We open the Gospel today with Mary Magdalene approaching the tomb alone in the early hours of the morning, only to find it empty.  And immediately she runs to tell the disciples:

We know one was Peter.  We don’t know who the other disciple was.

You can just picture them perhaps making eye contact, expressing for just a moment, their shock and surprise, and then dropping whatever they were doing, and jumping up in all urgency to run and see for themselves what Mary was talking about.

The elusive faithful, unnamed disciple arrives there first and looks into the cave, but doesn’t go in.  Then Peter arrives behind him and we imagine that he pauses warily at the opening before entering the tomb first.

If we enter with him, we can see Peter walking over to the spot where Jesus was laid.  We don’t know what Peter said.  We are not told anything about it. 
I suspect that in the shock of what he was seeing, he remained silent throughout the whole encounter, as he let his eyes absorb what was before him. We read that he noticed the linens, and that the one covering Jesus’ head had been rolled up, and placed separate by itself. 

 I imagine Peter, in a state of shock, still emotionally raw from the events preceeding this moment, helpless to explain what happened; just taking it all in.   I imagine him picking up the linen wrappings, and holding them in his hands, just staring at them, silent confusion on his face, perhaps an intake of breath as he backs around, scanning the interior of the empty tomb.

Then it tells us that the other disciple went in and saw and believed.  Some people understand this statement to mean that he believed Jesus had been resurrected, but then in the next line we read “for as yet, they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.” 
I think that what the disciple believed was not that Christ had risen, but that his body had been taken away as Mary had claimed.

What shock.  What devastation.  What insult added to injury it must have been for them. 

And so the two disciples leave, perhaps quietly and at a loss for words.  Broken.  Lost. Dejected.  If it wasn’t over before, with the cruel and humiliating death of their leader, it was certainly over now with this new insult.  Here was the moment of truth.  All that their teacher had taught them was over.  The movement received its final blow.  Defeated, they returned home.

But Mary stayed behind, alone in her grief, perhaps not knowing what to do with herself.  Perhaps still not able to believe and absorb what her own eyes told her.  And then, in all her pain, and perhaps because of it, she was compelled to bend down and look into the tomb one more time.  And when she did, she saw something different and unexpected.

There were  two angels sitting almost casually in the place that would have been the head and feet of Jesus.  You can almost hear the casual curiosity in their attitude, as they ask her why she’s weeping?  Surely, they knew why ……..
In this reading of the Gospel of John, the angels don’t respond to her answer.  In the other ones, they do.  And although each of the accounts differs slightly, in every instance, Mary Magdalene and the angels are the common thread, ever present in the story and in conversation with each other.   

They are the divine witnesses, the angelic messengers who are present alongside the human witnesses giving testimony to the resurrection for those who seek this truth. 

And so when she straightens up, and turns around, Jesus is there standing behind her, but she doesn’t know who he is.  She thinks he’s the gardener.  And he too asks her why she’s weeping?  And for whom she is looking? 

Then they have this little conversation, where she asks him if he has taken away the body of her Lord, and if so, to please tell her where it is, and she will take it away herself – She will assume responsibility for it.   

And it’s at that moment when he speaks her name:  “Mary.”- that she enters into a different reality.  A different experience.  A new encounter that defies all that she knew to be true only moments before.  

What was it about Jesus that in his appearance, he looked so completely different that she didn’t recognize him? 
We aren’t told.  Perhaps in her grief, she wasn’t prepared to see the wonderful, incredible truth that stood before her.  Or perhaps made new, he really was changed in a way that cannot be described. 

But one thing is for certain:  She knew his voice when he spoke her name. 

She must have reached out to hug him, and may have succeeded, perhaps not wanting to let go and to keep him all to herself.  But he tells her not to hold on because he is not yet ascended.   She needs to let him go. 

But he has a message for her and for the others: I am ascending to my father and your father.  My God and your God.  And so, this first witness leaves to bring word to the disciples.   Something wonderful and incredible has happened. 

If you read through the different Gospel accounts, Mary’s experience is not unlike that of the other experiences the disciples have of the risen Christ.  

Not unlike ourselves, the people then did not typically see that he that he was alive and in their midst, even though they had known him personally.  Not unlike us, many remained frozen in their grief, until something happened to catch their attention – to touch their hearts – to re-awaken the familiarity of his loving presence.  A presence that brought life changing hope to the devastating reality they had experienced.  A presence that still today, changes lives.

I said last week, for those of you that were not here, that the story of Christ’s passion and death is our story -----  That it is not about some alien characters we read about from the distant past. 

I also said that the death of Christ, only completed the first half of the whole story. 

I said that although as a Christian community, we are called to help bear one another’s crosses, that the cross in its own particular incarnation needs to also be understood as a place to which we must all journey at some point in our lives.   

The question asked by the angels …..

…. the question asked by Christ ….

………. invite and prompt us to move beyond our present devastations, whatever they are, to a new way of being. 

A new reality.  

A new and joyful encounter with God – both here and now, and in the world to come. 

This is the mystery of the cross. 

This is the mystery of God’s saving action in the world. 

This is the place where the human meets the divine. 

In its great irony, this is the place of hope and promise that if we too dare but to approach, will bring new life.   

men