Just showing up - and Resurrection

Mary.

He called her by name

– and she knew the voice, the friend who had spoken.

It wasn’t just that he knew her name

– it was that he knew her.

From grief

to utter confusion to tenderness.

From being alone

to being known, called, remembered. 

Mary Magdalene showed up.

A woman whom, we are told, Jesus had freed from 7 demons.

And she expressed her thanks

by showing up again, and again.

Mary knew the agony of grief.

No doubt she knew about the betrayal

the denial

the running away.

She showed up in the hardest parts of the story;

She was there at the foot of the cross with Jesus’ mother.

She was there when they placed his body in the cave

She was there when they rolled the stone in front of it.

Mary knew about violence and pain and grief and loneliness.

Whatever her demons had been, this was real too.

Friday, we too stood at this cross

as we placed sprigs of lavender and rosemary

in prayer for others.

Some came with tears, and others in hope

or in despair or desperation or a quiet stillness.

To follow Jesus is to stand at the cross,

In the midst of evil and suffering.

To be present to it.

To weep for ourselves and for others.

For mothers murdered in front of their children in our own city

For children stabbed by their fathers in places where we holiday

For families ripped apart by war

… and then ripped apart again as they seek refuge among us.

To weep for and stand with people who need to be freed from whatever demons or addictions or illness may hold them.

That’s Mary’s discipleship.

Because that’s where God shows up.

And then, like Mary, to show up

the next day

and the next.

Maybe not sure why …

except just to be present, to pray.

Mary showed up at the tomb,

expecting that this violence,

this tragedy

would continue.

It was after the Sabbath

when she sees the empty cave.

Someone has taken His body …

More grief, more agony, more tears.

She still runs back to Peter;

‘They have taken him, and we don’t know…’

There is a hurry to get to the tomb …

minds and hearts racing.

One looks … maybe afraid to go in.

Peter goes straight inside.

Seeing only the linen wrappings lying there

they walk home.

The hurry is over.

Mary shows up, again.

Back to the tomb. Again.

Maybe not sure why.

But that is Mary’s discipleship.

And then ...

"Mary"

Her name on his breath.

Spoken in a way that only he could.

With all the knowing

and all the tenderness

and all the care of the one who knew

all about her demons …

and knew her free of them.

Three have seen the empty tomb …

One stops for longer

to be named,

to be called,

to be known.

We also have inklings, glimpses,

things that take our breath away.

Moments when resurrection says, “a new thing is happening.”

hours where we know we believe more than anything else

that

Christ is risen.

And that, like Mary we can turn up.

And in those glimpses, those inklings,

our name is on his resurrected breath

inviting us to belong

inviting us to participate.

Here

Now

with his name on our breath.

And when we, like Mary Magdalene show up in the place of pain

and violence

and evil

and suffering,

We also stand in the place of …resurrection.

And with his name on our breath

We say

“death is not the last word.
Violence is not the last word.
Hate is not the last word.
Money is not the last word.
Intimidation is not the last word.
Political power is not the last word.
Condemnation is not the last word.
Betrayal and failure are not the last word.
No: each of them are left like rags in a tomb,

And from that tomb,
Arises Christ,
Alive.” *

Christ is risen.

He is risen. 

Indeed!

++++++++++++++++++++++ 

My thanks to Arnie Weiringa, Jennie Gordon (http://greaterfarthantongueorpen.wordpress.com/),

Nadia Bolz-Weber (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2012/07/sermon-about-mary-magdalen-the-masacre-in-our-town-and-defiant-alleluias/),

*Brian McLaren (http://brianmclaren.net/archives/blog/a-prayer-for-pastors-on-easter.html)

Who is this? (Palm Sunday and a Baptism)

Several years ago I joined my sister for a church service in Japan.  It was December and Winter – a white Christmas was to follow. I was in a country where I didn’t understand the language, let alone the street signs. In church that Sunday, I had no idea what was being said or sung or prayed.  But when a young woman came forward, knelt at the front and was baptised – I knew exactly what was happening.  Matthew 28.19 was being lived out and this young person was being welcomed into my family. Our family.

Angels and people hold their breath in awe as another person is baptised and welcomed into this huge, complex family: Baptised into the family of Jesus Christ, the church of God that expresses its life, witness and service in every corner of the world, ever since that first Christmas, that first Palm Sunday, Good Friday, that first Resurrection day and first Pentecost.

So today, Sarah is both this tiny dot in a very large ocean of people, AND the centre of attention of God’s people. 

Baby Sarah.  Who is she?

Obviously a daughter, Grand-daughter and niece and cousin.

Cutie, chatterbox, wriggler and giggler.

Her parents already know that she is the very best gift they have ever received … and the most frustrating human being in the universe.  They already know that she will grow to be a young woman with her own opinions and perspectives (Exclamation mark!!!).  They now know that a whole congregation has committed itself, with them, to raise her in Christian faith with them as parents.  And they know that they have done so on behalf of millions of others around the world.

Today, all around the world, Christians will celebrate Palm Sunday.  

They will do so in hundreds of different languages;
They will be out in the streets of their towns in South America in processions waving palm branches,
Hunkered down in cold cathedrals as spring starts to make its presence felt in Northern Europe,
Sweating in mud-brick buildings in Kenya,
Or speaking in quiet voices in lounges or cellars in Turkey

-       all of them joining in a huge chorus of voices singing “Hosanna”. 

This is the family that Sarah has been baptised into.

These people will also join us as we step tentatively into this week, the days leading up to Good Friday and Easter Sunday, to listen again to the stories;

of Mary and perfume and anointing;

of washing feet and love;

of bread broken and wine poured;

of Judas and betrayal;

of Peter and denial;

of a garden and light and darkness and whips and spears and crosses and nails and … that final, chilling cry, “It is finished”.

They too will hold their breath … or go about their daily tasks with that nagging hope that the story isn’t over.

And then.

And then on Sunday, many will rise early and, still half asleep, slope again into cathedrals and mud huts and on beaches and lake-fronts and lounges to hear the astounding story of an empty tomb and resurrection and Mary and Peter … and “yes it is true”. Life has triumphed over death; hate can never defeat love.  They will join their voices with millions of others around the world and over centuries to shout “He is Risen; Christ is risen indeed.”

This is the beginning of Holy Week – the Holiest of weeks – the week that this Christian faith is all about – the one central story that binds us together around the world and through many centuries.

“This week is the most beautiful and the most important of the Church’s year. It is the drama of our salvation and our life. It is also a week of profound renewal. We renew our baptismal life because we see again the battle that God in Christ wins against all the powers of darkness and destruction in our world and in our lives. We know that our baptism makes us participators in his victory and so we have the courage to follow him on his journey and to contemplate the mystery of his love for us.” prayasyougo

This is the story that Sarah was baptised into.

All around the world in churches, some will be here for the first time, hearing the story fresh and new.  Others will hear it for the hundredth time.  And wherever the story is retold and relived there are tears, and anger and a wondering. "Would I be Peter or Judas or Thomas or Mary?"

Some who gather will mumble and doubt and puzzle, and wonder if they will be back next year.  But they said that last year too, and something … something in the story brought them back ... a whispering and a nagging that somehow nothing else has come as close to making any sense of the mess that they see around them.  Their doubt is carried by love and community and someone else’s faith and curiosity and a flicker of … maybe, just maybe …

And in all the stories is this one remarkable man.  Jesus goes to Jerusalem knowing that this will probably mean his death.  And the city is abuzz. This royal, political, religious city and its people ask the question, “Who is this?”  And the crowd, who come from the country and other towns and nations, the crowds reply, as if with one voice, “This is the prophet Jesus from Nazareth in Galilee.”

In this week, of all weeks, we are reminded that God’s way is not our way. We expect to see celebrity and superhero. But the way of this One is not about force or coersion or power.  In Jesus Christ we see God in a different way; a way of humility and powerlessness – and yet of immense strength and love. It is what someone would later call “the foolishness of the cross”. His is a love so deep and strong and free that it can hold all doubt and fear and hopelessness. He is even prepared to take on death – the ultimate power.  

And then?  Then comes resurrection – not a logical conclusion or predictable outcome – but a mystery, an ultimate victory and God’s greatest act - in Jesus.

Humility, Death, Resurrection

Faith, hope and love.

Who is this?

This is the One into whom Sarah has been baptised;

Joining this family, to live this story, and to follow this Jesus Christ.