Do We See the Lord?

When we were on our honeymoon in Ireland, Denise and I did a fair amount of wandering about. One of those days when we grabbed the map and simply drove about to see what captured our spirits was the day we found this High Cross at Dysert O’Day near Corofin, County Clare, Ireland. The cross is described as a beautiful example of a 12^th century illuminated cross. At the top of the cross is a representation of the crucifixion of a fully clothed Jesus. Below is the figure of a bishop in a mitre, St Tola who founded the monastery whose ruins are still on the grounds. The cross, according to the inscription on the base was “newly repaired by Michael O’Dea son of Connor Crone O’Dea in the year 1683”!

Another cross that I treasure is a cross that I bought at St Bernard’s Abbey in Cullman, Alabama where I went on a retreat in 2013. It was a contemplative retreat that was a part of Columbia Theological Seminary’s Certificate in Christian Spiritual Formation program. This is a replica of the pectoral cross that Pope Francis wears. It is called the Good Shepherd Cross. It is the same cross that he had when he was a bishop and a cardinal. Unlike previous papal crosses, this one is very simple and lacking the jewels and adornment that is typical of the crosses of previous Popes. The Good Shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep…

I am focusing on these crosses because tomorrow is Easter Sunday. Over the years and around the world, I have seen many crosses and many crucifixes. Some are stylized and others are quite graphic and dramatic. I remember one year for Good Friday worship in the Air Force, I pulled the Crucifix out instead of the Protestant empty cross for worship. Sometimes, in our hurry to get to Easter Sunday, we Protestants forget the horror of Good Friday and what our Savior experienced at the hands of the Empire. However, we can also get so caught up in the blood and the gore that we miss the point as well. These two crosses above are a reminder to us that it isn’t so much about the gruesome and graphic details as it is about the totality of the experience. Who was it that died upon the cross? The Good Shepherd who secured the 99 sheep and went out to look for the one lost sheep! The itinerant rabbi/preacher/teacher/miracle-worker who was Mary and Joseph’s son!

“Early 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.” (John 20:1) Mary had waited all weekend long to make this trip to the tomb. She had stood with Mary, the mother of Jesus, at the foot of the cross on that horrible Friday. She had witnessed his silent suffering. She had witnessed the tortured body of her dearest friend who saw her for who she was, a redeemed child of God, go through the final death agonies. She had watched as they put a spear into his side and water mixed with blood flowed out.  Perhaps she held Mary as she sobbed with the final breath her dear and precious son drew on that day. She had watched as Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus claimed the shattered body of her Lord and carried it off to the tomb. She had watched as they hastily prepared Jesus’ body for burial in a race against the sunset and the beginning of the Sabbath.

Now it was the first day of the new week. The Sabbath was past and a new day had dawned. She went to the tomb and found the stone rolled away and the tomb empty. Racing back to the disciples in disbelief, she told them about the empty tomb. Peter and the beloved disciple (John) raced to the tomb themselves and discovered it was exactly how Mary Magdalene had described it. Peter, Mister Ready, Shoot, Aim, as I fondly refer to him ducked into the tomb first. Then John looked into the tomb and he believed. I think that they believed that Jesus’ body was gone, but they didn’t yet fully understand what had happened. Following that, Peter and John returned to their homes according to John’s account. But Mary Magdalene couldn’t tear herself away from the tomb. She stood in the garden and wept.

Can you imagine her tears? The one man who understood her, loved her, and showed her God’s grace was dead. And if that wasn’t enough, his body had been stolen! She had come to offer one last gesture of love by preparing his body properly for burial. Yet that gesture was taken away from her! Her tears must have been bitter and overwhelming.

As Mary stood before the empty tomb and wept, she too looked into the  tomb and saw what Peter and John had not seen. Two angels in white were sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying. One sat at the head and the other at the feet. (John 20:12) They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” and she replied, “they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” (John 20:13)

Where have they taken him? Why have they taken the broken and battered body of my Lord? Why was I robbed of the last gift that I could give him? Why wasn’t I allowed to tenderly prepare his body for a proper burial? Why wasn’t I allowed to wash the blood, sweat, and tears from his broken body? Why… Why… Why!

She then turned around and saw through her tears a man who must be the gardener. Tell me, friend, where have they taken him? If you took his body away, please, for the love of all that is holy, show me where you have taken him and I will take him away!

Ringing in her ears must have been some of the last words she had heard Jesus cry out from the cross. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Now, she felt abandoned and forsaken herself. She had been robbed of her one last opportunity to give to Jesus but a portion of all that he had given to her.

The single word she heard next must have been overwhelming. She heard him say her name. “Mary” was all he said. No, this wasn’t the gardener, it was her Lord! Her mind raced… Jesus, it’s you? Really?  All she could spit out though was one word… Rabbouni! Teacher! When he called her by name, she recognized him immediately!

Dear reader, over two thousand years later, all we have are the stories that have been passed down from generation to generation before being written down. I will admit that it is difficult to put ourselves into the shoes (or rather sandals) of Mary, Peter, and John. Yes, we have our pageantry and our displays of piety. But I often wonder if we are just as blind as Mary was when she first encountered who she thought was the gardener. Do you hear him calling your name? In the midst of the pageantry and the liturgy and the loud hymns of praise, do you see him? Do you recognize him? As I often remind my congregants, when I ask these questions (or point my finger) I am pointing four fingers back at myself and asking myself the same hard questions.

Michael, do you see me? Michael, do you hear me? Michael, do you recognize me? Yes, I am the Good Shepherd. Yes, I have risen from the grave. Yes, I am calling you to serve. The message of Easter, my dear brother, is NOT the empty tomb! It is what happens afterwards! It is what happens when you truly see me… in the eyes of the poor, oppressed, and the homeless… in the eyes of the widows and orphans… in the eyes of those whom “proper” christians (yes, lower case is intentional) deem somehow less than worthy…

Do you hear him? Do you truly see him? Are you willing to serve him? He is calling you, dear reader, to do more than give lip service to his name. He is calling you to do justice, to love kindness, and to walk humbly with God! He is calling you to rise out of the grave of your own making or the sepulcher created by so-called christians who are more concerned about their own salvation that they miss the calling to LOVE!

Dear reader, hear him! He is calling you by name! He is calling you to love and to serve as he has shown us! Do you hear him? Do you recognize him? Will you follow?