Easter Sunday - The Icon of the Two Marys

On the order of the Roman governor, Pilate, Jesus had been taken down from the cross for burial.  Joseph from Arimethea had secured the body, wrapped it in a linen cloth, and rolled a stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and left.  Matthew's gospels records two witnesses to this: Mary Magdalene and another Mary.

The two Marys keep a vigil for the man who has changed their lives.  Perhaps they sit in sorrow, grieving that they will never see him again see him again.  Yet their vigil might be interpreted another way.  Could their presence at the tomb be a sign of expectancy?  Is something about to happen?

The gospel writers had to deal with the fact that Jesus' inner circle of followers had abandoned him.  The women keeping vigil as mourners became a bridge for Matthew's gospel--a bridge from Jesus' absence to his resurrected presence. They became the first witnesses and the first apostles, being instructed by an angel to take the good news of Jesus' resurrection to the disciples.  They were also a bridge of reconciliation between a forgiving Christ and the men who had deserted him—whom he now calls his brothers.

Can you put yourself in their place? To find yourself being confronted by some rather scary divine power—in the earthquake and the angel appearing like lightning.  We come to church on Sunday morning with certain expectations for how the service should go, what the music should sound like, and how compelling the sermon should be.

The two Marys must have had expectations of how their morning would go.  As they walked towards the tomb, they might have expected to sit quietly in front of the closed tomb to continue grieving.  If they had heard about the Roman guards, they might have been determined to show their courage in the face of oppression. But were they expecting the power of God to act in such a scary and dramatic fashion?  Probably not one bit more than we would expect such a demonstration of divine power as we prepare to receive Holy Communion!

Matthew's account of how Christ's resurrection is discovered with an empty tomb and an angelic messenger makes certain theological points about the mystery of this moment when death was defeated and Christ's plan to reconnect with the disciples in a place--Galilee--which points beyond the confines of Jerusalem and first century Judaism.

Yet the way Matthew tells this story speaks to the intimacy, which these women felt about their relationship with Jesus.  They may not have understood what he had taught about his rising after three days, but they were not giving up on this important relationship.  Knowing Jesus, listening to him teach, seeing the miracles he wrought--all these things changed them in a way that could not be changed back.  They were not ready to "move on."

Our relationship with Jesus through our faith in him could not be just like the Marys, because we were not his first century companions.  Still they provide an example of loving faithfulness in the context of great tragedy that we might well emulate.  We have come to know Jesus in a variety of ways--through our mentors in the faith, through studying scripture, through prayer, and through receiving the sacrament of Eucharist.  Our faith can be challenged, just as theirs was, by difficult, sad, unfair, perhaps even horrific circumstances in our lives. Would the day after such a tragedy find us quietly attentive to what God chooses to reveal to us?  The steadfastness of the Marys shows an ideal of discipleship--patience in waiting on God.

Even with their steadfastness, this experience had so unsettled them with both fear and joy that they RAN to tell what they had seen--the absence of the body of Jesus and a promise that he would reconnect with the disciples.  Then an even more amazing moment happened—Jesus was no longer absent, but he was present! He had come to them to reassure them.  His love for them and theirs for him caused them to reach out to touch him and to worship him. The intimacy of their relationship defines what loving God with all your heart truly looks like.. Perhaps it also shows us what salvation means: patiently waiting for God to reveal God's self and withholding nothing of yourself, responding with love and worship.

I believe the reason most of us came to St. Nicholas' this morning was our hope of encountering the risen Lord.  Using the eyes of our hearts, let us hold onto this image--this icon even--of the Marys encountering the risen Christ.  Let it inspire us to steadfastness.  Let it inspire us to love God with all of who we are--not only for today, but for all the days we are given on this earth.