April 20, 2014 (Easter Day) – John 20:1-18
John 20:1-18
Mary Turned
Resurrection of our Lord: Easter Sunday – April 20, 2014
First Lutheran Church – Winnipeg, MB
She mistakes him for . . . a gardener. A gardener!
But it is not really a mistake, is it?
It’s no accident that she identifies the risen Jesus above all as a gardener.
And it is not really a mistake.
Mary, at the very beginning of the resurrection story, sees Jesus first of all as a gardener.
Gardeners bring new life, new worlds, new creations into being.
Didn’t John write this at the very beginning of his Gospel?
All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. (John 1:3-5)
Jesus was present at the very beginning of the world, the gardener of creation,
all things were brought into life through him.
But that old world has needed some renewal.
The people in it have needed some renewal.
A new creation was desperately needed.
And so the gardener makes a reappearance at the very place of death this morning: the cemetery.
And he begins to garden a new world into being.
John is inviting us to consider that a new world, a new creation, a new people, a new you,
is about to come into being through this newly resurrected one.
Jesus the gardener is bringing in a new world out of the old one.
And that is tremendous good news.
It was tremendous good news for Mary, and it is tremendous good news for us.
We can all relate to Mary, right?
In John’s Gospel, she is at first alone.
Bereft. Weeping. Dead to hope.
Mary had known something wonderful, a love she had never experienced before.
She had seen a love in action for others she had never seen before.
Mary had seen and heard so much.
The poor were fed. The lowly lifted up. The sick healed. The excluded included.
The sinner forgiven. The dead raised.
Mary had seen and heard about so much new life.
For wherever Jesus had gone there was new life.
But now, that hope had died.
The world had said no to new life, no to Jesus’s ministry, no to Jesus.
And so she comes, to honour Jesus, to say goodbye, maybe to bury her hope with him.
And carry on as best she could.
It’s wintertime for Mary.
Truly, we can relate to Mary.
It’s been a looooooong winter for us!
We have had our hopes dashed continually!
The weather person says, “Hey: hang in there: it’s going to warm up by the end of next week.”
Wrong! Over and over again, wrong!
It’s been like a giant metaphor for our lives, this past winter.
Truly this has been the winter of our discontent.
We know the winter of despair and we know the winter of hopelessness.
We know the winter of isolation and we know the winter of addiction.
We know the winter of disappointment and we know the winter of bitterness.
We know the winter of illness and we know the winter of grief.
And these winters can seem long and these winters can seem endless.
Like Mary we know these winters well.
But into Mary’s winter and into our winter this morning comes a gardener who
brings spring with him.
And that is tremendous great good news.
For into the world of winter the gardener begins to cultivate the world of spring.
Truly two worlds butt up against each other on this Easter morning:
one full of sadness and despair, the other pulsating with resurrection and new life.
One where the vulnerable are in constant danger and one where the vulnerable are valued.
One where might makes right and one where love makes right.
One where the rich get richer and one where the rich empty themselves.
One where the dead stay dead –
and one in which the dead enter the new world of resurrection and new life.
Two worlds are before us on this Easter morning.
Two worlds were before Mary on that Easter morning long ago – and two worlds are before us.
And what makes all the difference?
Where does everything change in this story of two worlds?
The change comes, the defining moment happens, when Mary’s name is called.
For when Mary’s name is called, says John, she turns.
And in those two words lie all the difference.
Mary turns at the sound of her name.
This is not a new spring world in the abstract.
This is not a new spring world that she cannot possibly have no part of.
This is a new spring world that she has a place in.
This is a new spring world that is meant for her.
This is a new spring world that is meant for everyone.
For everyone who knows what winter is like, this is a new spring world for you. For you.
Mary turns at the sound of her name.
She turns to the gardener.
She turns from an old creation to a new one.
She turns from confusion to clarity.
She turns from fear to faith.
She turns from death to life.
And on this Easter Sunday we know – we know – that this is not just about a woman named
Mary long ago.
We know that this is about us.
We know that Jesus never tires of calling us by name and inviting us to turn.
In our baptism Jesus first called us by name and claimed us for his new world of
mercy, and generosity, and forgiveness, and hope, and justice.
In our baptism Jesus announced to us that we were not meant for the old world of
treachery and betrayal and despair and addiction and hopelessness and isolation.
In our baptism Jesus called us by our very own name to claim us for and invite us to turn to
the new world he brings of faithfulness and steadfastness and concern for vulnerable and
forgiveness and hope and joy and community!
For everything is changed now. Everything!
We are being called with Mary to turn from the old creation to the new one.
Everything is changed: on the Good Friday cross Jesus joined his self to all the world’s suffering.
So there is now no place in the world Jesus cannot be at work bringing in the new world.
There is now no place in your life where Jesus cannot be at work bringing in the new world.
Jesus tells Mary she cannot hold on to him precisely because he can no longer be pinned down to
a certain place or a specific time: now he is the Lord of all places and of all times.
Now he is the gardener of all cemeteries, all places of death,
cultivating new life and a new world.
The early church saw itself becoming a garden of the new creation cultivated by
Jesus the gardener.
The community of the church is where people should be able to see the new world
coming into being.
There is so much that looks like the old world around us and within us.
But this, First Lutheran Church – this kinda looks like the new world to me.
This morning I see genuine joy in the presence of one another in
the presence of the risen gardener.
I see the welcome and the hospitality that are the hallmarks of the new creation in Christ.
I hear the beauty of human voices joined together.
I sense the honouring of every person as a beloved child of God – I smell springtime!
I see the generous sharing of wealth and of food – for the ministry of this congregation and
for ministry to this neighbourhood.
I see offerings being brought that will be extended into this neighbourhood through our
highly regarded Food Bank – did you know that our food bank is one of
the most highly regarded by Winnipeg Harvest?
It’s highly regarded because of what our guests at Food Bank have said about us.
They are treated with dignity, they are treated with care, they are treated with fairness,
and they are treated to lovingly made healthy home-cooked meals.
Truly we are a garden cultivated by the risen gardener of life:
we know winter, but we also know spring right here.
So with Mary let us continue to turn to him.
He calls your name again – he calls you from winter to spring.
Calls you to turn from the old world to the new.
Calls you to turn from despair to hope. Calls you to turn from fear to bravery.
Calls you to turn from apathy to action.
For he is here. He is risen. He is with you. He calls you by name – on this Easter Morning.
So together let us turn to him and together let us say, “Amen.”
Pastor Michael Kurtz
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