Easter Day

Shalom Mennonite Church

Sunday, April 4 - Easter Sunday

Text: John 20:1-18

“behold”

“Behold! I have seen the Lord!”

Mary Magdalene's words are

a proclamation and a prayer,

made with eyes wide open.

She has seen with “the eyes of her eyes,”

and with the eye of her heart.

She has seen and believed.

It took some looking, though.

While others remained in hiding,

Mary came to the tomb while it was still dark.

Perhaps she wanted to see the place,

to touch the tomb,

to be sure that it wasn't all just

a horrible nightmare.

At first Mary looks from a distance.

Peering through the darkness

she sees that the displaced stone.

Running to get help, she returns with Peter

and the one called the Beloved Disciple,

and they, too, look to see what has happened.

Together, they look more closely . . .

An empty, stuffy tomb.

Grave clothes left, as if the body

had just disappeared.

This was enough, it seems, for the Beloved Disciple.

“He saw and believed,” we are told.

He and Peter return to their homes.

But Mary Magdalene remains.

Perhaps it is her pain that compels her to stay

and to look more closely, still.

She looks deep into the empty tomb.

In time she sees two angels

where her teacher's body should have been.

They see her. They see her tears and ask,

“Woman, why are you weeping?”

It is after responding to their question,

and giving voice to her pain and confusion,

that she turns to find that

there is someone else with her.

At first she sees gardener of the tombs.

But when he speaks,

she sees even more deeply,

and beholds the face of Jesus.

“Behold! I have seen the Lord!”

The Resurrection is a wonder

to be beheld, proclaimed and prayed

with eyes wide open.

To see it we must sometimes

peer into the darkness.

To perceive it we must sometimes

look closely and patiently –

sometimes for a very long time.

Then, to believe it – perhaps that

is the greatest gift and leap of all.

In her book, Pilgrim at Tinker Creek,

Annie Dillard tells of a young woman,

who, at 22 years of age, received a surgery

that gave her sight after a lifetime of blindness.

At first she was overcome by the world's brightness,

the brightness and light that you and I take

for granted each day when we have eyes to see.

It was so overwhelming for her

that she closed her eyes

and did not look again for two weeks.

Then, as she gradually began to look,

and to see more and more -

to see color, and shape and shadow for the first time -

she said again and again:

“O God! O God! How beautiful! How beautiful!”

For those of us with eyes to see sunlight

shining off and shining through

the stuff of this world,

it may be a rare moment that we make such an exclamation.

We might say it when standing

on the edge of the Grand Canyon for the first time,

or seeing a spring storm roll over the Flint Hills,

or witnessing some tender, heart-opening moment.

These are moments of beholding – deep seeing.

Much of the time, however,

we cast our gaze only briefly, skimming across

things and people as we move through life.

How often do we look long and deep,

with the eyes wide open?

It is a gift we offer to the world and others

to behold in this way.

And when someone looks at you in this way

you feel the gift of it.

It isn't easy to look with patience

when we're in a hurry.

It isn't easy to look deeply

when so much seems ordinary.

It isn't easy to look with hope

when it is dark.

It isn't easy to gaze carefully into a tomb,

when death is near.

Yet, this is where the Resurrection is first seen,

and it is where it is first believed -

precisely where it is least expected.

Here and now, centuries after Mary's moment

of recognition and wonder at the empty tomb,

we proclaim “Christ is risen!”

Unfortunately, it is easy for that

to remain a remembrance, to be a memorial

proclamation about the past and not

a affirmation about the present.

What if we said with Mary Magdalene:

“I have seen the Lord!”?

I have seen the Lord!

He was sitting at Druber's this morning

drinking coffee and eating a donut

and he said: “Isn't the sunrise glorious?”

I have seen the Lord!

She was at the Sister's of St. Joseph monastery

last weekend and she was stooped over in a backbrace,

but she managed to look up into my face with a smile

and hold my hand and say, “Welcome.”

I have seen the Lord!

He was there when I told my friend

“I'm sorry for betraying your trust.”

And I saw his face when my friend said,

“I forgive you.”

I have seen the Lord!

She was holding a spoon

and feeding her lover

on the nursing unit at Kidron Bethel Village.

The face of the risen one

can be seen everywhere once our eyes are open.

Even in the darkness

and even among the tombs.

The resurrection of Christ,

God's living Word of Love,

changes everything in this world,

not just in one moment, but through all moments!

And there is nothing that can overcome it.

No sin can overcome its power to heal.

No darkness can overcome its light.

No violence can overcome its peace.

No passage of time can overcome its vitality.

If you want to behold the resurrection

you must sometimes

look beyond the light-filled places

and peer into the darkness, both inside and out.

To behold the resurrection you must

slow down and look carefully and patiently -

sometimes for a very long time.

And when you behold it

with the eyes of your eyes

and the eyes of your heart,

you might be led to believe

and to proclaim with those who've come before:

“O God! How beautiful!”

“I have seen the Lord!”