John 20:1-10 The Empty Place

Even on this best of all days, when we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus and the promise of the new life- eternal life- that his resurrection brings, it may be hard to find in our passage that joy and hope we feel on Easter morning: Mary at first seems afraid, and later in verse 11 is heartbroken; Peter and the other disciple come running, the first disciple is cautious rather than full of wonder, and both enter and see the empty tomb, though neither is excited about what this could mean. They either “see and believe” as verse 8 has it, or they still didn’t understand that he would rise from the dead, as verse 9 says. So the resurrection in the Gospel of

John begins with confusion, these two disciples who see the strips of burial cloth lying in the tomb, but nothing else; and whether or not they believe in the resurrection, we can’t say for sure, but strangely enough after they examine the tomb, they just go home!

All the gospels seem to be somewhat circumspect. Take for example, the account in Mark which has several women at the tomb that Easter morning, but when a young man- or angel?- tells them that Jesus has risen and they must go and tell his disciples that Jesus will meet them in Galilee, they run off in great fear and speak to no one. Or Matthew, who offers this odd statement when Jesus comes to his followers that day, that “they worshiped him, but some doubted.” And Luke has the women returning from the tomb, telling the apostles the story of two men in dazzling garments, but no Jesus, and they think it’s just a make believe tale.

And later in the day, two men, followers of Jesus, are walking to a nearby town and Jesus joins them, but they don’t recognize him, just as Mary later in chapter 20 here in John sees Jesus and thinks he is the gardener. Doubt, fear, confusion, mistaken identity, visions of angels: we are dealing with a different tradition about the resurrection in the gospels than Paul seems to have been familiar with, and found so convincing and full of wonder and victory; and so different from the certainty of that event upon which we rest our faith. So what do these stories in the gospels mean? What is the meaning of the empty tomb in the story of our faith?

Though written forty or more years after that first Easter morning, the gospels seem to recall the puzzlement and real human emotions of the disciples of

Jesus as they confronted something so far outside their experience and beyond their comprehension. And if the disciple whom Jesus loved does come to faith here in John’s gospel, it must be because of the only actual thing in that empty place. The way this account is presented to us, it appears that some thing makes him believe, and its not an aura or a feeling or a spiritual presence, such as some people often claim about their spiritual experiences, of the “cosmic energy” they may have felt in ancient or mysterious places. It is not a spiritual sentiment or an elevated emotion, but I think rather, it is faith created by those very real and mundane things still lying there, the bands of linen burial cloth that had been wrapped around Jesus’ body and the kerchief that had covered his head, the powerful smell of the embalming mixture of myrrh and aloe in which they were soaked still hanging in the air. And the disciple remembered where he had seen all this before- just days earlier: when Jesus had called Lazarus to come out from the grave in John 11, and Lazarus came hobbling out of his tomb because his feet and hands were tied with linen strips, and his body and his head were covered in wrappings like these. And he remembered that Jesus had said that the illness of

Lazarus was for the glory of God, and that by the death of Lazarus the disciples might believe. And I think they may have come to faith, understanding the resurrection of Jesus as they remembered Lazarus coming back to life.

(Long pause for dramatic effect, but also to go in another direction with the sermon.) You like to think that things will work the way they are supposed to. But this past week my computer stopped, the electricity in one room of my house was out, and it took me some time before I could discover the causes, although I am still not receiving email. But we know that sometimes the most basic things don’t work correctly. And our most fundamental truths are sometimes found to be false.

Truly, what is more fundamental than death? But here is the defeat of death. The grave is the final resting place of us all? Well, here is a tomb- evidently not a very good tomb- that could not hold its dead inside. The law of gravity? Here is some unknown or unseen power that overcame gravity and rolled back the stone from the front of the tomb.

What do we do when the things we most depend on or believe in fail us?

When a parent or a spouse or best friend disappoints us? When even the earth- the most solid thing we know- shakes and splits beneath us? Even the death of the teacher and miracle worker you’ve know for years, suddenly he is taken and executed and gone- who you thought could answer any question and overcome any trouble. How can you confront the loss of hope, the end of your personal expectations and the defeat of what you thought was strongest, so that there seems no place to stand and nothing to hold on to; there is only this emptiness inside you?

I am talking about the two disciples in the empty tomb that morning, and the heavy, churning emptiness inside them. But I am also talking about the hurt and fearful uncertainty of the people of Japan these past few weeks, and the people of the Middle Eastern countries and the nations of North Africa, and the changes that are occurring there this very moment; and the starving millions of the world whose lands no longer bear crops, and where rains do not come; and those nations and people who have seen treasuries and banks accounts wiped out and their homes and jobs gone.

We come here to celebrate the resurrection of Jesus this morning, and by faith we confess the glorious hope and meaning of the empty tomb. But resurrection demands a re-evaluation of everything in our life, because it is a thing completely unexpected and totally brand new to us. It is outside our experience and beyond our comprehension, just as it was for those first believers. For when even the earth cannot hold down the dead, then all of a sudden the most fundamental things are no longer true. Some sort of new world order has come.

And it comes not with plenty and ease, but rather it disturbs our comfort and empties us. So in our own empty places and in those broken and lonely times, is there one true thing left that we can discover and hold to; that we can “see and believe” as the disciple in this passage? In our empty places perhaps we do not sense the presence of Jesus, but just feel alone; just as in the empty tomb, Jesus was not there. But those linen cloths remained, and we can know he was there. Is there something with you, in you, in your empty places, that remains and reminds you that Jesus was there? And if he was there he hasn’t left for good, but is calling you to a deeper place where you may find him through and beyond the emptiness.

That one thing left behind may be simply a word of kindness or a scripture remembered or some other memory that draws you on; it may be the fellowship and friendship of those who love you. And it may be this simple religious rite of communion we share each Sunday, by which we remember our Lord’s love for us, in which we proclaim his death, and in which we come to believe and hope in his resurrection- and ours- into the new life.

For several years now, I have wanted to preach a wedding sermon about the wedding ring. I guess I’ve been thinking about this again because I am officiating at the Tapman’s grandson’s wedding a couple of weeks from now. You have seen ministers at weddings hold up a ring for all to see and heard him talk about its roundness that symbolizes eternal love- no beginning and no end; and talk about its

“goldness” that symbolizes how precious and how rare love is. But I’ll bet you never heard a preacher talk about the hole in the middle- the empty places in the lives of husband and wife, that each one brings to a marriage. Each person has individual experiences that make him or her a unique person. To a large extent they cannot share these experiences, they are deep, deep inside, perhaps private and painful or even unknown and unacknowledged- perhaps coming from the very first days of one’s life. But marriage is one of those fundamental changes in a life from which something new emerges, that out of emptiness and separateness, something solid and whole takes shape. Perhaps that is what the wedding band represents, a form that encircles and makes meaning of our personal emptiness, and the promise of companionship and love that exists even in the midst of the emptiness.

In a sense, this is what the church is, and the life of faith. The loneliness and separation, the sorrow of human life will never leave us, but there is always the assurance here- in our acts of worship and service, in our care for one another- of

God’s love for us, God’s perfect understanding and compassion that surrounds us in a circle of love; God’s all-encompassing love: the one true and everlasting thing that remains when everything else is gone.