Focus on the Tears

Focus on the Tears

John 20:1-18

Today is Easter, and we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the victory over sin and death. Today is Easter, and the darkness of Good Friday is chased away by the light of God’s love and grace redeeming us from our sin. Today is Easter, and the old mortal life of Adam is set aside so that we may receive the new eternal life of Jesus Christ.

Today is a day to celebrate, and all around the world Christians are singing “lustily and with a good courage,” as John Wesley instructed us to do. The ashes of Lent have faded and the cross of Jesus stands empty to the sky. The stone that sealed the tomb has been rolled away, and we can see that the tomb is empty. To quote the late songwriter Rich Mullins, today is the day when we affirm that “our God is an awesome God.”

“Awesome” isn’t a word that gets used too much today, perhaps because it was so overused in popular culture over 20 years ago, when everything was “awesome.” But it still shows up every once in a while. I was listening to the radio in my car this past week when I heard a commercial make the audacious claim that “Guys don’t cry – it’s just their awesomeness leaking out.” An example given of when this “awesomeness” might leak out is when a guy looks at his 1968 Mustang GT 428 Cobra Jet, the quickest pure-production car ever made for street drag racing. Many guys would indeed think that is a moment to let some “awesomeness” leak out.

That sales pitch, which I think we can all agree is “tongue in cheek,” has it exactly backwards. We don’t cry because our “awesomeness” has to leak out. We cry for lots of reasons.

When we are little, we cry because we are hungry or wet or frustrated. When we are older, we cry because of the pain of an injury or the pain of a loss. We may cry at the injustice and cruelty of the world, like when you see those humane society public service announcements showing those abused and abandoned animals in need of new homes. And sometimes, if we get old enough, we cry because we are hungry or wet or frustrated.

Some people cry for the purpose of manipulation. We may cry because we know others don’t want us to be sad, so they will do what we want in order to stop our crying. Or, we may manipulate our self, because we feel better after a good cry.

Some people cry when they are happy. They cry at weddings, birthday parties, your kids' school plays, and when friends make up after a minor spat. One psychologist doesn’t call these occasions “crying,” however. Instead, he prefers to call these moments “melting.” We are simply melting in our happiness.

And sometimes, when we are truly paying attention to life, we cry because we are overwhelmed by something that is so awesome it humbles us, even as it fills us with joy.

For example, we may acknowledge that “awesomeness” in those moments when we witness unconditional love or indescribable beauty. We may acknowledge that “awesomeness” in those moments when we are thankful we can finally see in ourselves what someone who loves us has always seen. We may acknowledge that “awesomeness” in those moments when we know just how much it may cost someone to love us, and realize that they freely choose to pay the price.

Jesus on Easter morning fits all those kinds of “awesomeness.” Jesus loves us unconditionally. Jesus sees in us the image of God and a soul of infinite worth. And Jesus paid the price for our sins by his death on the cross so our value could be redeemed. The surprise in the Easter story is not just that Jesus has been raised from the dead, as he said he would. The surprise is that it is only Mary Magdalene who is weeping at the tomb, when it clearly should be all of us.

On that first Easter morning, Mary goes to the tomb, and she weeps. She weeps, though, on her second visit to the tomb that morning. The first time she came, the stone had been rolled away from the entrance of the tomb. There is no good reason she, or anyone else for that matter, can think of for the stone to be rolled away. Mary must have looked inside the tomb, because when she returns to Simon Peter and the other disciple she reports “they have taken away the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”

Kavod hamet, which means “showing proper respect to the dead,” has always been a deeply-rooted tradition within the Jewish people. It is for this reason that there are Jewish laws against autopsy. There is the requirement of a speedy burial. This concern for the proper respect for the dead extends even to the waiver of various rabbinic restrictions against working on the Sabbath to insure proper care of the dead. There are rituals of bathing the body and dressing it in shrouds. There are various laws concerning the respect that must be shown in a cemetery. And finally, there are laws limiting the removal of corpses or bones.

To find an open and empty tomb would be the sign of the ultimate disrespect for Jesus. It didn’t matter if you agreed or disagreed with someone, or if you loved them or you hated them, you were to never show disrespect for someone after they were dead.

Peter and the other disciple rush to the tomb to check out this unconscionable report from Mary. After inspecting the tomb, they leave without saying a word to her. It may be that there are no words that can be said that will counter the disrespect they believed to have been shown towards Jesus.

It is then that we are told that Mary weeps, and there is nothing awesome about this moment. Complicating this moment is a custom of that day that is largely unknown today. Little vials were used to collect the tears of the mourners at funerals. The thinking was that the more tears collected, the more love there was for the person who had passed on. Out of a misplaced concern for who would be missed the most because they were loved the most, some families went so far as to hire mourners to insure that there would be more tears to be collected.

But on this morning, Mary is just one person who loved Jesus, and she is weeping, but she isn’t saving the tears. Her crying would have been considered a waste. That is the question those first century hearers would have asked, put in the mouth of the angels: “Woman, why are you weeping?” Mary’s loss and frustration come pouring out in her answer: “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”

There is a shift revealed in what Mary says to the angel. It is identical to what she said to Peter and the other disciple, except for two words. The first time she said “the Lord”; the second time she says “my Lord.” The first time she said “we do not know”; the second time she says “I do not know.” The first time her eyes were dry; the second time her eyes are filled with tears. The first time the loss is shared and diffused; the second time the pain is hers and hers alone.

There is one more shift that takes place in the cemetery garden. When the angels do not answer Mary, she turns and encounters someone who, through her tears, looks like the cemetery gardener. The question is asked again: “Woman, why are you weeping?” Mary again shares her loss, and then we get this shift that makes today Easter morning.

Jesus calls Mary by name, and a personal connection is made. Now her tears are all about awesomeness leaking out into the world. The first fissure in the undefeatable wall of death has appeared because Jesus has been raised from the dead. The insurmountable wall that had separated us from God was crumbling to the ground so that we can enter into the eternal life of heaven. The love that was able to bear the cross is revealed to be strong enough to bear new life into this world and into the next.

Mary receives this love, and it both humbles her and fills her with joy. Jesus then commissions Mary Magdalene to be the first apostle, the first person who is “sent out” to share the good news that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead, and that he has restored the relationship between us and God. Her crying of tears will become the crying out of the good news. And it is this encounter with the Risen Lord that makes today Easter morning.

If this is your first time to experience Easter, you may be like Mary Magdalene on her first trip to the tomb. You may have questions like she had, such as “how was the stone rolled away?” and “where is the body?” If that is the case, then today may be more about confusion and chaos and uncomfortable talk about life and death, than it is about faith and celebration and resurrection. And that is OK. Talking with Peter and other disciple didn’t help Mary on her first trip, either.

But if this is your second time, it may be that the time has come for you to have a good cry. It may be time to let go of the stresses of this world, to let go of the confusions and frustrations, and simply cry out that you can’t go through this life alone and apart from God. It may be that today is the day to receive the joy of eternity. It may be time for you to accept just how much Jesus loves you, and how much Jesus has done for you, and to be overwhelmed by that love. Even if the angels seem mute, Jesus is waiting to call you by name and to assure you of his great love for you.

If today is your Easter morning, your time to know that Jesus has defeated sin and death, your time to know that Jesus did all this for you, then I invite you to come to the altar rail. Come as the congregation sings our next hymn. Come and kneel, and call Jesus “my Lord and Savior.” And don’t worry about being embarrassed if you start to cry, because many of us will be crying with you. Some moments are just too awesome to not let it leak out!

Today is Easter, and we who believe celebrate the resurrection of Jesus Christ, the victory over sin and death.

UMH 702 “Sing With All the Saints in Glory”