Alive and Present (John 20:1-18)

 She thought he was the gardener!

Have you ever not recognized someone that you should have recognized?

It happened to me once. Actually, it happens to me all the time. But the worst, most memorable time, (I don’t know if I want to tell you this!) happened at a funeral.

This was years ago in California… A few days before the funeral, I had met with the daughter of the person who had died. She wasn’t a church member, and I had never met before, but she was the one who seemed to be organizing things for the family.

She arrived for our meeting in her jeans and a casual shirt, which was fine; and we met and talked about her parent, the one who had died; and we talked about what she and the family would like in the funeral… and then our meeting ended.

A few days later the funeral took place, and she arrived, but instead of jeans and a casual shirt, she was dressed very nicely, and she had had her hair done, and she had put makeup on…

(And, yes, in this story I do need to emphasize that she didn’t look exactly as she had the first time we met, in order to lessen my embarrassment somewhat…)

And I saw her and greeted her and welcomed her… but I did not recognize her.

And let me tell you, that was as close as I’ve ever come to a major catastrophe in my ministry.

Fortunately, after a few minutes, I realized: Oh my gosh! It’s her! The daughter! How did I not recognize her!

And I quickly replayed, in my mind, the things I said to her since she arrived, to see how badly I had embarrassed myself… but fortunately, while my tone may have come across as awkward, nothing in what I had said had revealed my utter incompetence and absent-mindedness. I was able to recover… but just barely. I think.

I wonder how Mary Magdalene felt when she realized that it was Jesus standing right in front of her, yet she had failed to recognize him.

Was she embarrassed? She had known him well. It was different from my situation at the funeral. They hadn’t just met once. They were close…

Or was her joy at seeing him alive so great, that her embarrassment at not recognizing him didn’t matter?

And how did Jesus react?

The only thing he said to her, at first, was her name. Mary.

But how did he say it? 

Did he say it with laughter? “Mary! It’s me!”

Did he say it with annoyance? “Maryyyy…”

Was he disappointed? (Imagine going through all that Jesus went through, and then not being recognized by one of your closest, dearest friends.)

Or was his voice filled with gentleness and compassion? 

I like to think it was with gentleness and compassion. Mary had been through a lot herself. She was still going through a lot. The grief. The shock. 

Jesus, at this moment, already knew that there was reason for joy and celebration, but Mary didn’t yet realize that. She was still deep in her despair. 

“Oh, Mary…”

And then, imagine her face, as she realized that the one she had come to mourn, 

was in fact alive and speaking to her! 

In fact, if you had met Mary as she made her way to the tomb, while it was still dark, and then you went off for a little bit, and returned right after Jesus had appeared to her, you probably would not recognize her as being the same person you had seen earlier. Imagine how much her countenance would have changed! Her posture, her expression, her voice—everything would be different! She would look like a whole different person!

I guess the joy and hope of Easter does make us into different people. We are weighed down by so many burdens, by personal struggles, by news headlines of war and corruption and lack of compassion and lack of justice shown to those who are poor and vulnerable…

And our bodies and our expressions reflect the weight of all we are carrying.

But on Easter morning, we are reminded that all the bad news, all the negativity, all the oppression and injustice and lack of compassion and lack of love in our world, is not the final answer. 

Because the final answer is life. The final answer is love. The final answer is joy.

And when we are full of life and full of love and full of joy, our posture improves, and our face brightens, and every word we speak becomes a song of joy.

And we have this joy even though there is still so much darkness and injustice and death in our world, because we know that hope and love and life are also present, and that they are stronger, and that life does, in the end, triumph over death and all the death-dealing ways of this world.

We know this, because of the resurrection.

Mary wasn’t the only one who didn’t recognize Jesus that day…

********

Later that day (according to Luke’s gospel), two of Jesus’s closest followers were traveling from Jerusalem to Emmaus, which the scripture says is about a seven mile walk. They were discussing all that had taken place during the recent Passover festival; how Jesus came to Jerusalem, flipped the tables of the sellers and money changers in the temple, got arrested, and was crucified. 

And while they were talking and discussing these things, another traveler came near and started walking with them. It was Jesus himself, and yet… they did not recognize him.

Between them and Mary, I’m really starting to feel not-so-bad about my embarrassing moment at that funeral…

Anyway, Jesus says: “What are you guys talking about?”

And at first, they don’t know how to respond, and then one of them says: “Are you the only person who doesn’t know what happened? How Jesus of Nazareth, a mighty prophet, was handed over to Rome by the chief priests, and was crucified? We had thought he was the one to set Israel free. 

“Yet some of the women…” [for, in Luke’s gospel, Mary did not go to the tomb alone] “some of the women went to the tomb this morning and came back claiming that Jesus was alive.”

And then Jesus said, “Don’t you get it?” And he started going through the scriptures with them… 

It says he started with Moses, which is too bad. I would have loved for Jesus to have gone back even further, and to start talking to them about Joseph and his brothers, and how the brothers came to Egypt and met with the prince of Egypt, not realizing that it was actually Joseph himself they were meeting with… for they did not recognize him.

Wouldn’t that be funny?

But he didn’t. And the two disciples he was traveling with still didn’t recognize him. 

And when they reached Emmaus, those two travelers extended hospitality to Jesus, who they still thought was just some random stranger who had joined them on their journey. They offered him dinner and a place to stay for the night. 

And while they were eating, when Jesus took the bread, blessed it, broke it, and offered it to them, then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him. 

And they ran back to Jerusalem, rejoicing, to tell the other disciples what had happened.

Now, maybe these stories made you chuckle: my story of not recognizing someone, Mary’s story of mistaking Jesus for the gardener, or the story of the two disciples not recognizing the traveler journeying with them as Jesus.

But how often do you forget that Jesus is alive, today, and that he dwells among us? How often do you remember to look for Jesus? How often have you encountered Jesus, and failed to recognize him?

How often have you failed to recognize our risen Lord?

******

In Matthew 25, Jesus tells his disciples that when the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. And he will say to those who are righteous: “Come, you who are blessed by my father. Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world. 

“For I was hungry and you gave me food; I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink; I was a stranger and you welcomed me; I was naked and you gave me clothing; I was sick and you took care of me; I was in prison and you visited me.”

Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?”

And they will be told, “Just as you did it to one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did it to me.”

We have a hard time recognizing Jesus in the hungry, in the thirsty, in the immigrant, in the sick, in those who are in prison. We have a hard time recognizing Jesus in the least of these, those who are most vulnerable in our society.

But when we treat them with compassion, with mercy, with empathy, with love, and with hospitality, our eyes will be opened, and we will see the risen Christ in our very midst, and we will then understand that he has been with us all along.

Christ is risen. Christ is risen, indeed!

And he dwells among us, in the people we sometimes overlook… the people we sometimes cast aside…

But when we serve them, and minister to them, and work with them to create a community where all are able to live lives of wholeness and abundance…

Then we will know that not only is Jesus alive… but that he lives right here among us; and when we serve the least of these among us, then our eyes will be opened, and we, like Mary, will be able to announce to those around us: “We have seen the Lord!”

And Yet (Matthew 26: 17-30)

 Who likes roller coasters?

At Six Flags Magic Mountain, just north of Los Angeles, there is a ride called Tatsu. Tatsu is a flying coaster, which means you are suspended below the track horizontally, so that your body is in a sort of Superman pose.

That was all I knew about Tatsu when I got in line. And when the ride began, it wasn’t too bad. There I was, gently flying above the trees, nothing too extreme.

But then I saw far below me—124 feet below me, to be exact—the track. At first I was confused. I thought, “What is the track doing way down there if I’m way up here?”

Then I realized that we were about to take a nose-dive, headfirst, toward the ground, as we headed into an element called a pretzel loop…[*****] 

…because it’s shaped like a pretzel.

And this pretzel loop was—and still is—the largest one in the world.

I panicked.

Freefalling toward the ground headfirst was not something I had anticipated.

But the curve into the pretzel loop was gentle, and it carried me toward the ground, and continued curving, along the ground—at this point, I was on my back, facing the sky—and then the track curved back up again, and we resumed flying over the treetops.

The one and only time I ever rode Tatsu was the day before my mom’s funeral. 

A few days after Mom’s funeral, Dad passed away. My whole life in that period felt like a roller coaster. There were some ups, and a lot of downs; and, at times, it felt like I was freefalling headfirst toward the ground.

But then the prayers and the support of so many family and friends gently held me. I did not crash into the ground; instead, the love and support I received at that time in my life carried me along, and brought me back up to where I needed to be.

And it was such a strange, dichotomous mix of emotions. The grief was real and heavy. 

Yet at the same time I felt more blessed than I had ever felt before. I felt closer to my sisters, as we shared our grief together. And I felt closer to the many friends and relatives and church folks who offered their sincere condolences…

For me, Holy Week is like that. There is tremendous grief and sadness as we ponder the darkness of the world, the evil that exists, evil that would deny, betray, and kill even God’s own son. 

But there is also the tremendous joy and gratitude for the love and blessings that Christ’s willingness to die brings to the world.

*****

It starts on Palm Sunday. Jesus and his disciples arrive in Jerusalem at the start of the Passover Festival, the feast of the unleavened bread. Our Lenten devotional points out that this was one of several pilgrim feasts, and it brought Jews from far away to Jerusalem.

Herod also came to Jerusalem for the Passover Festival. For Herod, it was an occasion to see what was going on, and an occasion to be seen. 

Herod’s arrival into Jerusalem was a magnificent spectacle, with Roman soldiers lining the streets, their spears raised in salute, while Herod himself arrived in a golden chariot pulled by one or more magnificent war horses.

Despite this display of wealth and power, Herod portrayed himself as one of the people. He wanted the people to see him as a Jew like them, faithful to the God of Abraham. 

Yet Herod ignored the teachings of the prophets and of Moses. He did not care for the poor and needy. He took away people’s rights, and persecuted any who acted or even spoke against him.

Just ask John the Baptist.

The high priests in the temple were granted much wealth and privilege by Herod; in exchange, they supported him and his corrupt ways. They aligned themselves with the things he proclaimed, and so they, too, ignored the teachings of Moses and of the prophets. 

In fact, they were likely right there, in prominent positions along the parade route, welcoming Herod into the city when he arrived at the start of the Passover festival.

***** Jesus, in contrast, entered Jerusalem on a donkey, instead of in a chariot pulled by a warhorse. His path was lined not with soldiers raising their weapons, but with peasants raising palm branches. 

Herod’s procession was over-the-top; magnificent; a great display of wealth and power.

Jesus’s procession was humble, and poor; it was everything that Herod’s procession was not.

The people who greeted Jesus and shouted his praise were neither influential nor powerful. They were peasants and artisans, beggars and outcasts.

Their shouts of “Hosanna!”, and their waving of palm branches, was both a celebration, and a protest. A political protest, against Herod and against the violence, oppression, and inequality of the Roman Empire. It was a rally for the kingdom of heaven, the kingdom of peace, and in support of Jesus, the herald of God’s new kingdom come on earth.

And because they were filled with such great hope and emotion at Jesus’ arrival, and because of all the other events that were about to take place in the week to come… the highs, and the lows… It really was one roller coaster of a week.

*****

A few days later, Jesus gathers with his disciples for the Passover meal. It is, in many ways, a traditional passover meal. 

The escape from Egypt is recalled: How God sent plagues to Egypt, yet Pharaoh’s hard-heartedness would not let God’s people go free. 

Then God sent one final plague: the death of the first-born, reminiscent of Pharaoh’s earlier order to kill every Hebrew male child.

This time, death passed-over the home of the Hebrews—that’s where the name Passover comes from—but every first-born Egyptian son died. 

The Passover festival, when Jesus and Herod and everyone else came to Jerusalem, commemorates this event, when death passed-over the Hebrew households, and they escaped from Pharaoh’s hand.

The Hebrews fled with such haste that they didn’t have time to wait for their bread to rise. And that’s why Passover was also called the Feast of the Unleavened Bread.

And the meal that Jews ate on Passover, and that they eat on Passover to this day, is eaten in remembrance of when God allowed God’s people to escape from the evil, oppressive, rule of Pharaoh.

Herod’s rule was so oppressive, that people in Jesus’ day hoped that God would again intervene, to lead them to freedom and abundant life.

And this hope was present when Jesus gathered with his disciples for the passover meal, the meal that would be his last before dying on the cross.

In the old, traditional way, Jesus and his disciples recalled the Passover and the escape from Egypt. 

In the old, traditional way, Jesus lifted up the bread, and spoke the ancient prayer: baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha’olam, ha motzi lechem min ha-aretz. “Blessed are you, eternal God, whose presence fills creation, who brings forth bread from the earth.”

Then Jesus did something unexpected. Something new. He added, after the prayer, these words: “This is my body.” 

He did the same with the cup. “This is my blood."

In referring to his body and blood, Jesus was saying that these elements—the bread and the cup—represent his life. 

He was saying that this passover meal wasn’t just a way to remember how God led God’s people to life and liberation so many generations ago; it was also a way to recognize that God is leading people to life and liberation now, in this time, through him; through Jesus. 

And then, Jesus added: “Whenever you eat this bread and drink from this cup, do it in remembrance of me.” Traditionally, this meal was eaten in honor of Caesar. A toast to Caesar was as much a part of the meal as the Star-Spangled Banner is a part of Major League Baseball games. 

But instead of a toast to Caesar, Jesus said, “whenever you do this, to it in memory of me.”

—----

What makes this even more emotional is that it is already evident that Jesus is going to be betrayed. A tragic end awaits him. 

And yet, Jesus–knowing this–still offers this prayer of thanks, of blessing, of gratitude.

And the disciples must have been wondering: Are we supposed to be sad? Is this a funeral meal? Are we supposed to be celebrating? Is this a meal of joy?

And the answer is: 

Yes.

It is all of that.

In Peter Pan, it is said that Tinker Bell, because she was a fairy and so small, only had room for one emotion at a time. 

“Tink was not all bad: or, rather, she was all bad just now, but, on the other hand, sometimes she was all good. Fairies have to be one thing or the other, because being so small they unfortunately have room for one feeling only at a time.” [J.M. Barrie, Peter Pan]

But we do sometimes feel more than one feeling at a time. 

Like when someone close to us dies; we often feel gratitude for the life we shared with them, and gratitude for the comfort and condolences of friends, yet also deep sorrow at having lost someone we loved so much. 

And maybe there is also anger, at God, or at the person who died; and sometimes guilt, if we feel we didn’t love them as well as we could have, or if we left things unsaid too long until it was too late to say them.

And all this makes grieving confusing. We could be laughing one moment, and crying the next. And all those emotions just feel like more than one body, one person, can handle.

That’s what’s happening here at the Last Supper. Herod is still in control! In fact, under Herod’s regime, Jesus would be soon put to death!

And Yet… there is also joy and gratitude for the love and the life that come to us through Jesus. And we are so, so thankful for this.

And I think that carries over to the way we celebrate communion to this day. Communion is a joyful meal of great thanksgiving. In fact, in some ancient traditions, the meal itself is called the “great thanksgiving.” And in some traditions, it is called “eucharist,” a word that comes from a Greek word that means “thanksgiving.”

But at the same time, communion is when we remember the Last Supper, and the crucifixion, and the cost of the life and freedom we have through Christ. 

As we celebrate communion, we lament the state of the world. 

We lament that there is still oppression. 

We lament that the poor and other vulnerable people still are not taken care of, but are neglected, while the wealthy and powerful continue to accumulate more wealth and more power.

We lament that our leaders continue to wage war instead of peace. 

We lament the many lives lost and many more affected by the horrors of war. 

We lament all the other death-dealing ways of those who abuse their power.

And yet… we know… that none of that has the power to stop God’s love from surrounding us, and giving us life and hope. 

God’s love will always be there, to keep us on the track, and keep us from crashing head first into the ground. 

And in the kingdom of God, which is present even now, right now, right here, in our very midst, there is more than enough love, and more than enough grace, and more than enough hope.

That, we can celebrate.

And for that, we give thanks.