First Lutheran Church

April 9, 2023 + Easter Sunday A

John 20:1-18 - 1Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. 2So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” 3Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. 4The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. 5He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. 6Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, 7and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. 8Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; 9for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. 10Then the disciples returned to their homes.

11But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; 12and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. 13They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” 14When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. 15Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” 16Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). 17Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’ ” 18Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

Sermon

“You Can’t Run To Easter”

Pastor Greg Ronning

(Pastor Greg is not in the sanctuary as the time for the sermon arrives.  After about thirty seconds he comes running in from the Narthex.)

Sorry, I seem to be “running” late this morning.  There’s always just so much to do, especially on Easter Sunday.  Actually, I’ve been “running” all week, - Holy Week!  Extra services to prepare and lead, just so much going on these days.  And I noticed that a few of you were “running” a little late this morning, getting here just in time for the service, - almost.  I appreciate the effort, and I am so glad you made it!

Truth be told, our life gets busy!  We have demanding schedules, things to do at work, things to do in retirement.  (How did that happen?)  It’s hard to keep it all together.  So we “run” around all day.  And sometimes we just get tired, and we hit the snooze bar, literally and figuratively, losing a few precious minutes - here and there and everywhere.

I’m reminded of the Jackson Browne song, “Running On Empty.”

Running on (Running on empty), Running on (Running blind)
Running on (Running into the sun), But I'm running behind

And it’s not just our hectic life and busy schedules that keeps us “running on. ”Often, we find ourselves running, “running away,” from much deeper things.  We run away from our mistakes and our failures, we run away from the past, we run away from broken relationships, we run away from our feelings, we run away from the realities we don’t want to face, and we run away from our pain and our grief.  We keep running because if we slow down, we’re afraid that some, or all, of these things might catch up with us.  We’re all “running on,” we’re all “running on empty;” when it comes down to it, we’re all runners.  Running to keep up with the busy life we have created, and running away from the fear that resides deep within us, the fear that haunts, the fear that keeps us on the move.

As I listened to this morning’s Easter Gospel, I couldn’t help but notice, there’s a lot of “running” going on there too!  Mary Magdalene arrives at the tomb early in the morning and discovers that the stone has been rolled away.  “So she ‘ran’ and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, (John)  …”.   (Side note: It’s kind of funny, how the author of the Gospel of John describes the disciple John, he is always the “beloved” one.)  Anyways, when Peter and John hear about the stone being rolled away and the disappearance of the body of Jesus, so they “run” over to see for themselves.  John writes, “The two were ‘running’ together, but the other disciple ‘outran’ Peter and reached the tomb first.”  (Side note:  John is not only the “beloved” one, but he is a faster runner too.). Mary “runs” after them, and they all look and see that the tomb is empty indeed.  Peter and John decide to go back to their homes.  Remember they are “wanted men” because of their association with Jesus.  So, I doubt they just strolled back, I imagine they “scurried” back, “running” and hiding in fear.(Side note: I wonder who got home first?  Sometimes we run because we’re afraid to lose)  The next time we hear about Peter and John, and the other disciples, they will be hiding behind locked doors because they “fear” the religious authorities.

While Peter and John remain “on the run,” at this point, Mary decides to stop running.  “But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb, …”.  Mary, in her faith, in her grief, in her tears, in her love for Jesus, remains. 

I remember a certain graveyard my friends and I would sometimes visit when we were teenagers.  This graveyard was not kept up very well, it was overgrown, it was in the woods, and it was scarry.  And there was this one crypt that was often “opened up.”  It became a game of dare, a dare we would always lose.  We would slowly creep into the graveyard and up to the crypt, and then there would be a noise, there was always a noise, and we would turn and run as fast as we could out of that place.

But Mary Magdalene remained, “As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb, …”

Weeping, crying, tears – they are powerful.  Some of us are good at crying, some of us find it hard to cry.  But it’s a fact, crying is beneficial.  Shedding tears can reduce our stress, let the tension out of our body.  Tears shared, open up our humanity to others, creating relationships.  Tears release chemicals that ease both physical and emotional pain and make us feel better.  Tears keep our eyes moist and prevent them from drying out.  And tears improve vision literally and figuratively.  I’m reminded of the words ofthe martyr Archbishop Oscar Romero of El Salvador said, “There are many things that can only be seen through eyes that have cried.”

Mary Magdalene began that first Easter morning “running,” but eventually, perhaps in a moment of courage, or perhaps in a moment of exhaustion, perhaps both, she faithfully stops “running” and “remains.” She stops, sits down in the midst of it all, in a graveyard with an open crypt, and she cries.  And in that moment, - she sees Jesus.  She is the first to bear witness to the resurrection. “There are many things that can only be seen through eyes that have cried.”

I’m reminded of the gospel story from a couple of weeks ago, the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.  Jesus arrives too late to heal Lazarus, and outside his tomb he pauses, and “Jesus wept.”   And then, in the midst of a graveyard, surrounded by death, Jesus calls out to Lazarus, “Lazarus, come out!” And the dead man came out, “Unbind him, and let him go.”  “There are many things that can only be seen through eyes that have cried.”

Immediately following today’s service, we will have an Easter Egg Hunt in the courtyard.  We will gather up the children, open the gate, and they will “run” into the courtyard looking for Easter Eggs.  And why not, did you know that the eggs contain candy and coins?  And the kids will be filled with excitement and joy.  We too, watching them, will be filled with the excitement and joy of Easter. And I will be looking for any eggs that might get left behind after the hunt is over.

But let us remember that Easter cannot truly be found in the act of “running.”  You can’t “run” to Easter, “running” only takes you away from Easter.  Let us leave this morning, no longer “on the run,” but ready to slow down, even stop.

Emboldened by the witness of Mary Magdalene, let us faithfully seek out the graveyard that haunts us, the fears that keep us moving, the pain and the brokenness that bind us, the things that keep us captive.  Let us faithfully seek out the graveyards of our world, where all those who suffer must live out their life in pain and death.  Let us find the place where the God who suffered on the cross in Jesus, revealing the heart of God, is present risking to love where it hurts.

And in that place, let us dare to remain, even as the tears begin to flow.  For it is in that place that Christ awaits you, it is in that place that the resurrection begins, it is in that place that healing starts, it is in that place that all things become new.  It is in that place that our desire to be loved, our need to know that we are loved, and our calling to love others as we have been loved, is fully experienced and boldly lived out.

“But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb.

As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; …”

“There are many things that can only be seen through eyes that have cried.”

Christ is risen, Christ is risen indeed!  Amen.

Sermon on John 11:1-45

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Lazarus was dead.

He was not asleep. Jesus did not arrive in time to heal him.

Jesus had healed so many—where was he when his close friend was dying?

Lazarus’s sisters and other family and friends had gathered to mourn and support each other in their grief.

They were all probably thinking what Martha and then Mary said.

“Lord, if you had been here, Lazarus would not have died.”

And now, look: he’s crying! Maybe even Jesus is despairing.

Even Jesus was confronting the reality of death.

And yes, Jesus wept with his dear friends over Lazarus’s death. Jesus knows what it’s like to grieve. Jesus knows the bitter touch of death.

He wept even though he knew that death was no match for God.

Jesus met his friends in their grief, even as he trusted in the God who breathed life into the dry bones in Ezekiel’s vision.

Jesus knew he had the power to heal—he had, indeed, healed many. But he trusted God enough to wait when he was told to wait, instead of rushing to Lazarus’s side. It must have been terrible staying put, waiting helplessly as he knew the life drained from Lazarus’s body.

Once the time came, he risked his very life to go out to a place where people had nearly killed him. His disciple Thomas was keenly aware of this risk and resolved to die with him (so much for Doubting Thomas).

Martha and Mary’s words must have pierced his soul— “if you had been here…if only…”

And so he wept on his way to the tomb.

But the story was not over yet.

Lazarus, even in death, heard the voice of his shepherd and came to him.

God breathed into his dead bones, and he lived!

Jesus, the resurrection and the life, overcame death in a final, miraculous sign that pointed toward his own death and resurrection and the final defeat of the power of death.

God brings to life what seems dead, whether dry bones or Lazarus’s body.

And still, while the power of death has been defeated, we still feel its impact in the here and now.

Our bodies still die.

Disasters and wars still devastate our lives.

We still need organizations like Crittenton Services, because there are children who experience unimaginable pain and trauma in their young lives.

We still need groups like our Synod’s antiracism roundtable that will meet this afternoon, because white supremacy is alive and well.

We need activists and artists and community organizers because trans people are being legislated against simply for expressing who they are.

The world is not as it should be.

And still, amidst grief and death, God is still at work.

God is still breathing life into situations that make it seem like death has the last word.

There are organizations like Crittenton and LSS and Lutheran Disaster Response and so many others that are filled with people trying to ease the suffering in the world.

There are activists and artists and educators and others who are striving for equity and justice for all people of all races and ethnicities and genders and sexualities and abilities.

And for every individual who has dedicated their life to a cause like this, there are hundreds and thousands of people who are learning and growing and taking small, brave steps toward making earth a little more as it is in heaven.

There are people coming alongside their neighbors in pain, just as Mary and Martha’s community did for them.

There are people like Thomas, who was willing to put his body on the line for what he believed in.

There are people like you who, whether through your donations or physical presence or prayers, will allow the kids at Crittenton to just be kids today—playing and eating doughnuts and laughing.

By God’s power, in big and small ways, this is how we declare that death doesn’t win.

Jesus’ command to Lazarus’s friends and family was: “unbind him and let him go.”

God has overcome death, even though sometimes it’s hard to recognize that amid the suffering in the world. But our actions together, big and small, guided by the Holy Spirit, unbind the worldand declare that death has no power here.

Let our lives together unbind the world and follow where God’s life-giving breath leads us.

Sermon on John 9:1-41

Pastor Jennifer Garcia

Our Gospel story gets into some tricky territory.

First of all, as often happens in the Gospel of John, this story makes it sound like Jewish people are the bad guys. Of our four Gospels, this one was written last, at a time when the emerging community of Jesus followers was trying to distinguish itself from the Jewish tradition it came from.

So, the Gospel of John portrays “the Jews” as a monolithic group who just don’t get it and is separate from the “correct,” “in-group” of the Jesus followers. When you add two millennia of anti-Semitism and Christian supremacy, the us/them language of the Gospel of John becomes harmful to our Jewish siblings.

So, whenever you read “the Jews” in the Gospel of John, it’s helpful to look at who is actually being talked about. Often, it’s the religious authorities who were trying to protect their tradition in occupied territory. They were skeptical of this radical rabbi, Jesus, who might get them in trouble with the Roman Empire.

Most importantly, when Jesus says things that sound harsh toward Jewish people, it’s crucial to remember that Jesus was Jewish. When he says harsh things, it’s more like one of us holding accountable our siblings at another Christian church in our neighborhood. For Jesus, there was no us/them divide. For Jesus, there pretty much never is.

Another tricky thing about this story is the healing itself. As all too often happens, there is a lot of talking about, rather than to, a disabled person, or in this case, a formerly disabled person.

And his disability is spiritualized: blindness is made into a metaphor for lack of insight and understanding. This is unfair to people in the visually impaired community. One’s ability to see has nothing to do with one’s cognitive, intuitive, or spiritual capacities.

I can’t help but feel like the one who should be central to this story is being used as a plot device: because of his disability, healing, and place in society.

Jesus doesn’t even ask him if he wants sight.

Then, his neighbors don’t recognize him and are so suspicious that they go to the religious authorities.

The religious authorities interrogate him and his parents and then him again.

Then, he’s kicked out of his community.

His interaction with Jesus had life-altering consequences far beyond being able to see.

Often in biblical healing stories, the healed person is restored to their community. “Healing” can be distinguished from “curing,” because the experience encompasses more than the literal curing of a disease or change of ability. Healing can involve restoration of spiritual, emotional, and/or social health. But in this story, the person who had been blind is rejected from his community. In some ways, it seems like he’s worse off than before his encounter with Jesus.

His curing has not really brought about healing.

And yet, when he is at his lowest point after having been interrogated, investigated, and rejected, Jesus hears about it and seeks him out.

Jesus finds him.

Then, they have a powerful conversation, in which the person who had been blind declares his belief in Jesus. He trusts in Jesus, despite his treatment by his community.

Instead of a healing story, we can also read this as a call story.

This person had a transformational encounter with Jesus: Jesus mixed his own spit with earth—not unlike God creating humanity out of the dust of the earth in the beginning—and Jesus touched him with that creative mud.

Then, Jesus told him to go wash—a sort of baptism—in a pool named “Sent.”

Another encounter with Jesus shows the person’s insight and growing trust in Jesus.

God’s creative power mixed with cleansing baptismal waters and a growing spiritual understanding: Jesus is calling a new disciple here.

This new disciple is misunderstood and then shunned by his community, but Jesus is calling him to a new community in the Reign of God.

The new disciple’s belief is more than mental agreement with a set of statements about who Jesus is. He’s trusting Jesus to bring him into a new community and new way of life. Belief in the Bible is never just intellectual. A call story is about changing someone’s life.

Jesus in this call story is found in the margins, commissioning and equipping disciples among those who are overlooked and excluded.

Lest we look down our noses at the religious leaders in this story who just don’t seem to get it and exclude the person who had been blind, there are still so many people who are ignored and pushed to the margins today.

Since we’ve already touched on disabilities, let’s explore that further.

So much in our society is set up in a way that excludes, marginalizes, and disadvantages people with disabilities.

Some things have shifted to make spaces and opportunities more accessible. For instance, the Americans with Disabilities Act of 1990 made it illegal to discriminate based on disability and enacted a lot of accommodations for employment, public facilities, housing, etc. There’s still, of course, a lot of room for improvement, but it was an important step.

And in Jesus’ example of inclusion and empowering the marginalized, one might expect that churches would have celebrated such an achievement for civil rights.

Alas, that was not the case.

The Collaborative on Faith and Disability described it this way:

“In the passing of the ADA, the religious communities of the USA essentially asked to be excused from the table. For a number of reasons, the act exempted faith communities from parts of the ADA even though it does impact new construction and some congregational programs. Whatever the rationale, and in spite of great progress in inclusive faith communities since 1990, that action confirmed the feelings of many people with disabilities that the religious community was not an ally.”[1]

While I understand that there are beautiful, historic church buildings like this one that would have been very difficult and expensive to make fully accessible, I wish we could say that Christians were at the forefront of striving for equity instead of putting our buildings and bank accounts before people.

There is much, much more to explore and wrestle with when it comes to ableism and inclusion. This needs to be an ongoing discussion, and I personally have a lot of privilege in this area, so I ask that you keep me accountable to continue learning and striving for justice.

In our Gospel story, Jesus was found making disciples at the margins. Jesus is very often found at the margins of society—wherever people are ignored, excluded, and disadvantaged.

He seeks out, includes, and celebrates people who have been pushed aside by society.

If we want to follow Jesus, we need to go where he goes and do the things he does.

If we’re looking for Jesus, we’ll find him in the margins.

We’ll find him standing outside the door that is too narrow for his wheelchair.

We’ll find him at the bottom of the stairs his legs are too shaky to climb.

We’ll find him at home watching church on YouTube, because his immune system makes it too risky to be around so many people.

The Reign of God is abundant and inclusive, and it starts at the margins.

When we put people first instead of buildings and bank accounts,

When we answer Jesus’ call that causes us to get kicked out of our communities,

When we seek the true healing of our spirits and relationships and social systems so that everyone is valued and celebrated as they are,

We’ll find Jesus there.

That is the healing we need.

[1]https://politicaltheology.com/excused-from-the-table-churches-and-the-americans-with-disabilities-act-lorraine-cuddeback/