The Gospel story is not about what happened to Jesus! Did you notice? The Gospel writers, including the writer of John’s Gospel, tell us nothing about what happened to Jesus. Whatever happened to Jesus in that tomb in the garden was between him and God. Did Jesus triumphantly go down into Sheol between his crucifixion and resurrection and bring the righteous souls out, as tradition says? The Gospel writers say nothing about that either. Nevertheless, something happened that changed forever the lives of those who had known Jesus. The Gospel writers are clear about that!
Can we even begin to grasp what happened that Sunday morning? Yes, the Gospel writers tell a powerful story. But perhaps an empty tomb, folded wrappings, and angels don’t help us to grasp its impact. Perhaps we need some different images for what happened that morning. Perhaps “deep magic” was at work, as C.S. Lewis called it in The Chronicles of Narnia, a victorious, life-giving principle that existed “before the dawn of time,” and that triumphed over the evil logic that would try to murder Aslan. Or perhaps you resonate with different images. Rowan Williams, former Archbishop of Canterbury, says that at Easter, “we are really standing in the middle of the second ‘Big Bang,’ a tumultuous surge of divine energy as fiery and intense as the very beginning of the universe.” Perhaps the resurrection is like an explosion in the center of the earth whose unleashed energy finally erupts in a volcano. Perhaps it is like a child’s first words, after which a lifelong torrent of words comes forth. Perhaps it is like a drop of dye that colors all the liquid around it. Perhaps it is like a splash of perfume – or a pound of costly nard – whose fragrance fills the whole house.
What happened to Jesus is certainly important. Whether or not we can grasp what happened, the resurrection has a value all its own, regardless of what happened next. And yet the best way to grasp the meaning and importance of the resurrection may be to see its impact in the lives of real people. The Gospel writers do show us that: people whose lives were truly transformed by their experiences of the risen Jesus.
You can see the beginnings of that transformation right here in today’s readings. Take the Beloved Disciple. Tradition has it that Peter was middle-aged, and that the Beloved Disciple was a younger man. Can you see the Beloved Disciple, in his eagerness, sprinting ahead of Peter to the edge of the tomb? Deferring to Peter, he lets Peter go in first. Then he finally goes in himself. Miracle of miracles, he “saw and believed.” What does he believe? At this point, we can’t be sure. But we do know this: the Beloved Disciple is a model of faith throughout the Gospel of John. Perhaps, before even meeting the risen Jesus, the beloved Disciple already has an inkling of the truth of what the Scriptures and Jesus himself had foretold. And so he stands out as model of swift and genuine faith in the fulfillment of Jesus’ promises.
Perhaps some of you are like that. Perhaps you have always understood yourselves to be living a resurrection life. Perhaps you have always trusted that Jesus has conquered death. Perhaps you have always seen newness of life in times of deep grief and mourning. Perhaps you have always been able to speak the consoling word, or see the dye, or smell the perfume. Perhaps you have always been able see the fulfillment of Jesus’ promises ahead of us, like a shining city in the far distance. Blessings on you. You are truly already living in the eternal Easter tide.
But then there’s Peter. What brought him to that garden? What made him want to peer into Jesus’ tomb? He hadn’t helped to place Jesus’ body there. He had denied Jesus three times. While the beloved disciple had stood by Jesus at the cross and had received Jesus’ mother into his home, Peter, with the rest of the disciples, had run away from the cross. What makes him run so eagerly now? Jesus had called him a “rock.” Does he rush to the tomb out of a sense of responsibility for the other disciples? Or is he jealous of the Beloved Disciple? Does he feel he has to prove that he too is a faithful a disciple? Or does he feel guilty for running away and deserting Jesus in his hour of deepest need? Perhaps he is curious, or maybe even hopeful. After all, he had seen Jesus raise Lazarus. Was there a chance that the same thing had happened to Jesus? Though the Beloved Disciple outruns him, Peter enters the tomb first. He sees what his companion sees, but doesn’t know what to make of what he sees. Perhaps envious of his friend’s quick faith, he turns on his heel and quickly leaves. Only later does Peter experience the transformative power of the resurrection and understand what had happened at the empty tomb.
Many of us are like Peter. We understand well the mix of emotions he might have been feeling. We envy those whose faith is greater than ours. We know we’ve deserted Jesus time and again, and we promise over and over again to be more faithful disciples. Or we come to church on this day, or any day, out of habit or a sense of obligation. Yet perhaps – just perhaps – we are curious, even hopeful that the life-giving experiences of God’s presence and help, the touch of faith that we had in the past, just might be out there for us to experience again. It’s possible, just possible, that the resurrection is real. It’s possible, just possible too, that we, like Peter, will also be transformed by an encounter with the risen Christ. Because God knows who we are, and God is always ready to begin transforming us whenever we are ready to let God into our lives.
And then there is Mary Magdalene. With the other women, Mary remained faithful to the end. In darkness of night, in darkness of soul, she comes to the tomb grief-stricken. Having already suffered the loss of her dearest friend, at the tomb Mary suffers yet another loss, that of his body. While the men return home, Mary stays at the tomb, continuing to mourn. Sunk in grief, she isn’t thinking clearly. She doesn’t see that the figures inside the tomb are angels, and she mistakes Jesus for the caretaker of the garden. Jesus speaks her name. Then she understands exactly who he is. “Teacher,” she says. This is where Easter begins. This is where the miracle happens, when Mary encounters the living Lord and knows who he is. Suddenly she sees, suddenly she is transformed. In Jesus’ reply to her, she gets a glimpse of the great drama of which she has just become a part and of the larger story that has just begun. Transformed, she understands that she will now be living life on a different plane. She receives Jesus’ commission: “Go to my brothers and say to them….” Reluctantly, she obeys the risen Jesus and leaves him to go to the others. “I have seen the Lord,” she exultantly tells them.
And the other disciples hear and believe her. They take up Jesus’ commission. The Beloved Disciple shares his experiences of Jesus’s life in the Gospel story. Peter becomes an eloquent preacher. The Word spreads. Right down to the twenty-first century. Right down to us. The good news that Mary announced to her fellow disciples was just the beginning of the story, just the beginning of an ongoing revelation of what resurrection and all its implications mean.
The miracle continues – not in a tomb hewn out of a rock, not in a garden outside Jerusalem, but here, now, whenever we encounter the risen Lord. Like Peter, we may be faithless, cowardly, confused, or barely able to muster enough energy and hope to make it to church. Like Mary, we may be grieving all kinds of losses. Like Mary and all the disciples, we may be astounded when Jesus shows up. Yet in our encounter with Jesus, we too are changed. And we too are commissioned. That is what we celebrate today: that we too are part of that great drama, and that in it we too are being changed and transformed.
The story continues. The universe is still spreading out. Evolution did not stop with the first organism. All of creation is still growing, changing, and evolving. History did not stop with the decline of the Roman Empire. The dye is still coloring the water. The fragrance is still filling the house. The volcano is still erupting. The resurrection was not a past event that was completed 2,000 years ago. Jesus is still rising. And all humanity is rising with him. Because Jesus took our flesh as his own, his resurrection will be complete only when every human person is resurrected, only when every molecule of matter is resurrected, only when God’s gracious purpose for creation is finally realized. And it will be. Jesus’ resurrection is our sure sign. Thanks be to God.
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