The Importance of Letting Go
Sunday of the Resurrection
April 12, 2009
John 20:1-18
This Sunday of the Resurrection is a glorious day, one that Christians look forward to the entire year. Popular culture has a Christmas fixation, suggesting that our faith centers on that day. But the teaching of our faith, the core of our faith, points to the Resurrection. Points toward this day, Easter. The day Christ arose.
And he is risen, alleluia.
I hesitate, though, in saying that this is the most important day of the year. I get nervous about pointing to any one thing as the most important.
A couple of years ago, I was interviewed for a newspaper story on the Easter Sermon, based on the idea that the Easter sermon is the most important one of the year. That’s an idea I don’t really agree with … and anyway, I sure don’t like that kind of pressure!
Back when I was teaching students how to be newspaper reporters, I’d tell them to avoid questions like, “What’s the one most important thing?” or “What’s your favorite something?” or “What’s the funniest or tastiest or most bestest ever.”
For one thing, our brains tend to shut down when he have to eliminate everything else …. for example, if I were ask you, “What’s the absolute best restaurant meal you’ve ever had?” That’s hard to answer. But if I ask you, “Tell me about one great meal you’ve had,” then you probably have something to say.
If I asked you to name some of the most important things in your life- not just one, but many- I'll be you could close your eyes and see many of them. I close my eyes and think of going fishing with my brothers, of trips, of births and deaths, some things happy and others hard, but all of them important.
Well, that's one thing about “most important.” The other thing is, I’m always nervous about saying something is “most important” because thinking that way tends to disparage other things, make them seem less important than they really are.
Christmas is by no means unimportant. The Ascension, All Saints, the Epiphany … the list goes on. We’ve got a year full of Christian feasts and fasts. All important, and I don’t want to get into the business of comparing them. They’re all important parts of the Christian year, of the Christian faith. So if you ask me if Easter is the most important, I’m going to say, “Yes … except for all the others.”
No single service is most important, and no single service or sermon contains the whole of the Gospel message. No single part of the Gospel, or of the whole Bible for that matter, is so important that it stands absolutely on its own. Luther called John 3:16 the “the heart of the Bible, the Gospel in miniature.” But John 3:16 on its own does not sustain us, does not fully instruct us outside the context of the Gospel in its fullness.
But imagine if John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life – imagine that this verse were taken away from you. You had it once, but now it’s gone. That it once sustained you but now has been taken away.
Or imagine that the Exodus story – the whole salvation of the Hebrew people from slavery through the Red Sea into the Promised Land. Imagine that this story, which may once had given you such hope, imagine that it were taken away forever.
Or the psalms – never more to hear “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
Or even your hymns – no more “Faith of our Fathers,” no more “Amazing Grace.”
Where would you turn, what would you do? Where would you turn for consolation in time of grief if all of Scripture were to be yanked away? Where would you turn for words of praise in times of gladness? What would lend shape to your faith, to your daily journey through this life?
And worse … imagine, if it’s possible, that Jesus were taken away from you. What utter devastation. What an empty, unimaginable hole in your life.
And there … there you are with Mary Magdalene on this Easter morning. The tomb is empty and she cries, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
The disciples who came, they left for home. But Mary, she stood there crying at the tomb. Where else was there worth going? One place was as good as another now … now that Jesus was gone, now that there was nothing good left. Now that there was a dark, empty tomb where once there had been life. What to do but cry, what to do but weep?
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
They were angels. “Why are you weeping?”
Mary was so distraught that the sight of angels meant nothing to her. All she could see was what wasn’t there – her savior. “They have taken away my Lord.”
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
This time, not an angel, but her Lord. And she was so distraught that the sight of the risen Savior meant nothing to her. All she saw was someone who wasn’t who she was looking for – Jesus, her friend, her very life.
For Mary, it all changed in a moment. From weeping to a cry of joy. From despair to hope. All in a word – “Mary!” A word that told her that Jesus recognized her when she could not recognize him. A word that said, “I am here. I have arisen. Alleluia.”
If she could have, Mary Magdalene would have held onto that moment forever. That moment of instantaneous joy, when her heart was refilled and her spirit renewed, when Jesus said her name and she knew that he was risen – that she was not alone and, indeed, never had been and never would be alone. That moment of joy, that flashing moment of immortality of the soul.
Jesus knew this. Knew that she would hold onto this, this most important moment ever, that this would become her whole life compressed into a moment like no other. And he said, “Do not hold onto me.”
Time had to move on. The Son had not yet returned to the Father. Jesus had not appeared to the disciples. There was much to do. For him, for her, for the world. “Do not hold onto me.”
Ah, but she wanted to. And we want to. To hold onto that one moment, that one day, that most important time in our lives, whatever it may be. But there is more to life than a moment.
In fact, there is more to salvation than a moment. More than a life decision, more than a warming of the heart, more than the moment of commitment.
There is what we do with that commitment. There is what we do with The Word. There is what we do and how we live and what we continue to believe once we see that Jesus has risen.
Jesus said, in effect, “Yes, I am standing here at this most important time, the moment of resurrection … but go. Let go and tell the others. Let go and be a witness. Let go and spread the Gospel.”
How hard for Mary. She had lost Jesus once, and now … and now? How hard for us. We have a moment in time that defines us, that we love dearly and now … and now? How very hard.
Mary is able to turn and go because she knows that once risen, Jesus cannot and will not leave her ever again. She does not have to hold on because he will not let go.
This most important moment will stretch on through the rest of her life, forever more. For the Risen Christ would live in and through her as she told the Good News of Christ and lived the life of the Christian.
The Psalmist says, “On this day, the Lord has acted; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” But this day, the Day of Resurrection, will pass. And tomorrow will come and tomorrow after that, and one day will tell its tale to another.
There will be no need to hang onto this one day, this one service, this one moment with Christ. Do not hold on, because this most important day, this most important message will remain with you, remain in you.
When you see the Risen Christ in the hearing of the Word, in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup … when you have seen the Risen Christ in your neighbor’s heart … you then can go out into the world to say, like Mary, “I have seen the Lord.”
And others will see the Lord as the Lord lives in you.
Amen.
April 12, 2009
John 20:1-18
This Sunday of the Resurrection is a glorious day, one that Christians look forward to the entire year. Popular culture has a Christmas fixation, suggesting that our faith centers on that day. But the teaching of our faith, the core of our faith, points to the Resurrection. Points toward this day, Easter. The day Christ arose.
And he is risen, alleluia.
I hesitate, though, in saying that this is the most important day of the year. I get nervous about pointing to any one thing as the most important.
A couple of years ago, I was interviewed for a newspaper story on the Easter Sermon, based on the idea that the Easter sermon is the most important one of the year. That’s an idea I don’t really agree with … and anyway, I sure don’t like that kind of pressure!
Back when I was teaching students how to be newspaper reporters, I’d tell them to avoid questions like, “What’s the one most important thing?” or “What’s your favorite something?” or “What’s the funniest or tastiest or most bestest ever.”
For one thing, our brains tend to shut down when he have to eliminate everything else …. for example, if I were ask you, “What’s the absolute best restaurant meal you’ve ever had?” That’s hard to answer. But if I ask you, “Tell me about one great meal you’ve had,” then you probably have something to say.
If I asked you to name some of the most important things in your life- not just one, but many- I'll be you could close your eyes and see many of them. I close my eyes and think of going fishing with my brothers, of trips, of births and deaths, some things happy and others hard, but all of them important.
Well, that's one thing about “most important.” The other thing is, I’m always nervous about saying something is “most important” because thinking that way tends to disparage other things, make them seem less important than they really are.
Christmas is by no means unimportant. The Ascension, All Saints, the Epiphany … the list goes on. We’ve got a year full of Christian feasts and fasts. All important, and I don’t want to get into the business of comparing them. They’re all important parts of the Christian year, of the Christian faith. So if you ask me if Easter is the most important, I’m going to say, “Yes … except for all the others.”
No single service is most important, and no single service or sermon contains the whole of the Gospel message. No single part of the Gospel, or of the whole Bible for that matter, is so important that it stands absolutely on its own. Luther called John 3:16 the “the heart of the Bible, the Gospel in miniature.” But John 3:16 on its own does not sustain us, does not fully instruct us outside the context of the Gospel in its fullness.
But imagine if John 3:16 – “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life – imagine that this verse were taken away from you. You had it once, but now it’s gone. That it once sustained you but now has been taken away.
Or imagine that the Exodus story – the whole salvation of the Hebrew people from slavery through the Red Sea into the Promised Land. Imagine that this story, which may once had given you such hope, imagine that it were taken away forever.
Or the psalms – never more to hear “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.”
Or even your hymns – no more “Faith of our Fathers,” no more “Amazing Grace.”
Where would you turn, what would you do? Where would you turn for consolation in time of grief if all of Scripture were to be yanked away? Where would you turn for words of praise in times of gladness? What would lend shape to your faith, to your daily journey through this life?
And worse … imagine, if it’s possible, that Jesus were taken away from you. What utter devastation. What an empty, unimaginable hole in your life.
And there … there you are with Mary Magdalene on this Easter morning. The tomb is empty and she cries, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
The disciples who came, they left for home. But Mary, she stood there crying at the tomb. Where else was there worth going? One place was as good as another now … now that Jesus was gone, now that there was nothing good left. Now that there was a dark, empty tomb where once there had been life. What to do but cry, what to do but weep?
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
They were angels. “Why are you weeping?”
Mary was so distraught that the sight of angels meant nothing to her. All she could see was what wasn’t there – her savior. “They have taken away my Lord.”
“Woman, why are you weeping?”
This time, not an angel, but her Lord. And she was so distraught that the sight of the risen Savior meant nothing to her. All she saw was someone who wasn’t who she was looking for – Jesus, her friend, her very life.
For Mary, it all changed in a moment. From weeping to a cry of joy. From despair to hope. All in a word – “Mary!” A word that told her that Jesus recognized her when she could not recognize him. A word that said, “I am here. I have arisen. Alleluia.”
If she could have, Mary Magdalene would have held onto that moment forever. That moment of instantaneous joy, when her heart was refilled and her spirit renewed, when Jesus said her name and she knew that he was risen – that she was not alone and, indeed, never had been and never would be alone. That moment of joy, that flashing moment of immortality of the soul.
Jesus knew this. Knew that she would hold onto this, this most important moment ever, that this would become her whole life compressed into a moment like no other. And he said, “Do not hold onto me.”
Time had to move on. The Son had not yet returned to the Father. Jesus had not appeared to the disciples. There was much to do. For him, for her, for the world. “Do not hold onto me.”
Ah, but she wanted to. And we want to. To hold onto that one moment, that one day, that most important time in our lives, whatever it may be. But there is more to life than a moment.
In fact, there is more to salvation than a moment. More than a life decision, more than a warming of the heart, more than the moment of commitment.
There is what we do with that commitment. There is what we do with The Word. There is what we do and how we live and what we continue to believe once we see that Jesus has risen.
Jesus said, in effect, “Yes, I am standing here at this most important time, the moment of resurrection … but go. Let go and tell the others. Let go and be a witness. Let go and spread the Gospel.”
How hard for Mary. She had lost Jesus once, and now … and now? How hard for us. We have a moment in time that defines us, that we love dearly and now … and now? How very hard.
Mary is able to turn and go because she knows that once risen, Jesus cannot and will not leave her ever again. She does not have to hold on because he will not let go.
This most important moment will stretch on through the rest of her life, forever more. For the Risen Christ would live in and through her as she told the Good News of Christ and lived the life of the Christian.
The Psalmist says, “On this day, the Lord has acted; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” But this day, the Day of Resurrection, will pass. And tomorrow will come and tomorrow after that, and one day will tell its tale to another.
There will be no need to hang onto this one day, this one service, this one moment with Christ. Do not hold on, because this most important day, this most important message will remain with you, remain in you.
When you see the Risen Christ in the hearing of the Word, in the breaking of the bread and the sharing of the cup … when you have seen the Risen Christ in your neighbor’s heart … you then can go out into the world to say, like Mary, “I have seen the Lord.”
And others will see the Lord as the Lord lives in you.
Amen.
posted by Michael+ at 5:27 PM
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