04/05/2026 - John 20:1-18, Easter Sunday

You can watch the sermon here.

Scripture: John 20:1-18

Early in the morning of the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been taken away from the tomb.

She ran to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said, “They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they’ve put him.”

Peter and the other disciple left to go to the tomb. They were running together, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter and was the first to arrive at the tomb.

Bending down to take a look, he saw the linen cloths lying there, but he didn’t go in. Following him, Simon Peter entered the tomb and saw the linen cloths lying there. He also saw the face cloth that had been on Jesus’ head. It wasn’t with the other clothes but was folded up in its own place.

Then the other disciple, the one who arrived at the tomb first, also went inside. He saw and believed. They didn’t yet understand the scripture that Jesus must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to the place where they were staying.

Mary stood outside near the tomb, crying. As she cried, she bent down to look into the tomb. She saw two angels dressed in white, seated where the body of Jesus had been, one at the head and one at the foot. The angels asked her, “Woman, why are you crying?”

She replied, “They have taken away my Lord, and I don’t know where they’ve put him.” As soon as she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she didn’t know it was Jesus.

Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who are you looking for?”

Thinking he was the gardener, she replied, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him and I will get him.”

Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

She turned and said to him in Aramaic, “Rabbouni” (which means Teacher).

Jesus said to her, “Don’t hold on to me, for I haven’t yet gone up to my Father. Go to my brothers and sisters and tell them, ‘I’m going up to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”

Mary Magdalene left and announced to the disciples, “I’ve seen the Lord.” Then she told them what he said to her.

~

Three days ago, the song of Jesus’s life and ministry was cut off by a Roman cross.

His body was claimed by two secret disciples of Jesus, Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus, a Pharisee. They hurried to prepare him so that he could be buried before Passover, and so their activities wouldn’t reach the ears of the high council. So taking Jesus’s body from the cross, they quickly wrapped it in linens and spices, and laid it in a nearby tomb.

Then all fell as silent as the grave. For three days, the disciples hid, whispering their prayers, going through the motions of the Passover meal with their hearts laden with grief. Saturday night they went to bed, the silence pressing into their ears and mouths, wondering if they will have the strength to get up in the morning.

But Sunday morning, with the night still holding on, in the quiet of the garden where the tomb still rests, something began to hum again.

Mary Magdalene’s the first person to notice. Scripture tells us that during his ministry, Jesus cast seven demons out of her. Since then she’s looked out for him, providing for him financially and taking care of him as he ministered to others.

When most of the disciples abandoned Jesus when he was arrested, Mary kept looking out for him. She was with the women who stayed near the cross, watching over Jesus as he died. She seemed to keep watch over Jesus’s body as it was taken down from the cross and prepared by Joseph and Nicodemus, because she knew where the tomb was where he was laid. And once Passover had ended, she’s drawn back to the tomb to keep watch over him again. Just as she’d done for the past few years.

So with the birdsong just beginning to hum through the cool morning, Mary approaches the tomb. Her breath catches in her throat as she has to walk by the spot where her teacher, her savior, was crucified. But she steels herself and hurries past to reach the garden where the tomb rests.

As she steps into the garden, she immediately knows something is off. The stone that should be sitting in front of the hole carved into the rock is gone. Maybe her mind jumps to grave robbers, to the high council conducting a cover-up, even to Roman soldiers going back on their deal and taking Jesus’s body in one last stab of cruelty.

Her mind definitely doesn’t jump to a miracle.

She doesn’t dare get closer. Instead she runs and tells Peter and John, who race back to the tomb without her. By the time she’s caught up with them, they’d already seen the empty tomb with the linens laying where Jesus had been. They’re already turning around to head back to where they were staying. Their eyes confirm the worst without her even having to ask: Jesus is missing.

Mary doesn’t go with them as they leave, and they don’t pull her away. Instead she stands there, crying the same tears that generations of people have cried when the worst has happened and they wonder where God is in the midst of their grief and fear.

And in her grief and questions and fear, Jesus shows up.

He didn’t show up for Peter, who was the first to enter the tomb.

He didn’t show up for the beloved disciple, who saw the cloths and believed.

He showed up for Mary, still crying and unsure of what to believe or where to go from here.

He didn’t need her to fully trust and believe in him in order for him to show up for her.

It’s the melody we’ve seen sung throughout Scripture up until this point. From the time of Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and Joseph, to the Hebrew people enslaved in Egypt, to the exile in Babylon, we see people cry out to God again and again in times that are marked by fear, violence, and death.

We’ve read Psalms written by everyone from kings to ordinary people, asking for God to show up, for God to rescue them, even when it seems impossible and the evil seems insurmountable.

But even in the most impossible of circumstances, God still shows up. It just might be in ways we don’t expect.

Because with her eyes still clouded by tears, Mary isn’t looking for Jesus to show up alive. She’s still looking for a body she can lay back to rest in its grave. That’s why she doesn’t recognize Jesus standing right in front of her.

As to why she thinks he’s the gardener, maybe it’s because he was straightening up from tending to the plants when she saw him.

Or maybe she just can’t imagine anyone else being in the garden right now. Especially not one in the shadow of crosses.

But who can blame her? We all have stories in our lives where we missed Jesus standing right in front of us. We have conversations with strangers at train stations and on street corners where only later we register their emotional and spiritual significance. And sometimes we go through things in life where we’re expecting God to show up in a certain way, only to realize much later that God showed up in a way we weren’t expecting.

When I was in seminary, I ended up leaving the ordination process in the United Methodist Church for a variety of reasons. At the time I was scared and wondering what my future ministry would look like if I wasn’t going to be ordained as a UMC minister. But if I hadn’t stepped away, I would’ve never gotten my internship that led to my residency program that led to me coming to Union Church of Lake Bluff. God showed up in the middle of the uncertain chaos and put me on the path I needed to be on. Even though that path looked nothing like I had planned, it turned out so much better than I could’ve ever imagined.

And at this point in her life, Mary cannot imagine Jesus being alive. She asks the gardener if he was the one who carried Jesus away, and if so, to tell her where he is so she can get him. Never mind the fact that she would be carrying a fully grown man and trying to roll a several ton stone by herself. She’s always looked out for Jesus, and the disciples have left her alone anyway. She’s not going to get them again.

Her mind is probably already racing with ways she can get Jesus’s body back, maybe even thinking of trying to find another place to bury him where he wouldn’t be found again.

But then Jesus says her name. And it’s when he says Mary’s name that she realizes she doesn’t need to search for him after all. Because Jesus found her first.

Mary cries out in joy, reaching out to him, maybe to take his hands in hers, maybe to press her palms to his face to reassure herself that it’s him.

In many translations Jesus’s next words to her are, “Don’t touch me,” which gives connotations of him stepping back from her, putting distance between the two of them. But here scholars have translated the Greek as, “Don’t hold on to me,” which I tend to like better. Because I don’t think that Jesus would’ve stepped away from Mary. I think he would’ve taken her hands and held them, let her reassure herself that he’s actually alive, just as he’ll do with the disciple Thomas in just a few chapters.

However he does let her know right away that he’s still not going to be around for much longer, setting her expectations before she can even form them. Because when Jesus shows up in one way, that doesn’t mean that’s the only way he’s going to show up. While Jesus is in our churches, our hymns, and our prayers, we also find him tending to gardens, feeding the hungry, healing the sick, and especially in every single face we see.

Meeting Jesus in one way hopefully means our eyes will be opened a little wider to see the other ways in which he’ll show up. So that maybe next time we won’t mistake him for a gardener, but instead see the face of Christ as we encounter Christ in the moment rather than realizing it afterwards.

And Jesus and Mary’s encounter here is remarkably brief. Because he’s got something for her to do. He tells her - still holding her hands, I’d like to think - to go tell his brothers and sisters, their loved ones, that has returned.

The hope and joy that he’s brought to Mary by coming back up from the dead is not meant to be for her alone. It’s meant to be shared, and he’s tasked her with being the first person to do so.

And she does so! She runs back to the disciples and tells them that she has seen the Lord and conveying to them what Jesus told her to say.

It was the ultimate hope and joy for them, and for us as well.

Because death did not get the last note of the song.

Resurrection did.

Life did.

And it still does.

In overcoming death, especially one at the hands of the violent and cruel Roman Empire, Jesus showed that resurrection is possible.

That no matter what happens-

- no matter what wars are being waged -

- no matter what violence permeates our country -

- no matter what fear and pain grips our communities and homes and hearts -

it does not mean the end of the song of our lives.

Because resurrection is always possible, even from the deepest of graves.

It may take longer than three days, and it may not be a smooth journey. But the love that Jesus showed through his resurrection is the same love that can resurrect us from whatever circumstances we find ourselves in. It’s a resurrection we choose every day when we choose to walk in Jesus’s footsteps, loving God, and loving our neighbors as ourselves.

Because when death tries to have the last word through hunger and starvation, we find resurrection in putting food into people’s hands and mouths.

Because when death tries to have the last word through injustice and conflict and strife, we find resurrection through speaking up for those who are being hurt and making true, equitable peace.

Because when death tries to have the last word through the hate that people can hold for themselves and others, we find resurrection through the love and empathy that we are just as capable of.

Because we can be just like Mary, proclaiming that we have seen the resurrected Christ, the one who overcame death to show up for us, no matter who we are, where we are, or what we’ve done.

Because nothing, not even death, can separate us from the love of Christ.