March 31, 2024 – Easter – The Resurrection of The Lord

Mother Elizabeth Farr

“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark. . .”

We are told that these are the conditions as Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb where Jesus’ body has been laid

Mary has waited through the Sabbath and has come as early as she can to attend to Jesus’ body and the place of his burial.

I don’t know about any of you, but I make no secret of the fact that I am not a morning person. Give me the company of the owls in the night. I am happy to leave the worms to the early birds.

But morning people or not, we all know the feeling of our senses adjusting to a new day. Hearing the sounds of those early birds, even if we’re not quite ready to join their chorus. The smell of coffee brewing. The shock of coolness on our skin as we remove the weight of the covers. And the shadows and shapes of our world coming into focus as the world turns from night to day.

Mary Magdalene’s senses are adjusting as she arrives at the tomb – and even more so, because this is not just any other morning. This is a morning that is shrouded in grief. We might imagine that Mary is still wearing the clothes that she had on the day before – maybe even the clothes that she’s been wearing since Friday.

Mary is here before dawn – not because she is a morning person – but because she has been keeping watch with the owls. Her eyes are heavy with the lack of sleep and still stained by her tears. Mary’s thoughts are loud with lament, and her heart aches.

Her senses are still adjusting to a world that has killed her Lord. To a world that has silenced her Teacher. Mary is at the tomb before dawn because there is no explanation she can sense as to why Jesus is in a tomb.

On this first day of the week, while it is still dark, violence, death, grief, and confusion are Mary’s lenses on the world.

These lenses sound familiar.

I think about the past week – a week that began in this community with a funeral for long-time parishioner Ralph Booker – who otherwise would be sitting right there in his familiar pew and seat this morning.

I think about the collapse of the bridge in Maryland. The tragedy of lives lost as they worked and watched through the night as others slept. I recognize that we might describe our tender world as a series of collapsing bridges. Of disintegrating connections. Of determined efforts to destroy connections to the most vulnerable and the least of these.

We share Mary’s lenses on the world this morning – and we join Mary in the garden with our senses in disarray.

Mary cannot imagine finding anything but death on this dark morning. She anxiously seeks the body of Jesus. The sorrow of her soul needs to be near the spices and shroud that cover his body: “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him!”

Mary proclaims this first to her fellow disciples, then to the angels in the tomb, and finally, to the gardener. Her eyes cannot allow that it is anyone other than the gardener.

The death-dealing of the world has so tuned her sight, and so Resurrection speaks to her other senses. “Mary,” Jesus says. “Rabbouni!” she replies, and with this one exchange, death is swallowed up. The tears on Mary’s cheeks burn with joy instead of grief. Today is not only the first day of the week but the first day of the new creation.

Jesus stands before Mary changed but alive – a testament that every place of violence in the world, every sting of death, every valley of grief, and every pit of confusion is being transformed. None of these have the last word. Resurrection rules the day, and Alleluia! is the song of creation – even at the grave.

Jesus calls Mary by name, and her senses are awakened to a new reality. Jesus sends Mary to go and share the news, and Jesus knows that it will take time and practice for his followers to engage the world with resurrection senses. With ears and eyes and hands ready to witness new life.

This is the first morning of Easter, but it is not the last. We have 50 days to mark this season. 50 days to tune our resurrection senses, and the Risen Christ will continue to show up.

Jan Richardson is a favorite writer of mine, and she puts it this way:

All you need to remember
is how it sounded
when you stood
in the place of death
and heard the living
call your name. (1)

Because if we, like Mary Magdalene, can remember how it sounded on this morning – on this first day of the week – on this first day of the new creation – then we will also remember the next time we are standing in the place of death.

The next time we are standing in the place of grief or violence or confusion. The next time we are standing where the bridge of connection has collapsed. We will remember how it sounded to have the living call our name.

And we will not be surprised that the Risen Christ is standing in that place with us and calling our name still – assuring us and all of creation that those things which were cast down are being raised up, and things which had grown old are being made new, and that all things are being brought to their perfection by him through whom all things were made. (2)

“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark. . .”
Alleluia. Christ is Risen.

The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

(1) Jan Richardson, The Magdalene’s Blessing.
(2) The Great Vigil of Easter, p. 291.

Year B  –  Easter – The Resurrection of The Lord   –   March 31, 2024   –  The Rev. Elizabeth Langford Farr