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“Mary’s Joy”
John 20:1-18
A sermon preached by the Rev. Douglas M. Donley
Easter Sunday
It had been another sleepless night. There had been many sleepless nights in those heady times of the Jesus Movement. Mary and the rest had stayed up long after others had retired talking about what the world could possibly look like.
What if people really started taking Jesus’ words seriously?
What if they stopped being defined by the occupying armies or the restrictive religion of their culture?
What if they started thinking outside the box?
What if all people were part of God’s plan, not just one culture or one race?
What if women were seen as equal to men?
What if people really did sell all they have and give to the poor?
Heck, what if they gave something to the poor? That would be a start.
What if people realized that the kingdoms of this world are by their nature compromised?
What if people really did believe “thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven?”
What if the people actually wanted God’s will to be done on earth?
It all brought tears to their eyes. The tears were tears of joy. Jesus had gotten it. He had delved into the deepest wounds of her generation, spoken to the pain, and affirmed that we do not have to be defined the same way we had been defined before. There was a better way. A fine way. A joyful way. A promising way if we only follow.
So Mary followed. So did hundreds, maybe thousands of others. But Mary was part of the inner circle of a few dozen folks. These were the ones who stayed up late at night dreaming, scheming, planning, praying and working for this new vision.
It wasn’t the only thing that kept them up at night. They also were realistic about what such a movement might cost. It would cost friends. It would cost safety. It would cost predictability. And even Jesus said that anyone who tried to save their lives for the sake of the movement would lose their lives. Were they committed to this even unto death?
Was the joy that they felt worth the ultimate sacrifice? Most days they said yes. It was what they were supposed to say. But inside, many of them feared that they wouldn’t have the guts to follow through. It was too high a cost. Words are easy to say. Actions are another story.
But the last few nights were different.
Mary saw Jesus get whipped, stripped and hung on high. While it shouldn’t have surprised her that he was convicted of contradictory crimes in makeshift and suspect trials, it was hard to see. In one of their late night talks, Jesus had predicted it would happen. He knew where the road he was on led. It led to fear. It led to scapegoating. It led to punishment. Probably even death. Martin Luther King paraphrased Jesus when he said, “If you haven’t discovered something worthy dying for, you haven’t found something worth living for.”
Jesus had said that he could do it as long as he had God’s support. But what he really needed was the support of the people. He also knew that his death wasn’t going to be the end of the story. At least that’s what he was hoping for. You see, it depended upon the people hanging on and moving forward. It depended upon the people being transformed by the joy that was at the heart of the Gospel. That lives on and sustains us long after our earthly lives are over.
Mary saw him being crucified. It was awful, but compounding the brutality was that she watched it knowing that she had seen her friends run away one after another. The people who had pledged their loyalty alongside her were in hiding, afraid to suffer the same fate as Jesus. They who promised never to forsake Jesus or the Gospel he espoused were now gone. And Mary, having seen Jesus killed, was now left with the sad task of anointing his body now that the Sabbath was over. It had been another sleepless night.
She came to the garden alone, according to John’s Gospel. Was it a garden she had been to before? A garden in the spring time is such a place of anticipation and opportunity—that is if you can find it under layers of snow. It is a place of new life. It is a place where you plant your seeds, nurture them and then watch and wait and weed and work until you celebrate the fruits of your labors. It was spring in the garden, but everything seemed as if it were still winter. It was a sad empty time. And Mary had never felt so alone in her life.
You know what happened. She got there and found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. Not only had they killed Jesus. Not only had her friends left her. Not only had the movement died with Jesus now that he and the so-called disciples were gone, but the powers and principalities had stolen Jesus’ body. They denied her the ritual cleansing that a good Jewish person needed for their eternal rest. She couldn’t give him this last gift. Her own catharsis was stolen.
She sat down in the garden and wept.
She wept for all that she had lost.
She wept for the joy that had gone from her.
She wept for the man she loved.
She wept for the vision of a world of justice and mercy and compassion and peace which Jesus sought to inaugurate or at least restore.
She wept for all of it. It felt as though she were weeping for at least seven demons that possessed her grieving soul.
A gardener ventured forth, asking her what was wrong. She poured out her heart to him, or perhaps her rage, or perhaps her disappointment, or perhaps she said nothing more than, “they have taken my master away and I don’t know where he is.”
The gardener then spoke her name. “Mary.”
He spoke her name and then revealed to her the new thing that was being planted in that garden. He spoke of how she was to sow the seeds of hope. Since she had not forsaken Jesus; she had not denied. She had not betrayed. She had not fallen asleep. She had not run for the hills. Because she had remained faithful, he shared with her the promise that would eventually restore or establish her joy. She was to be the gardener, planting the seeds of hope for generations of believers. She was to ensure that the message and the work continued.
Can we imagine what Mary felt on that first Easter in that garden?
Was it joy?
Was it relief?
Was it disbelief? I saw you killed after all. I felt the earthquake. I saw the sky go black. I saw them stab you. I must be dreaming.
Was it anger? How dare you leave us and make us do all the work and probably suffer a death like yours.
Was it happiness? Oh, thank God you’re all right.
Was it confusion? Wait, what does this mean? Are you back for good or are you just making a cameo?
I imagine that Mary felt all of these things. I imagine that she confronted Jesus with all of these things. I bet she asked him a lot of questions—questions we are dying to ask. Is heaven real? Does death hurt? Will you watch over us from now on? What the heck are we supposed to do now?
Jesus answered Mary’s questions. Yes, heaven is real. Yes, I’ll watch over you from now on. You already know what you’re supposed to do. Mary met with the disciples a while later and began the work of establishing an Easter community—a resurrection community—a joyful community—a committed community. We are legacies of Mary’s witness and her joy. Mary told the other disciples the good news that Jesus was alive. Of course they did not believe her. But she didn’t really expect them to. They needed to experience the joy for themselves. They needed to own it. So do we.
This year we have been looking at the question, “Whose Faith is it Anyway?” as we seek to make sense of our role in the story of the Gospel and the story of the resurrected community. In the fall we looked at “Whose Gospel is it Anyway?” In the Advent and Christmas seasons we looked at “Whose Celebration is it Anyway?” In the Epiphany season we looked at “Whose Empire is it Anyway?” During Lent looked at “Whose Terror is it Anyway?” During Pentecost, we’ll look at “Whose Voice is it Anyway?” And now it’s our task in this Easter season to ask “Whose Joy is it Anyway?” As we integrate these questions, we find out what we believe and who we are as followers of the Gospel.
This sermon is entitled, “Mary’s Joy.” I imagine her being filled with joy at the resurrection, but I also imagine the joy came along gradually.
She was a smart woman.
She knew that the road ahead would be tough.
She knew that Jesus would not be with her all the time, at least in a bodily sense.
She knew that people would continue to misunderstand the message of Jesus and even use it to put other people down.
But she also knew that she was connected with great power that she witnessed on that first Easter Sunday.
That power was a power that goes beyond the simple happinesses that we experience from time to time.
There’s a difference between happiness and joy.
Think about it. Happiness is a reaction to a specific event or series of events. It’s a mood or an emotion. But it’s not something that sustains.
I imagine Mary being happy to see Jesus on that first Easter. But joy would take a while.
Joy is a deeper feeling. It’s
something that comes from a wellspring of commitment, on the other side of
trials, tribulations and terror. It’s a
vision for and connection to that power greater than ourselves that can restore
us to sanity. Joy is not always happy, but it does see where we will go and it
moves forward in a positive light.
Think about what is a temporary happiness and what is a joy.
Happiness is jelly beans and peeps on Easter morning.
Joy is in remembering the story and believing that something can be raised up even in you.
Happiness is a really good and uplifting worship service.
Joy is making a commitment to being a disciple of Jesus instead of simply an admirer.
Happiness is winning a ball game.
Joy is helping someone grow into a responsible person who can handle adversity with maturity and determination.
Happiness is a good diagnosis.
Joy is looking at the preciousness of life and making a commitment to making every moment count.
Happiness is getting a good grade.
Joy is sense of satisfaction and confident that spurs you on to continue to do good things.
Happiness is a good performance review.
Joy is a feeling of purpose behind and undergirding our work.
Happiness is a moment of fun or a good laugh.
Joy is a lightness of being that sees the world as a place of opportunity as opposed to simply a place of pain.
Happiness is an electoral victory.
Joy is a sense that we are moving in the right direction.
Happiness is hearing a great and long overdue speech addressing the complexities that vex us about race and alienation.
Joy is taking those words to heart and seeing how closely they merge with the message of Jesus.
Happiness is seeing Jesus again on Easter morning.
Joy is realizing that the movement continues and that each of us is a central part of that movement.
My friends, Jesus back came on Easter in order to give us joy. The joy that Jesus brings is a lot like Mary’s joy.
It comes from a wellspring of questions.
It comes from varying emotions competing with and complementing one another.
It comes from focusing on the message of the Gospel more than the person of Jesus.
It comes from making the commitment to live as Jesus would have us live.
It comes from envisioning that new path of peace and justice and mercy and compassion.
It comes from committing to making Jesus’ dream come true on earth as it is in heaven.
We would not be here were it not for Mary’s joy. As the first witness to the resurrection, she set the stage for the new day that is Easter.
May we enter the rest of this joyful day being more than simply happy. May joy invade and pervade our very lives.
For when that happens the resurrection truly begins.