Jn 20:1-18

15 April 2001

Easter

 

“Mary Magdalene, Apostle to the Apostles”

 

I’ve sometimes thought to myself, “everything is possible at night.”  That thought has occurred to me when I’ve been up very late, and it seems like the whole world is asleep.  The most incredible plans, the wildest ideas, all seem to be quite capable of being accomplished.  There’s the sudden, “Yes!  Why didn’t I think of that before?”  And then when sleep comes, it seems like everything is figured out.  All is right with God and the world.

And then the cold light of morning forces open eyelids that aren’t quite ready to be opened.  The mental cobwebs start to disappear, and a sudden realization takes hold.  What a stupid idea that was!  What in the world was I thinking?  What seemed so clear and so true and so sensible now seems so unclear and so wrong and so ridiculous.  Has this ever happened to anyone here?

To be honest, it’s not always that the thing can’t be done, but that I’m too afraid to do it.  It may require risk and effort and a willingness to fail.  Most of us aren't extremely eager to do those kinds of things.  I'm not, anyway.

I wonder if the disciples, on the day and especially the night of what we now call Holy Saturday, had any of these kind of thoughts.  Jesus had, after all, on occasion made strange predictions that he would rise from the dead.  Could it be that in those dark, lonely, sorrowful hours before dawn that any of them dared to entertain such thoughts?

Our scripture points us to Mary Magdalene, who ventured out to the tomb of Jesus just before sunrise.  We learn from the other gospels that she was with other women, including Mary the mother of James, as she arrived at the gravesite.  They apparently were intending to anoint the body of Jesus, according to the Jewish burial custom.  Still, I wonder what thoughts had filled their minds during that terrible evening.

As the eastern sky began to shift from black to dark blue, and then ever lighter shades of blue, Mary set out to complete her task.  Common sense would have told her that she and the other women had no hope at all of moving the enormous boulder sealing the tomb.  As if in answer to this impossibility, upon arrival they see that somehow the massive stone has been displaced.  What’s more, there doesn’t seem to be anyone inside!  Mary Magdalene is confronted with an empty tomb.

It’s at this point, of verse 2 of chapter 20, that many people believe that two different stories of Easter morning have been combined.^[1]  The argument goes something like this.  Mary runs back and gives her report to Peter and the disciple, as it’s put, “whom Jesus loved.”  That's probably the apostle John.

Anyway, Peter and the beloved disciple then run to the tomb and find nothing but the burial clothing.  And just as verse 10 is telling us simply that “the disciples returned to their homes,” verse 11 breaks in by saying that “Mary stood weeping outside the tomb,” as if she had never left.  Any mention of her return to the tomb with Peter and the beloved disciple is left out.

And that would be strange, given the prominent position of Mary Magdalene in the early church.  All four gospels list her as the first person to see the risen Christ.  And yet, in this inserted story of verses 2 to 10 (if that’s in fact what it is), it’s Peter and the disciple “whom Jesus loved” who actually enter the empty tomb, and as verse 8 puts it, they both “saw and believed.”  This all happens before Mary encounters the risen Lord himself.

The problem is that this contradicts the other gospels, which clearly say that Mary and the other women first see Jesus, and then go and give the news to the disciples.  Mark and Luke add for us that the male disciples don’t believe that the Lord has risen from the dead.  The men consider the report of the women to be “an idle tale” (Lk 24:11).  (Ladies, it seems to be an eternal truth that men have trouble believing what women say!)  And to sum it all up, in verse 18 of today’s reading, Mary apparently makes a second report to the disciples, insisting that she has “seen the Lord.”  So taking just the section that describes Mary Magdalene (vv. 1, 11-18), John’s version agrees with the other gospels.

All right, why have I bothered to mention this idea of a possible other story, one that focuses on Peter and the beloved disciple, being dropped into the main story, one that focuses on Mary Magdalene?  This sounds like the stuff only scholars worry about; it doesn’t seem to make any difference in the real world—where real people work and play and worship and do all the things that make life real.

Some might even wonder what the Lord’s resurrection itself has to do with the real world.  Is it really so important?  Does it really matter that we celebrate Easter?  Some Christians claim that even if Jesus weren’t raised from the dead, it wouldn’t affect their faith.

Other things about Jesus seem to be easier to get a handle on.  For example, when Jesus says, “love your enemies,” as difficult as that is to do, we still have a pretty good idea of what that looks like in the real world.  It also seems easy to picture what his healing power means for us today.  And with the terrible violence loose in our world, even the horror of the crucifixion is—unfortunately—quite imaginable.

But as for the resurrection, and these questions about how the writings of the gospel have been put together, what difference do they make?  Their importance isn’t quite so clear.  But by looking at the way the church of the first and second centuries handled the first Easter, as well as the writings that speak of it, we can better see the meaning for their real world—and can help bridge the gap between their world and ours.  Part of that job is considering the first person to see the risen Jesus, Mary Magdalene.  Because she's the one who brings the news to the other disciples, Mary has often been called “apostle to the apostles.”

But even though she has such a dignified title, Mary Magdalene has received a lot of bad press throughout the centuries.  The worst part of it is that she had formerly been a prostitute, an allegation stated nowhere in the Bible.  What is stated is that she had been demon possessed (Lk 8:2).  Some people have said she's the sinful woman of Luke 8 who washes the feet of Jesus with her hair (vv. 36-50) or that she's the woman caught in adultery in John 8 (vv. 1-11).^[2]  But no one knows for sure.

The “Magdalene” in her name means she was from Magdala, a town on the Sea of Galilee, which apparently had a bad reputation for the amount of prostitution that went on there.^[3]  So on that small amount of circumstantial evidence, Mary became branded as a reformed harlot, a former loose woman.

Our scripture reading describes the event that earned Mary Magdalene the name “apostle to the apostles.”  Apparently all by herself, Mary peeks into the tomb, even while she's crying tears of sorrow.  She’s greeted by two angels who ask her why she’s crying.  Her answer shows how confused she is as to how all this can be happening.

But no sooner has she answered the question of the angels than she turns and sees Jesus himself.  She sees him, but she doesn’t recognize him.  Thinking he’s the gardener, Mary figures that he can explain the missing body of Jesus.

Why doesn’t Mary recognize Jesus?  One suggestion is that it was still too dark, but that doesn’t seem very likely.  After all, the disciples on the road to Emmaus spend a long time with Jesus before realizing who he is (Lk 24:13-35).  It’s not until Jesus speaks her name that the veil over Mary’s mind is lifted.

How can we describe the intensity of the moment that follows?  In what must have been a flood of shock and joy, Mary cries out to the one who she loved because he loved her like no other.  There are other writings from the early church, besides the New Testament, that speak of the relationship that existed between Jesus and Mary Magdalene.  They speak of a relationship, while not romantic, was still one of intimate friendship.  They were very close.

So having said all that, why isn’t Mary able to recognize her dear friend and Lord?  Is it possible that, even with the hints of Jesus and the hope in their hearts, she and the other disciples find it impossible—literally impossible—to envision him as being back from the dead?  And even when presented with the physical evidence—not a ghost, but Jesus in the flesh—even when confronted with that, it's still a barrier too difficult to cross?  It’s been said that it’s “possible for Jesus to be present, and yet for [us] not to recognise him until his word goes home to [us].”^[4]