[Propertalk] Easter: Preaching John 20:1-18

Tue Apr 19 10:28:38 EDT 2011

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Preaching                        John 20:1-18

by Anna Carter Florence

The angels said to                    her, "Woman, why are you weeping?" 

It’s kind of a foolish                  question—asking a woman in a graveyard why she’s                  crying—which in retrospect maybe wasn’t so foolish.                  Because she could have answered a lot of things,                  couldn’t she? 

Why am I crying? 

I’m crying for his                    body, nailed to a cross. 

I’m crying for his                    body, laid in a tomb. But what she said was this:                    I’m crying for his body, stolen away. They have                    taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they                    have laid him.

Oh, they’ve taken away                  my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve laid him. 

That’s something we hear                  a lot the first semester in seminary, after the                  biblical department has had its way with the students.                

Oh, they’ve                  deconstructed my Bible; they’ve taken away my Jesus,                  and I don’t know where they’ve laid him. 

But I’ve heard it in                  youth groups, too, when the teenagers start losing                  what little idealism they had, and coming to terms                  with the world we’ve left them: 

Oh, they’ve ruined my                  planet with violence and hypocrisy; they’ve taken away                  my Jesus, and I don’t know where they’ve laid him. 

And I hear it in the                  church, whenever a group of people gets scared that                  things are going to change if we do this or that, and                  what if we don’t like it? What if we can’t tell                  whether those changes are Christian or not? 

Oh, they’ve desecrated                  my church with heresies; they’ve taken away my Jesus,                  and I don’t know where they’ve laid him.

I don’t think the church                  in our time is weeping for a crucified Jesus. I think                  the church is weeping for a stolen body, and a                  desecrated tomb. They’ve taken away my Jesus; oh,                  they’ve taken him away. Do you hear that where you                  are, that weeping and wailing? It breaks your heart,                  even as it makes you crazy. 

When you’re crying over                  a stolen body, everyone you meet is a potential thief.                  That’s where Mary is. Jesus appears right in front of                  her, and she can’t even recognize him in the state                  she’s in. She thinks he’s the gardener, and that he                  did it!—which is major textual irony if I ever saw it.                  "Sir," she begs him, "if you have carried him away,                  tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him                  away." She might as well have said, "Look, I won’t                  press charges. Just show me the body, and we’ll                  pretend it never happened." I guess that’s what you do                  when you’re crying over a stolen body. You hope you                  can strike a deal and pretend it never happened. You                  hope you can put the body back and no one will get                  hurt. Do you hear that where you are? 

When you’re crying over                  a stolen body, I guess that’s what you do, and I guess                  that’s what you hope for. Look, just put it back, and                  no one will get hurt.

I think we in the church                  have been living this pattern for quite a while:                  suspicion, accusation, secret deals. A lot of                  foolishness, and not very biblical, if you read this                  text, because the story isn’t nearly over. Two things                  happen. The first is that Jesus calls Mary by name.                  And the second is that he won’t let her hold onto him.

When you’re crying about                  who took your Jesus away, I guess there’s only one                  thing that will stop you. Mary. MARY. You have to hear                  him say your name. I don’t know why, except that maybe                  we can’t see resurrection any other way. And you have                  to see it; you have to see it, because it’s not like                  you can explain it; if you could explain it, Jesus                  would have said, "I believe you’re operating with a                  false hermeneutic, Mary. Sit down and let me interpret                  these events for you." 

No; you can’t explain                  resurrection. It addresses you; it calls you out.                  Mary! That’s all he had to say, and she knew. There                  isn’t any guilty gardener; there isn’t any stolen                  body. There’s a risen body! And what are the first                  words out of her mouth? A confession: Rabbouni!—which                  doesn’t mean "teacher" at all, but, my Lord. My Lord!                

We can guess what she                  tried to do next. She tried to embrace him: that’s the                  second thing that happens. Because he literally says,                  "Stop holding onto me; stop clinging to me." See how                  fast it happens? You go from seeing resurrection to                  confessing your faith to grabbing it with both fists.                  And the next thing you know, the emphasis is shifting                  from my Lord to my Lord; mine! There sure is a lot of                  that going around, people suffocating other people                  with their own clenched confessions. 

Do you think that’s                  what’s going on in the church?—a lot of weeping over                  who stole the body and desecrated the tomb?—but also                  these moments of absolute clarity when we know we have                  been addressed; and we see what resurrection looks                  like?—so we make our confession, and then we can’t                  help it; we start to cling to it, and control it, and                  defend it, and measure people against it, until before                  you know it, we think we can judge what resurrection                  looks like. Before you know it, we aren’t holding onto                  anything but the Jesus of our own expectations. Do you                  think that’s what’s going on in the church?

He won’t let us do it,                  will he? Don’t hold onto me. Stop clinging to me. 

It is the first                  post-resurrection teaching: 

You can see the risen                  Christ, but you can’t cling to him. 

You can confess your                  faith in Jesus, but you can’t own him. 

Don’t cling to him. Go                  and announce that he is risen, he is risen indeed!

Happy Easter, sisters                  and brothers.

Anna Carter Florence

                        GoodPreacher.com

PO Box 843 | Amelia, VA 23002

                  804-561-3566 | office at goodpreacher.com

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