In the pre-dawn darkness, Mary of Magdala pushed down on the fear and grief in her being and ventured out of the safe place, secure behind solid walls and locked doors, and into the wild and dangerous world. She left the followers of Jesus behind in their fear of Roman soldiers or Temple guards who were responsible for the death of Jesus.
Mary stumbled through the dark world of shadows and fear, a world that symbolised her own grieving, anxious and confused heart. The darkness of that pre-dawn morning is the darkness of every life when we are confronted by the pain and suffering that is life, the grief, loss, chaos and vulnerability we feel before the powers and movement of our lives where we have lost any of the control, we imagined we had. Out of control, we stumble, fall, and edge our way forward towards – where? This is the liminal space of lonely helplessness, a powerlessness to change things, where we are left to sit in our grief and pain. There are the questions and doubts, the ‘if only’ thinking and the wishful dreaming of what might have been ‘if only’ this or that or something else had happened or intervened. This ‘shadowlands’ of our lives is a hard place, but it is mostly where Easter begins, and we receive the light that leads us into deeper life and being.
Mary stumbled through her darkness to the tomb where Jesus’ body lay. The dark pre-dawn world symbolised everything that caused her heart to break, her eyes to overflow with tears and her body to be wracked with physical suffering. Mary’s spirit was crushed, the life and hope drained from it as she had watched Jesus suffer and die – with him, the hopes, dreams and expectations of herself and the other followers – and the world!
Mary had been lifted from lowliness and error, from victim and marginalised woman to one given equal status in Jesus’ eyes. In him she was known and loved, and she felt the deep love, grace and acceptance of God in her being. There was hope and life, but now?
The tomb came closer with each stumbling step, and she finally saw the stone was rolled away from the front. The tomb was open! The tomb that held her pain and grief, the tomb that had locked, within its own dark spaces, her deepest anguish and fear, was open. What did this mean? Was his body, the body of the one who had loved her so deeply and profoundly and given himself for her and so many, now stolen from them? She ran back to tell the disciples.
Peter and another disciple ran to the tomb. The other disciple ran in and saw the emptiness. Peter joined him and they believed – what did they believe? Mary’s story of theft and emptiness? The powers that be had surely struck again. They turned back to tell the others and lock the doors even tighter, perhaps. Mary stayed in the dark world, stumbling in the darkness of the tomb to look. There, in the shadows, figures, strange figures and voices asking about her tears. She turned, and in the shadows another figure. The gardener perhaps, but at this early hour? ‘Why are you weeping, woman?’ it said. ‘Did you take his body? If so, tell me so I can find him,’ Mary replied.
‘Mary!’ And Mary looked up, and recognised in the darkness the person, the voice, the figure and cried out, ‘Teacher.’ She lunged to grasp him but was told to let go, you cannot hold me. I am alive in the world but in a new way and am with you! Mary went to tell the disciples that she had seen Jesus and explained what he had said to her.
But what did she say? What was her experience? What do the stories of Easter that feature in each of the stories of Jesus say and mean? Each has a distinct perspective, a different angle, a different encounter told in a different way. What did the disciples think, imagine? How did they receive Mary’s witness and what did it all mean? Jesus was no longer with them, and they were still afraid of the powers. What would life be like? They were caught in the darkness of life, the liminal place between the worlds of ‘what was’ and ‘what might be.’ What does this story mean in our lives and how will the loud, resounding ‘Hallelujahs’ and proclamation of ‘Christ is Risen! He is risen indeed!’ mean this weekend as they ring out across the world? Where will we find Easter in our own experience and how does it come to us?
We follow this story and the confusion, the mystery and the wonderment of people as they grasp an experience that lies beyond full comprehension or description, an experience that comes in stories and metaphors because it is too hard to grasp. We follow this story and the people grasping to name and define and reduce this mystery to something we can hold and control, but it always slips from our grasp. In our own darkness when hope fades and raw pain grips our heart, and fear rages wild in our being, Easter gently breaks in. It comes in a word or act of love and care. It comes in the dawning of a new day, and we see the wonder of life and believe in something bigger, more and beyond everything – breaking into our thin existence with hope. It is in the moment we let go and our broken heart or scared mind is released into the unfathomable mystery of Divine grace and love – a limitless ocean that holds us gently in a flow of life and being, sustaining and nurturing.
Easter breaks in when we least expect anything can happen, when we are beyond our limits and cannot imagine a future. We let go and trust in God, whatever that looks like in that moment. Sometimes angry acquiescence; sometimes desperate yearning and reaching out; sometimes despairing, powerlessness and helplessness that can do nothing else. It is in the cries of help, desperate in the dark night of the soul or the wracking sobs of grief and the arms that reach out to hold. It is in the mysterious arms of love that extend into our being and touch our soul, the all-seeing and knowing mystery of love that reaches in and offers life and love to our deepest being and the invitation to live anew.
Mary, Peter, John, Paul and the countless others witness to the transformative experience of the Risen Christ, a vision of light and voice, a figure walking and talking, a vision that breaks into our mind and being that speaks a new truth and hope. There are disciples whose eyes are opened in a moment of seeing and all of us witness to the wonder of new life springing up in the least likely places if only we will let go and trust this one who was raised into new life and comes to us in the darkness of life with love and hope!
Rev Geoff Stevenson
