Childlike

This sermon was heard at the First Presbyterian Church in Berryville, Arkansas on Sunday April 4, 2010, Easter/Resurrection of the Lord Sunday.

Isaiah 65:17-25
Psalm 118:1-2, 14-24
Acts 10:34:43
John 20:1-18

May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our rock and our redeemer. Amen.

The Reverend Randy Cross is a clergy member of the United Methodist Church’s Dakotas Conference serving as District Superintendent of the Lower James River District, Director of Connectional Ministries, and Director of Leadership Development for the Dakotas. He also writes curriculum for the United Methodist Publishing House from his home in Mitchell, South Dakota. It is in this latter role where he tells this story:

Preparing youth to do a sunrise service is a terrible joy. I use the oxymoron “terrible joy” because the work is so hard and the event so important. The task of helping youth understand the seriousness and the joy of receiving the news of resurrection on Easter often drives pastors and youth leaders to distraction on the days before Easter. I remember one year when I had a group of funny, entertaining youth. Throughout the rehearsal for the service, the more I tried to get them to focus, the more they flew off into their imagination to the four corners of the earth. In frustration and exhaustion, I finally ended the rehearsal early and wished them all good luck on Easter. I hoped they would not embarrass themselves and their families by not being prepared. Like Pontius Pilate, I washed my hands of them. It was not the way I had hoped to prepare for Easter Day.

When Easter morning came I dreaded the first event. I hoped no one would show up and that the ill-prepared service would fade into oblivion. It was a particularly nice morning, and the sunrise service had twice as many people as usual in it. All I could see was a gathering darkness. I tried to look into the eyes of the youth before the service, but I saw no hint of fear or concern. I resigned myself to a bad experience. Everyone appeared to be in place for their various leadership roles.

I looked up front and saw our “lead off” youth at the pulpit. He was one of the youngest members of the group and was in charge of the Easter greeting. As the lights came up, he yelled at the top of his squeaky, high boy-soprano voice, “Christ is risen!” Laughter bellowed from the members of the congregation because they did not expect that sound. Quiet again, he continued, “Christ is risen!” Finally people began to hear the muffled sounds of the youth up front who were responding to the ancient Easter greeting with “He is risen indeed.” It was a quiet, sleepy rising; but the words were exchanged. However, the youth leader was not satisfied. He yelled again, “Christ is risen!” The congregation responded, “He is risen indeed.” Over and over again came the yell from the pulpit as the congregation’s voice grew louder and more enthusiastic. Finally, at the last, the sound was so thundering between the speaker and the smiling faces of the worshipers that it could have almost rolled a stone away. Easter had come, and the announcement of new life had been shared with a squeaky voice that would not be silent until the world had responded.[1]

What strikes me about this story is the truth it contains; a child did lead them. One of the youngest members of this youth group, this boy soprano, a child did lead them.

This Easter passage has been read for over 1900 years by and to the people of God. But the take on the actions of Peter and the beloved disciple offered by the Reverend John Stendahl[2] offers a new point of view on their actions. Pastor Stendahl offers the opinion that these disciples behave far more like boys than men when Mary Magdalene came to them after finding the empty tomb.

Imagine two boys, cut from the mold of Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, hearing of the disappearance of the crucified Christ and racing to the tomb. It’s the beloved disciple and the rock upon which the church will be built racing like little boys to the scene of the crime.

Pastor Stendahl makes the point of using these titles quite intentionally. As men and as disciples of Jesus, they share the peace of their teacher, their rabbi. But in this moment, they seem to revert to the little boys they once were. In this moment they stopped behaving like grown men and became like little boys competing against one another.

Lest we begin to think that this image is too irreverent for these great saints of the faith, consider the words of scripture. We read that they went to the tomb, but this image soon dissolves into them running together. This image moves further into absurdity as we read that the other disciple outran Peter. The whole mantle of maturity falls apart when the other disciple, the beloved disciple bends down to look into the tomb only to find the linen wrappings rolled up and set aside. But while he does not go into the tomb, Peter smashes all decorum and enters the tomb. Only then does the other disciple follow.

How doesn’t this look like a race between two kids at recess? If they were truly youngsters who should be off tending the sheep instead of full grown men, it would be no great leap to think of them as boys being boys instead of the Rock upon which the church will be built and the beloved disciple. Does this overstate the comic? Perhaps, but in the words of Pastor Stendahl, “it is hard to ignore at least the suggestion of such childish, such boyish, competition between these two iconic figures.”[3]

This part of the passage ends as they return to their homes after they saw and believed. They saw and they believed, but scripture makes it clear that they did not understand. They did not understand the scriptures. They did not understand that Jesus must rise from the dead. It’s almost like this part of the gospel has dissolved from Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn into a Hardy Boys mystery, “The Case of the Missing Messiah.” They saw and believed, they had all of the information in front of them, but they did not understand. They were not able to discern what happened to the body, so they went home.

The Hardy Boys would have done more to get to the bottom of this.

It is the story of Mary Magdalene that has none of this comedy.

For Mary, it’s early. It’s still dark outside as Mary leaves for the tomb. Perhaps the sun has just begun to come up so it can still be considered dark outside. If Mary leaves the house any sooner she will violate the Sabbath. Perhaps she doesn’t care anymore, she has to get to the tomb so if she is caught in violation Sabbath travel restrictions, so be it.

So from which ever side of the crack of dawn she leaves, she leaves the house and goes to the tomb. When she arrives she sees that the stone that had been placed over its mouth has been removed. I suspect she looked into the open tomb, if for just a moment. Maybe she didn’t look in, but instead had a sinking feeling in her heart. Either way, she comes to the correct conclusion. Jesus’ body was not there.

Mary sees the open tomb, overwhelmed by grief, or maybe by panic. The Lord is not there, how can this be? Mary remains weeping at the tomb. Her Lord is dead and missing. The two people she shares her worries with have abandoned her. She is alone again. She is lost. She is distraught. She weeps and she looks into the tomb. What else can she do?

Suddenly she is found by two angels who ask why she is crying. She repeats her lament, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Can you hear her heart breaking? Flowery speeches are unnecessary. “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” Then, just as suddenly she turns and sees another man standing before her. Who is this man? Did he take the body of the Lord?

He breaks the momentary silence repeating the question of the men in the tomb, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Scripture tells us Mary supposed he was the gardener. But she may have also thought he was a thief or a fool.

Only a fool wouldn’t know what had been going on in Jerusalem over the past week. The Passover was only a part of what was happening now. The Nazarene, Jesus came into Jerusalem triumphantly on the back of a colt. Later, he was tried as an enemy of the state or of the church depending on the accuser. Then he was crucified with two criminals. This was his crypt, and if this man was the gardener either he was oblivious to the events of the last week and the responsibilities of his job or he was the one who moved the body.

She answers his question without contempt toward its foolishness, but she is not above suspecting this gardener of taking Jesus. “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him and I will take him away.” How Mary is going to carry the dead weight of a man is irrelevant. If this gardener knows where the body is, she will retrieve it and return it to its proper resting place.

It’s the least she can do. The Lord has delivered Mary from her life in the world to life with him. The gospels tell different stories about Mary and her history, but there is one thing that is certain. Jesus finds Mary and then she becomes actively useful to the ministry of the Lord. Carrying him to his final resting place is the least she can do.

Her world is shattered. Being useful in this small way is all she can think to do. It is all she dares to believe she can do. What else is there?

Jesus then calls her by name. “Mary!” Recognizing him, she turns and calls out to him “Rabbouni.” She is flooded with emotion. The warmth must be amazing. Her tears of sorrow and anxiety and fear become tears of joy and relief. The Lord reveals himself to her again. She has found him and the world is turning anew. She rushes to him, she clings to him. Jesus tells her this is not the time, she is to go and tell the brothers what was happening, and what would happen. Jesus tells Mary “I am ascending to my Father.”

Mary does as she is told. She goes to the disciples. Such a difference a moment makes in our lives. Her world has been turned over three times in the last three days, the twice within the last hour or so. If she is running she is skipping. If she is walking she is walking on sunshine. Life is never going to be the same. Her Lord lives. And she is trusted to take these things to the others. “I have seen the Lord,” and life, which had all ready been turned on its ear, is turning again and again. “I have seen the Lord.”

I retell this story because I want us all to see the difference between the disciples’ story and Mary’s story. By the reckoning of Pastor Stendhal’s re-envisioning of the gospel, Peter and the other disciple act childishly. They behave like boys-being-boys racing each other to the tomb. While they have all of the information they need, they have no idea how to interpret it. So as dawn breaks, they go to bed.

Mary’s reaction is much different. She approaches the tomb first to worship her slain Lord and then to mourn the loss of his body. She cries out in tender (if suspicious) lament to the one who might be able to tell her what has happened here. She cries out that the one she grieves is now gone. Her affection to the Lord is obvious as she weeps to the angels. Her sorrow swells as she is met by her Lord who she can only see as a gardener. Her joy then becomes infectious as she recognizes him, crying “Rabbouni!” as she meets his wondrous gaze. Her glee, her delight, her abandoned, unrestrained joy is childlike.

Yes, this is our lesson for the day. We are called to have a faith that is childlike, not childish. The story I started with about this special Easter sunrise service in South Dakota makes this point. It begins as Reverend Cross fears the childish antics of a bunch of unruly tweens and teens and is met with the childlike joy of a boy-soprano crying to the specific congregation and the church universal “He is risen.” Let’s not make him wait, let us join his childlike wonder and answer him with the most ancient of all confessions, “He is risen indeed”

[1] Cross, Randy, “Bound for Golgotha, A Lenten Study based on the Revised Common Lectionary, Lent 2007.” Nashville: TN: Abingdon Press, 2006, pages 57-58.
[2] Stendahl, John K. “Feasting on the Word” Year C, Volume 2. David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, General Editors. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009, pages 372-376
[3] Ibid, page 372.