“Why Are You Weeping?”
A Sermon
Preached by the
Rev. Jean
Niven Lenk
Easter
Sunday, March 31, 2013
First
Congregational Church of Stoughton, MA
An Open
and Affirming Congregation of the United Church of Christ
Text: John 20:1-18
The Easter story begins not with the
sunshine and joy of resurrection, but with the tears and despair of death. It begins not in a sanctuary filled with fragrant
flowers and jubilant singing, but in a cemetery with the stench and silence of
death.
The Gospel of John tells us that Mary Magdalene goes
to the tomb on that first Easter Sunday while it is “still dark…” It is the darkest hour, the one just before
the dawn. It is the dark night of Mary’s
soul; the darkness of her broken heart, her dashed hopes and dreams; the
darkness of life without the Light of the world.
When Mary gets to the tomb and sees
that the stone has been rolled away and the grave opened, she does not even
bother to look inside. Through the blur
of her tears and the haze of her exhaustion, Mary can only guess that grave
robbers have stolen Jesus’ body. Long
after the disciples have seen for themselves and returned home, Mary lingers
outside the tomb, weeping. We can imagine
that she is thinking back on all that has happened, the many lives that Jesus
has touched and healed and transformed.
And – she is thinking that now it’s all over.
As
she stands there, remembering and lamenting, two angels appear and ask her,
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
“Why am I weeping?” she must be
thinking. “How can I not weep? How can you?”
Because Jesus is dead, brutally
killed by people who felt threatened by him, by people who neither knew nor
understood Him. From the first day he appeared
in Galilee preaching the Good News of the Kingdom of God, he dared them to imagine a different world, a world
based on love and generosity in which the last would be first, the hungry would
be fed, the lowly uplifted, the stranger welcomed, and injustice fought. On the final night of his life, the
disciples’ Master and Teacher washed their feet and broke bread at a Last Supper
with them. And then he gave them a new
commandment: “Love one another as I have loved you.” But then Judas betrayed him, Peter denied
him, and the rest of his disciples deserted him. And then he was arrested, flogged, crucified,
and laid in a tomb.
Why am I weeping? Mary must be asking, “How can I not?”
Mary’s weeping is a universal
emotion. Crying is the first sound out
of our mouths when we are born. And it
is often the last sound we hear as we as we leave this earthly life.
And between birth and death, we
weep a lot. How can we not? There is so much to weep about.
Maybe
it’s financial hardships, health issues, tough times. Maybe it’s grief and loss and despair. Maybe it’s a broken relationship or persistent loneliness
or unrelenting hopelessness. And if we
aren’t weeping for ourselves, then we need only listen to the news for things
to weep about.
A young husband and his pregnant
wife are travelling from their home
in Brooklyn to a Manhattan hospital in the back of a private taxi when they are
struck by a hit-and run-driver. The
couple and their unborn baby die.
Why are we weeping? How can we not?
A tour bus carrying a college women's lacrosse team goes off the turnpike
and crashes into a tree, killing a 30-year-old coach and her unborn baby.
Why are we weeping? How can we not?
A
13-month-old boy is shot in the head while in a stroller being pushed by his
mother. Two teenagers have been
arrested.
Why are we weeping? How
can we not?
Twenty children and six adult educators are shot dead at
Sandy Hook elementary school in Newtown Connecticut.
Why are we weeping? How can we not?
Yes, so many of us are like Mary, walking in the
darkness as she did, stumbling in the shadows of separation, sadness,
suffering. We, too, carry around grief
and regret in our souls; the weight of our own actions and the bad choices we
have made; the wounds of pain inflicted by others; the brokenness of illness
and loss and devastating diagnoses.
So many of us are stuck in Good Friday. And all too often, we — like Mary — linger at
the tombs of our failures and heartaches and disappointments, bewildered and
paralyzed, unable to move beyond the fear and despair in our lives.
But
as Mary stands at the tomb, remembering and weeping, she sees a man, and he too
asks the question: “Why are you weeping?” In the dim light she cannot see his face and
thinks he must be the gardener. The
Voice speaks again: “Mary.” And suddenly
she knows – it is him! In that instant, everything changes. Jesus is alive again – the foundation and fulfillment of her hopes, the face
of God turned toward her in love. Where
there was brokenness, now there is wholeness.
Where there was darkness, now
there is light. Where there was despair,
now there is hope. Where there was death,
now there is life.
Good Friday makes us weep. But Easter bids us to dry our tears.
Are
you weeping because you have lost hope?
Easter says, “Keep on going.
There are better days ahead.”
Are
you weeping because you are consumed by guilt?
Easter says, “You are forgiven. Today
you have a fresh start.”
Are
you weeping because you feel insignificant and unloved? Easter says, “You are a beloved child of
God.”
Are
you weeping over a frightening diagnosis?
Easter says, “Be not afraid. God
is with you every step of the way."
Are
you weeping over the death of a loved one?
Easter says, “Death does not have the final word.”
Easter happens every time a glimmer of hope breaks
through the darkness of our despair.
Easter happens every time the light of God’s healing love carries us out
of the shadows of loss and grief and disappointment. Easter happens every time we can find the
courage to let go, to stop clinging to the past, and turn toward a new
beginning and a hope-filled future.
When Mary finally recognizes her beloved teacher, she reaches out
to him, wanting to hold on, but he tells her that she must let go of the old
life so new life can take place. And then he tells her – and all of us – to dry
our tears and go – go, to share what we have seen, go
to invite others to experience this Easter joy, go and be instruments of
Christ’s healing grace, go and be conduits of Christ’s boundless love.
We’re no longer in Good Friday. Today we celebrate resurrection.
And so on this beautiful Easter
morning, go and spread the news that the tomb is empty, and Jesus lives
again! Go, because the world is weeping.
The world is waiting.
Let’s dry our eyes and go tell the
Good News: death does not and will not have the final word.
Christ is risen! Christ is risen indeed! Amen.
