I Have Seen the Lord!

Jesu Juva

St. John 20:1-18                                                                    

April 17, 2022

The Resurrection of Our Lord              

Dear saints of our Savior~

Alleluia!  Christ is risen! . . . He is risen indeed!  Alleluia!

          I have seen the Lord!  With those words from the mouth of Mary Magdalene, Easter was unleashed.  Those words changed everything!  Without those words—without that proclamation—without the telling of that good news—the resurrection of Jesus would have been but a private affair involving only a select few followers.  But with those words, I have seen the Lord! Easter was unleashed to the ends of the earth.

          I have seen the Lord!  Those words started it all.  Every Easter sermon you’ve ever heard.  Every time you’ve stood at the graveside with the resurrection of Jesus as the beating heart of all your hope and joy.  You can trace that sweet comfort all the way back to Mary Magdalene.  She was the first.  Before Peter, James, or John would preach that Christ is risen—and long before Paul would preach that death has been swallowed up in victory—a woman named Mary declared:  I have seen the Lord!

          Mary Magdalene was no pastor—no preacher.  Mary was no apostle.  But as one church father said of her:  Mary was “the apostle to the apostles.”  She was the one who first brought the joyful news of Jesus’ resurrection to the men who would carry that good news to the ends of the earth.  Luther wrote:  This is something to ponder, that the Lord first appeared to Mary Magdalene, and it is something to consider that He first appeared to a woman.  It is a great comfort that women are the type of those who hear the gospel.  In these women there is a great unconquerable strength from the Word that stands firm against all the assaults of Satan. 

          Luther saw in Mary Magdalene a “great, unconquerable strength;” but that strength wasn’t so apparent in the predawn hours of that first Easter Sunday.  St. John gives us unique details about that morning—details that don’t emerge from the pen of Matthew, Mark, or Luke.  Mary was a devoted follower of Jesus.  Mary was a devoted supporter of Jesus, helping cover expenses for Jesus and the Twelve from her own means.  Mary Magdalene knew the wonder-working power of Jesus first hand.  For from Mary Jesus had once cast out seven demons.

          I’d like to think that Mary was an early-riser like me—that she was habitually up before the dawn’s early light.  But perhaps it’s more likely that she was up early because she couldn’t sleep—because sleep eluded her—because her heart had been shattered with pain and grief.  You see, Mary had been there on Good Friday.  When most of the other followers of Jesus had fled for safety, Mary Magdalene was there at the cross.  Nails, thorns, and spear could not deter her devotion to Jesus.  Mary made her way to the tomb early that morning because—in her grief—what else could she do?

          We’ve walked that same road of sleepless nights of sorrow.  We, too, have traveled to the graveside.  We’ve walked through the cemetery where every monument and marker stands as a tribute to the terrible truth that the wages of sin is death.  The soul that sins shall die.  But death comes not by God’s design.  Death was not a part of our Creator’s plan for His creation.  Death is an unwanted intruder.  Death is unnatural.  Death is the enemy—the last enemy to be destroyed.

          But Mary’s trip to the tomb was unlike any other.  Imagine her shock at seeing the stone rolled away from the entrance to the tomb.  She immediately goes to get Peter and John, who come running.  John, the younger, runs faster, but only peeks into the tomb.  Peter, the older, runs slower, but boldly barges right into the tomb to discover that the body of Jesus is gone.  And then Peter and John depart the tomb almost as quickly as they arrived—almost like they were fleeing the scene of a crime.  (Perhaps that’s what they thought!)  And Easter could have ended there, with just an empty tomb.  But an empty tomb proves nothing.  It’s cold comfort.  An empty tomb could be bad news, just as easily as good news.

          But Mary—quite contrary—stays at the tomb.  When the others leave, Mary stays.  Mary persists at the scene.  She had to know.  Locating her Lord—dead or alive—was all that mattered to Mary at that point.  When two angels ask her why she’s weeping, she answers:  They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.  And even when a man whom she supposes to be the gardener asks her the reason for her tears, she again inquires about the location of her Lord.  Where is He?  She had to know. 

          And then comes one of the most touching scenes in the entire New Testament.  The Great Good Shepherd—the One who calls His sheep by name—He simply says:  Mary.  And in hearing those syllables from the Lord’s lips, Mary knows.  Christ is risen!  It’s a reminder that the Risen Christ knows you by name, as well.  It’s a reminder that this Jesus, who has destroyed death, will call you (by name) from your grave on the day of resurrection.

          In Albrecht Dürer’s depiction of this scene on the cover of today’s bulletin, it’s interesting that Jesus actually looks like the gardener.  He’s carrying a shovel

for crying out loud!  He’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat to keep himself cool from the warm rays of the rising sun.  But if you look closely at what Dürer gives us, there’s no doubt that this is the Lord.  Look at His hand.  Look at His foot.  Those nail holes are the identifying marks of Jesus Himself.  By those wounds we are healed.  In those wound is our forgiveness.  The risen Christ is the same Christ who was crucified, died, and was buried.  The Jesus who was crucified for our sins is the same Jesus who rose from the dead to open the kingdom of heaven for all believers.

          And Mary is the first one to witness this—the first one to see and embrace the risen Lord.  To Mary is given the high and holy privilege of taking this great good news to the other fearful followers of Jesus.  With joy, she can’t help but confess:   I have seen the Lord. 

          God’s ways are higher than our ways; His thoughts are higher than ours.  God’s priorities are not our priorities either.  Let’s face it, if you or I had written or directed the events of that first Easter morning, Mary certainly wouldn’t have been the one we would have cast as the first to encounter the risen Christ.  Mary hadn’t made any headlines up to this point.  We would have expected one of the Apostles or, if it had to be a woman, then Mary the mother of Jesus.  (That would have been something!)  But this is grace:  Jesus reaches down low to the one who appears to be the least of His followers and makes her the greatest—lifts her from obscurity to center stage—makes her the apostle to the apostles—honors her as the very first eyewitness of the very best news to ever be proclaimed by human lips:  I have seen the Lord!

          Mary Magdalene wasn’t a pastor.  She wasn’t ordained.  She wasn’t even a widely recognized leader among the disciples.  She likely was not the best educated or the most articulate follower of Jesus.  But because she had seen the risen Lord, nothing could stop her.  Nothing could deter the joy she had in telling the good news that Jesus Christ is risen from the dead.

          You too have encountered the risen Lord.  This is the place where Jesus Christ comes to meet you.  It’s why we gather here early in the morning, on every first day of the week.  Here we celebrate a “little Easter” every Sunday.  Here the risen Christ speaks to you as His promises are preached and proclaimed.  Here the risen Christ appears to you in the bread that is His body and in the wine that is His blood—bringing you the forgiveness of sins. 

          In the two thousand years since that first Easter morning, the Easter gospel has gone from Mary’s lips to the ears and hearts of people around the world.  And yet, there are people who live on this very block for whom Easter is little more than an excuse to overindulge in chocolate bunnies and jelly beans. And down through the centuries there’s been one technique that has worked better than all the rest for bringing outsiders inside the church.  It’s not flashy signs or wonderful websites.  No, what brings the outsiders in is when ordinary followers of Jesus—as ordinary as Mary of Magdala—invite them to come along. 

          Who, me?  You might not feel qualified.  You might not feel equipped to invite someone along to our weekly Easter observances.  I’m sure Mary didn’t feel qualified.  But God never calls the qualified.  He calls us—calls us by name in the water of Holy Baptism.  And then He sends us out to do the work of our callings and vocations.  And we do it all in light of the resurrection.  We know how this story ends.  We know that because Christ lives, we shall live also.  We know that our labor in the Lord is not in vain.  Thanks be to God who gives us the victory!  Alleluia, Christ is risen . . . He is risen indeed, alleluia!

          In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.