherwise unwelcome, those who live on the edges of society, those outcasts who Christ welcomed as he did Zaccheus, the woman caught in adultery, or the woman at the well?
We have before us a table set with bread and juice, reminders of the body and blood of Christ… reminders of the sacrifice HE offered in our place. His standing invitation is to take the bread and eat it, take the juice and drink it – but to remember that in so doing, we are proclaiming HIS death until he comes – BACK. That’s not a small thing we do. Because in sharing the bread and the cup we are proclaiming that we DO, in fact, live BEYOND the grave.
(Communion)
Let’s pray.
Easter
Jerusalem Baptist Church, Emmerton VA
John 20:1-18
1 Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. 2So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” 3Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. 4The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, 7and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. 8Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; 9for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10Then the disciples returned to their homes. 11But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; 12and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. 13They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 14When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said 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.’” 18Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
For some strange reason, there is a rule written somewhere in the performance guidelines for early and middle childhood that requires children between the ages of about 4 and 10 to be all over the map on how easily they get up on any given morning except for Saturdays. Saturdays is the ONE day in which they have absolutely NO problem jumping out of bed wide awake the moment they first open their eyes.
I used to think there had to be some correlation with what Saturday morning cartoon was on. I remember waking up and being all excited about loony tunes – bug bunny, the roadrunner, those characters. But I’m not so sure any more.
Hannah, for better or worse, takes after me in this regard – she LIKES to sleep. Enough said.
Judson can be quick to wake or not. He goes back and forth.
Caleb is the one that holds to the rule. Weekdays, he seems to be a little difficult to get out of bed, but, come Saturday, he’s Johnny on the spot and ready to go at 6:30 in the morning.
Yesterday was no different in THAT regard. We heard him come to the top of the stairs from the basement, walk down the hall, slip into Judson’s room to make his first attempt to wake HIM up, and then pad over to the bathroom.
The shades in Judson’s room were drawn down. The shade in the bathroom was up. There was a momentary pause, and then we could hear Caleb’s voice, with rising excitement “OH MY GOODNESS!! OH MY GOODNESS!!!
Of course, he ran into our bedroom to let us know that there were 3 inches of snow on the ground, that the trees were loaded down with snow, and could he go out to play in it?
Snow is one thing that ALL the kids get excited about. We do too, usually. It’s a nice thing to happen. In WINTER.
Not that it’s a BAD thing, don’t get me wrong. But it is what you expect some of in December, then some in January and February, MAYBE a little bit in March, but by the time the season changes, you pretty much EXPECT things to gradually but more or less consistently, start to warm up.
As we looked out the window in wonder at the mounds of snow that had fallen, our thoughts were not only on the beauty of the scene, but also on the events scheduled for the day. Leslie was officiating a wedding for some friends. The CATCH was, it was going to be at Belle Isle State Park, on the grounds of the Mansion there, on the banks of the Rappahannock river; OUTDOORS.
The prospect of slogging through snow and sitting or standing in what would certainly be a blowing wind off the river was a little daunting … but it was something that, oddly enough, we were prepared to get through to see the couple married.
As the day warmed up, we could tell that a lot of the snow was going to be gone by the time the wedding ceremony was to take place. And it was, at least, the area where we were going to be sitting and standing. The trickier part was trying to dodge the falling snow that was being blown off the trees that were up closer to the house, where the dance floor and the music and the food was being served.
So the wind would gust, and you might here an occasional scream as some snow found its way down someone’s neck, and occasionally the dining tent would sound like it was being pelted with a truckload of pebbles.
The day was memorable not only for the importance of the vows that were exchanged, and the setting, but for the simple fact that the weather played a trick on us. Yesterday the kids were flying kites in the backyard and playing in the dirt, today they were having snowball fights with the sisters of the bride. Go figure.
There was a moment before the wedding, when the DJ was playing the music pretty loudly, and we could hear the friends of the couple already getting into “party mode”, chatting – and chattering – and carrying on, trying to have a good time in spite of the cold, when we were commenting on the fact that it was Holy Saturday. We had learned earlier this year that our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters do not hold weddings during the season of Lent, and as we have become more observant of the church calendar, AND the season of Lent and what it entails – the reflection, the sobriety, the introspection leading up to the passion week – and yes, Today – Easter – it is a jarring incongruity to hold such a celebration of LIFE as a wedding IS in the midst of a time of … solemnity, of self-denial, of remembering the suffering and death of Christ, of self-abnegation – practicing delayed gratification, so to speak, until today’s sun rises.
While I was watching the afternoon progress, I realized that this was probably not terribly different from what was going on in Jerusalem almost two thousand years ago. The Sabbath was over by sunset on Saturday, so people went about their business once the sun came up on Sunday. There was work to be done, business to be conducted, forms to fill out, places to be, people to talk to … in short, the whole range of activities that are entailed in normal daily living. There might’ve been some conversation around the weekend’s events – that triple crucifixion that wrapped up before sunset on Friday was sad, of course, but it was a necessary evil. It certainly wasn’t going to affect how the rest of the week went. If we let THAT happen, we’d spend all our days wailing and gnashing our teeth for those who may have been unjustly executed. It’s a tough world. Get used to it.
And then the rumors began to circulate. One of the men, who’d been dead and buried by Friday evening wasn’t where they’d left him this morning. Odd, yes, but not really … unHEARD of … people were robbing tombs all the time. Especially if you were dead and wealthy … what? You say this man was only buried with the burial shroud and nothing else? Why would anyone want to break into his tomb and steal him away then?
Then we get the rest of the story. The women who had come to prepare his body – to wrap it better, surround it with fragrant herbs to offset the smell of decaying flesh while they waited for the body to get to the point where the bones could be buried … Mary Magdalene was her name … she’s telling the story that she was sitting outside the tomb crying and leaned down to look inside, and to her amazement there were two angels sitting in the tomb, where the man, Jesus was his name, where his head and feet were. And they supposedly told her he was not there. Asked her why she was crying. When she tried to answer that they where they were SITTING was the reason she was crying, she turned to find someone behind her.
You know how it is when you run into someone you know in an unexpected place? Well, that seems to be what happened to Mary Magdalene.
You see, it was Jesus behind her. I imagine she just cut a quick glance at him at first, what with two angels sitting in the tomb in front of her, I imagine her mind was trying to adjust to THAT idea before jumping on to the next reality-defying concept.
But she recognized him when he called her name.
She was crying outside the tomb. She was still in shock from the events on Thursday and Friday. Still reeling from seeing Jesus hanging on the cross, bleeding and beaten, crying out to God in heaven asking why had he been forsaken. Still adjusting to the idea that Jesus was gone from her life forever.
And God surprised her like an April snowfall.
Jesus was there. Alive. Talking. Breathing. Calling her by name.
Jerusalem was carrying on just around the bend as though nothing had happened … well, maybe not quite NOTHING … but nothing to get all worked up about …
Or should we?
The tomb was empty. Nobody came up with the body. Nobody except the women who went to the tomb – and THAT wasn’t the DEAD body, but the risen Lord.
We live today in the knowledge that Christ rose from the dead and lives even today – James Cameron notwithstanding.
We live today in the victory that Jesus held over the grave.
Or do we?
Do we live as though there really IS something beyond the grave, or do we live weeping outside the tomb, seeing in it the end of all that we strive for, the cessation of existence, the ultimate end of all our earthly struggles?
How empowered would we be to stop weeping outside the tomb and move THROUGH the tomb WITH Christ, and jump into new ways of doing church, new ways of BEING church, of reaching out and welcoming the otherwise unwelcome, those who live on the edges of society, those outcasts who Christ welcomed as he did Zaccheus, the woman caught in adultery, or the woman at the well?
We have before us a table set with bread and juice, reminders of the body and blood of Christ… reminders of the sacrifice HE offered in our place. His standing invitation is to take the bread and eat it, take the juice and drink it – but to remember that in so doing, we are proclaiming HIS death until he comes – BACK. That’s not a small thing we do. Because in sharing the bread and the cup we are proclaiming that we DO, in fact, live BEYOND the grave.
(Communion)
Let’s pray.
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