Weekly Sermon

"I Have Seen the Lord!" : March 31, 2002

The Reverend Anne Benefield

John 20:10-18

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and 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. They 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." When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus 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." Jesus said to her, "Mary!" She turned and said to him in Hebrew, Rabbouni!" (which means Teacher). Jesus 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.'" Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, "I have seen the Lord"; and she told them that he had said these things to her. Prayer: Gracious God, because the tomb is empty, our lives are full. Let us hear your word to us on this Easter morning so that we will go out from here, brimming with the love of God for all the world. Amen. "I have seen the Lord!" Were there ever any sweeter words spoken? At sunrise on Easter morning, I wonder if just telling the story of Mary Magdalene meeting Jesus is as eloquent a statement of the resurrection as any other we will ever hear. Mary's witness is so powerful because in five simple words she defines faith. First, please note that she speaks in the first person. She starts with "I" not you or they or someone else. Her faith is personal. Her faith is not borrowed from others. Her faith isn't dependent on others sharing it. Her faith isn't a hand-me-down. If we want to have faith on this Easter morning, we must take the risen Christ personally. I was talking with a young mother the other day about how we practice our faith. She mentioned that when she was in college, she stopped attending church and she stayed away for a few years. I could tell she felt guilty about that, but I reassured her that most young people move away from the church for a while and I think that in the long run that absence from church may save their faith. When she and others like her including me, come back to the church we come back on our own. We come back because we realize that we can't make it by ourselves, that we need our Savior to save us, we need to be sustained at the table of the Lord. God has placed in us a longing that can't be filled by anything or anyone but God. It is personal for us. I read a beautiful story about a physician and poet, who was also a nun, named Sister Ann Manganaro. She worked in Guarjila, El Salvador. In an article called "Imperceptible Ligf, Incomprehensible Death," John Kavannah writes about working along side her in a neonatal intensive care unit where she struggled hard to save a five-inch premature baby named Tamika. John Kavanaugh writes, "The girl was left in the hospital, fated to die, unable to thrive, bereft of possibility. She smiled once, cupped in Ann's hands, after weeks of being held, caressed and gazed upon. Then she died…After we two buried Tamika with the help of a generous funeral director, I protested to Ann that it all felt so meaningless and bleak. 'What on earth did Tamika ever have?' 'Well,' Ann said, 'she had the power to evoke love from me.'" Sister Ann took her faith personally and in that personal faith she recognized Christ even in a helpless, premature baby girl. (John Kavanaugh, "Imperceptible Life, Incomprehensible Death," America, 4-11, June 1994, 31) The second thing to notice in Mary's statement is that she "saw" the Lord. She experienced his presence. Her faith was vibrant because Christ lives. Through the Holy Spirit he lives in us. We are his body in the world today. We are his arms to hold those who need comforting. We are his feet that travel to the lost and hopeless. We are his hearts to surround the unloved with love. In "The Powerful Witness of Community," Charles Moore tells this story: "Alan and I met 20 years ago. We were both students at Cal Poly. I was a freshman and he was a junior. As a physics major, Alan was both intelligent and articulate. How Alan got on with his studies, however, is still a mystery to me; Alan was virtually blind. He could see well enough to get from one place to another all right, but when it came to reading it was a different story. I can still see Alan, his face two inches away from some text, arduously pecking away at each of his assignments. Alan not only got straight A's, but he later returned to Cal Poly as a physics instructor. "Although Jewish in background, Alan was extremely skeptical of anything religious, especially Christian. He was well read and well versed, and he argued his doubt like a scientist. Alan believed that Christianity was unable to pass the methodological requirements of science. He therefore pled agnostic; there simply wasn't enough evidence to warrant belief in God. As a fledgling freshman, I, along with several others, tried to show him how, in fact, there was ample evidence for Christianity's truth. There were not only the facts of fulfilled prophecy and the reliability of the New Testament documents, but also the testimony of creation. Wasn't that sufficient? Not for Alan… "Alan was usually happy to discuss religious subjects, which always gave us Christians some hope. But even more intriguing was how he liked to hang out with us. Alan didn't have many friends. He was rather unattractive, much too serious, and totally dependent on others for any kind of transportation. But we tried to reach out to him as best we could. Alan knew he could come with us to the beach or on our recurrent midnight runs to Taco Bell. We tried to include Alan in anything we were doing. "One evening something happened. Though I wasn't there at the time, a bunch of friends had gotten together for a praise night on the beach. Alan came along to enjoy the sunset and roaring bonfire. By the time the evening was over, Alan had made a commitment to follow Jesus. No one had spoken to him, nor did anyone even know. The next day he came to me to tell me what had happened. "'But, Alan,' I said, 'what made you decide?' "'You see, Chuck,' he told me, 'it came to me last night, while everyone was singing around the fire, that whenever I am around you Christians I am happy. Even when we disagree with each other, I find myself liking to be with Christians.' "'But, Alan, I thought you were never going to become a believer unless there was first enough evidence.' "'Yes, Chuck,' he replied, 'and I still require it, but that's precisely why I now believe. It's how you all love each other that strikes me most. I never considered that evidence before. A good scientist, you know, considers all the facts. I simply haven't found the love you Christians have for each other anywhere else. That's evidence enough for me that Jesus is Lord." Like Mary, Alan experienced the Lord first hand. (Charles Moore, "The Powerful Witness of Community," Beyond Argument,www.gospelcom.net) The last thing to notice is that Mary saw "the Lord." She didn't see the gardener; she saw the Lord, but, remember, at first she thought she was seeing the gardener. Every time I read this story, I think, "Isn't that just like the Lord to come so inconspicuously that Mary mistakes him for the gardener. Tony Campolo tells a great story about how easy it can be to miss the Lord. It seems that "the pastor of a large inner-city congregation established a soup kitchen in the basement of his church to help feed the many derelicts and homeless people who hung around that part of the city. These needy folk flocked to the church day in and day out to get the help they needed to survive. "Over time, these derelict and homeless people began to wander into the eleven o'clock Sunday worship service at the church. The upper-middle-class folks who worshiped at that time felt uncomfortable with such lower-class visitors. Eventually, one of the church leaders took the pastor aside and asked him, 'Do these people have to be here with us? Can't we provide a special service just for them?' "The pastor answered, 'Well, I think everybody should have a chance to meet Jesus face to face.' 'Of course,' said the deacon, 'everybody should have a chance to meet Jesus. I think they should have the same opportunities to meet Jesus face to face as we all do.' "The pastor shot back, 'I'm not talking about them! I'm talking about you!' [Tony Campolo, Let Me Tell You a Story: Life Lessons from Unexpected Places and Unlikely People, (Nashville: Word Publishing, 2000), p. 28] On that Easter morning so long ago, it took a moment for Mary to recognize Jesus. Let's pray that it only takes us a moment to recognize him when he comes to us. Amen.