Resurrection Life

Text: John 20.1-2, 11-18
Other texts: Ruth, Exodus

The motto of some one of our partner churches is “reformed and always reforming.” This is to make clear that though the church came out of the Reformation in the 1500s, God continues to work in the life of the church today and every day. God’s ongoing presence in the life of the institution of the church is a good thing to consider from time to time. But more immediately and closer to home is to consider God’s ongoing presence in each of our own individual lives and the life of the world. And when we do that, we might adopt the motto: “transformed and always transforming.”

In one sense, transformation is just a synonym for change. And we are always changing. Being adaptable sorts of creatures, we react to things around us, including especially people, and so change is built into us. About to cross the intersection, and noticing that the car barreling down the street at us is going to run the red light, we change our plans. But we usually mean transformed to mean changed in a big way, even a fundamental way. It is said of New England weather that if you don’t like it, wait a bit and it will change. You would probably not say the weather was transformed from cloudy to partly sunny. You might say, though, that if every summer day in New England was like yesterday, 72 degrees and not too humid—California weather—you might then claim that the weather had been transformed.

Change is common, but it is not always welcome. And transformation less so. We may not exactly like where we are now, but leaving here and going there is not something we automatically long for. And if something makes us do that—if change is from necessity and not from desire—then it makes us even more grumpy. Change can be great, and we can see it as renewal and life-giving. But people can see change as death as well as they see change as resurrection. Or, they can’t see it at all.

The passage today from the Gospel of John is the story of the discovery of an empty tomb that was supposed to be occupied by the body of Jesus. It was not what Peter and another disciple expected, and it was not what Mary Magdalene expected, either. But Peter and the other disciple, John, reports, “did not understand the scripture, that [Jesus] must rise from the dead.” And so “then the disciples returned to their homes.” Too much of a surprise for them to handle, I think. Time to go home.

But Mary hangs around the tomb. Good thing, it turns out. She sees a man whom she does not quite recognize. It is Jesus. We know that, but she thinks he might be the gardener. And she thinks they have carried Jesus away. She cannot fathom anything else. What would it mean if Jesus were not here because he had been raised from the dead? It is nearly impossible to contemplate. Hard to get your head around. What Mary sees is a mistake in procedure, and she offers to fix it: Tell me where the body is and I’ll carry it to somewhere more suitable. She must have been strong in body to consider carrying the dead weight of the corpse and strong in mind as well.

Sometimes change is welcome. Sometimes we long for a new life. For new health and a new future. When we are stuck in sorrow or grief, when we continually find ourselves doing the same old thing, but not wanting to, or not doing the thing we most desire. Then change is resurrection. The days ahead are never just today repeated over and over again. The future is not the same as the past. We can be given a new life no more trapped in old patterns, not destined for regret and shame, and not forever longing.

When Jesus calls Mary by name, she realizes that things are a lot different than she thought. A change that could be called a transformation. Something new has been revealed about life and death in general and about Jesus’ ongoing connection with Mary in particular. But not totally new. Jesus is not some alien from outer space or a spirit presence. This is Jesus, her friend and teacher. Rabbouni! She calls him. This name is a sign of affection as much as it is of respect. It’s like: “My dear rabbi,” to be old-fashioned. Or “It’s my man, the rabbi.” A greeting you might give to an old teacher or mentor, respectful but maybe a little familiar. Mary knows. This guy is Jesus.

Not totally new, but not quite the same, either. She goes to hug him. Not a good idea, he says to her. Something is different, something has changed. This is Jesus, but a transformed Jesus.

Our lives are rarely changed in an instant. Even an encounter with Jesus takes time to work its way through us. Healing and recovery unfold little by little. Renewal is both created in time and revealed over time.

For most of us, transformation starts with an encounter with another person. An encounter that is emotionally powerful. We are transformed when we are loved by someone. As Moses was changed in today’s reading from an abandoned slave child to a member of the royal family of Egypt. Moses was changed by the love given him by Pharaoh’s daughter. We are transformed when we love someone else. As Ruth was changed from a gentile in Moab to a Jew in Bethlehem. Ruth was changed by her love for Naomi.

And we are transformed by God’s love for us and our love for God. As Mary was, and the disciples were to be, and as I’m sure Jesus was. By his love for them and by their love for him, by his encounter with Mary, with the other disciples, and now with us.

Being a follower of Jesus changed the disciples as it changes us. Jesus becomes a lens through which we try to see the world and our actions in it, a guide when we try to decide what to do next, and a comfort when we need a human-sized God next to us.

Our theology says that the resurrection of Jesus changed the world. How it does that is something that the theologians can ponder. But it was the resurrection experience that powered the growth of the early church. It certainly powered Paul’s missions.

Mary was the first apostle, the first person to see Jesus after his resurrection. What the resurrection of Jesus taught her and the first Christians and us is not so much that Jesus in particular could be raised from the dead but that anybody could. Not that only Jesus could be resurrected, but that resurrection is a part of life, built into the human experience.

Christianity at its core is a religion of healing and restoration. There is no dead end. There is no end to renewal and rebirth. There is no end of possibility. We are a resurrection church. For followers of Jesus, transformation is not only possible, it is inevitable.