Posted on Sunday, April 12, 2009
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THE RESURRECTION OF OUR LORD

12 April Anno + Domini 2009

"Sacred Head, Now Wounded” Sermon Series

Part 10:  "He Is Risen! The Wound of Death Is Vanquished!” (John 20:11-16)

In the Name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen. 

He Is Risen! (He Is Risen Indeed! Alleluia!)

It does not matter how many times you encounter it, it never feels natural, never feels right.  Death always feels wrong.  Something inside does not accept that we will not hear that voice, see that face, touch that hand, experience that laughter ever again.  The grief counselors can talk till they are blue in the face about how death is simply a part of life and how we must accept it as inevitable and natural.  But we never do.  We never will.

Mary did not accept death.  Oh, she had no doubt that her Lord, her Teacher, was dead.  She had witnessed the horror of it.  Standing beside His mother, she had seen light die in His eyes as He hung gruesomely upon the cross.  She had seen them take His limp body from the wood, heard the horrid sound as they pulled the nails out, which had attached Him to that vile instrument of torture.  He was dead.  She had no doubt of that.

But it was not right.  She knew it was not right.  And she simply had to touch Him again.  It was imperative to her that she see that body again.  But the body was gone.  She had run to tell Peter and John - big help they were.  They checked it out and told her she was right:  the body was gone.  Then they left her, but she remained.  She did not know what to do, where to go, to whom to turn.  So she just stood there and started to cry.

Not the easy, gentle tears of the merely sad, but Mary wept the gut-wrenching, full-voiced sobs of the grieving.  Death.  It wounds not only those it takes from us, but it also wounds those who are left.  And sometimes it wounds us so badly we think it will kill us then and there.  Mary knew something of that as she sobbed and looked into the tomb.

But something was different now.  The tomb was not empty after all.  There were angels there, clothed in white.  One was sitting where the Lord's head had been, one where His feet had been.  And though Mary's sorrow could never shake or destroy their joy, they are concerned for her.  "Woman,” they ask, "why are you weeping?”

Jesus' death was such a given that she did not say, "Because my Lord is dead.”  Instead, her answer was, "They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid Him.”  Not knowing about the location of the body was tearing her up.  Death was horrible enough, but not to be able to find the body?  Not to be able to tend it and give it her last services?  She had to know where Jesus was, to touch His body once more.  How else could she face tomorrow?  How else could she face the rest of her life? 

Mary's grief is of such a magnitude that a conversation with angels does not faze her.  So she straightens up and turns and almost runs into the One who had never been far from her, the One who stood right beside her in her grief - though she knew it not.  He gently asks, "Woman, why are you weeping?  Whom are you seeking?” 

Hope rises in Mary's heart.  Is it the gardener?  Perhaps he is the one who moved her Master's body.  "Sir,” she cries, "if you have carried Him away, tell me where you have laid Him, and I will take Him away.”

Was it her tears that blinded Mary's eyes that morning?  Was it the grief of her heart that made all the world seem to move in slow motion - unreal and phantomlike?  It all changed when He said one word.  He called her name:  "Mary.”

"My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me” (John 10:27).  Although she had not recognized Him before, at the sound of her name, Mary's heart pounded, her breath caught, and she moved the hair from her face and stared in awe, in terror, in joy rising like a flood.

"Rabboni!” she cried.  "My teacher!”  And she lunged for Jesus and held His feet.  Beyond hope, beyond her wildest dreams, He stood there.  Not a ghost.  Not a spirit.  Not an illusion or some wishful thinking.  Her Jesus - flesh and blood, the wounds still visible, but transfigured, shining in glory.  Her Jesus stood there with her.   

And the tears came again, but this time of another sort.  These were not the sobs of despair, but the tears that brim from a cup that runs over with joy.  It was a tender moment, but the joys were only beginning.  Jesus had work for Mary to do, an embassy for her to carry out.  He sent her to His apostles to give them the message that He lives and that He is preparing to ascend to His Father and their Father, to His God and their God.  Death was not the end of Him, and so it will not be the end of Mary or of the disciples. 

Nor will death be the end of you who have Jesus as your "Rabboni,” dear friends.  Jesus has changed forever how we who cling to Him in faith live, how we grieve, and how we die.  Oh, we still feel in our bones how wrong death is, how unnatural, and we hate it with a passion.  But Jesus has made it something we never have to fear - not ever again.  For by His death and resurrection, Jesus has wounded death itself, dealt it a mortal blow from which it will never recover.  He came out of its stinking gullet alive, never to die again, and His promise to Mary, to His apostles, and to all His baptized children who remain faithful is that He will bring each and every one of us through the hole He punched in death into the home He has prepared for us with His Father.  There, all of us who have Jesus as our "Rabboni” shall dwell in Paradise with our God and with all the saints and angels to live life as our God has always meant life to be lived. 

To strengthen your faith in His resurrection victory, Jesus continues to put into your dying bodies His body that was on the tree, atoning for all your sin; His body that was in the tomb, sanctifying your grave; His body that Mary held in the garden that first Easter Day.  He pours down your throat the blood that He shed to wipe out the sin of the world, and He reminds you that it is all for you.  He whispers to each of you who are His, "As death could not hold Me, so it will not hold you, My child.  Baptized into My undying life, I will bring you out of death just as I came out of it - alive, never to die again.  And then the celebration will really begin!”

And, oh, dear friends, what a grand celebration that will be!  Already, we join in that celebration here, as we partake of the Feast, which is a foretaste of the Feast to come in His Kingdom, which has no end.  So, rejoice, dear friends in Christ, this glorious Easter morning and join your voices to the song of the faithful, singing: 

At the Lamb's high feast we sing
Praise to our victorious King,
Who has washed us in the tide
Flowing from His pierced side.
Alleluia!

He is risen!  (He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!)  Amen to that, dear friends!  All glory, honor, and praise be to God and to the Crucified, Resurrected, and Ascended Lamb, in union with the Holy Spirit, unto the ages of ages!  Alleluia!  In Jesus' Holy and Precious Name.  Amen!

Now the peace of God which passes all understanding keep your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus, unto life everlasting.  Amen.