John 20:1-18

I used to dread the first day of school. From grade school to middle school to junior high; and high school was even worse, since we started then change classes and having a different teacher for every subject.  I dreaded that first day for a really stupid reason, but one that over the years built up so much so that I would start thinking as September rolled near: “Here we go again.”

See, the first day of class meant that the teachers were going to call the roll. Of course, they had to know that whoever was supposed to be there was actually there. And every year, pretty much every class, no matter whether it was an honors chemistry class, or physics, history, music theory or gym… I’d listen to the list being read, knowing where I fit alphabetically, until they’d come to my name. Five simple letters. D-O-N-A-T.  Supposedly educated people. But they could never say it right. 

I’d wait. And I’d hear.  “Appleton… Baxter… Carter…. Uhhh…. Donut?” And everybody would laugh. And the teacher would make some lame joke. And I’d say, with a sarcasm that never quite registered, “Oh, I’ve never heard that before! It’s Do- naaat. I don’t see a ‘u’ in there, do you?”  But apparently, they pretty near always did.  You know, your pride takes a lot of easy hits when you’re in public school anyway, and this really wore on me.

It’s stupid, but I think that because of that, I somehow ended up trying to keep my head down, trying to ‘fly under the radar’ throughout my young life simply because I didn’t want to have to hear people butcher my name … and then smirk.

By the time I entered the ministry, ‘flying low’ became my mantra, especially with regard to the hierarchy of our Conference!  Not for the same reason, but by then it was a pattern. I felt I had the further incentive in that I had heard that the pastors who were the most ‘visible’ (to conference leadership) were the ones most likely to be moved! And since I’ve never approached a pastoral appointment looking ahead, wondering where I was going to go next, I did whatever I thought I could to keep from being noticed.  So I could stay where I was.

And I thought I was doing pretty well at that. Until one Annual Conference a few years ago. We were still in Ocean City and Bishop Johnson was presiding. I never had a face-to-face conversation with Bishop Johnson… until this day.  It was between sessions, everyone was heading to lunch, or to a break of some sort. I was sitting in my seat reading a book, when I realized that someone was standing next to me in the aisle.

I looked up and it was our Bishop, smiling at me with his hand out. I stood up, and shook it and he said, “Steve, I have to tell you: whenever I hear your name mentioned on the cabinet its always good.”  I’ll tell you the truth, my first reaction to that wasn’t ‘How nice that the Bishop thinks well of me!’, but rather, it was “So why is my name coming up at Cabinet meetings?” I was a bit freaked out. He knows my name! This can’t be good!

But the more I thought about it, it began to dawn on me: sometimes it’s awkward to be known, and sometimes it’s nice to be known. …and you know what? Sometimes it is wonderful.

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I’ve come to believe that there are three basic ways that people ‘celebrate’ Easter. Three levels of recognition. The ‘lowest’ level is to see this day simply as a holiday, possibly even a religious holiday. People may or may not choose to recognize the day by attending a worship service; the most important thing about it is Easter baskets for the kids, or getting dressed up, or a nice dinner, a day off of work, and watching the NCAA playoffs… (none of which is bad per se!)

A deeper level of approaching Easter would be demonstrated by those who have some measure of faith; i.e., they see the implications of what it could mean if someone really did rise from the dead, and there is an inner conviction that this, in fact… likely … happened. But still, the day is ‘celebrated’ at arm’s length. It is approached from the vantage point of an observer – kind of walking by the empty tomb, perhaps, and thinking, “I’m glad it’s empty!”

But I think that there is a third ‘level’, if you will; and frankly, it is my prayer and hope that every person who will hear this message, and every person who sings the songs this morning, and every one who walks the halls of these buildings today will find this.

It is an understanding that is personified by the interaction of Jesus with a very unlikely witness to this event that changed history: a woman by the name of Mary Magdalene. Mary was the first one who took Easter personally.

This Mary had a history with Jesus. She was one of a small group of women who provided support for Jesus and the 12 disciples in their public ministry – (Luke 8:3, they “were helping to support them out of their own means.”)   She is described as one from whom Jesus had cast out seven demons. Now however you interpret that, we can at least agree that she had at one point been a terribly hurting soul, and because of her connection with Jesus, she was now at a different – a better – place in her life.

She was happy, she was grateful. She was likely, hopeful as well – maybe for the first time ever.  Some traditions associate Mary Magdalene with the ‘sinful woman’ who washed Jesus’ feet with her tears and dried them with her hair at the home of Simon the Pharisee. Whether that was her or not, that picture of deep thankfulness and joy is likely very accurate.

So we can only imagine how devastated she must have been to have seen Jesus die on that Cross. Not only was Jesus her friend, but he was her Deliverer… she, like many others, had put her hope in him… so there was this sense of personal loss combined with an even more profound loss of Faith.  What happened?  How did it all go so wrong? Where do I go from here?

And if all these events weren’t bad enough, the bottom completely falls out from under her as she is the first one to arrive at the tomb on Sunday morning… coming with spices and ointments to finish the preparation of Jesus’ body for burial… and she realizes that his body is not longer there.  So now there is grief upon grief… someone has desecrated the tomb, she thinks.

She runs and tells Peter and another disciple (probably John) what had happened. They, in turn, run to the tomb, look in, and then leave. Mary, devastated, simply remains there in the garden, weeping.  She’s at the bottom of the bottom. All hope is gone. 

One of our young Sunday School students asked me a very thoughtful question last week: regarding “Good Friday”.  They asked, “Why do we call it ‘Good’?” Considering the pain, the grief, the injustice there on the Cross, that’s an excellent question. And I said that Friday is only ‘good’ from the perspective of Easter. If not for Easter, it would have been “Bad Friday”, or “Sad Friday”… or, truthfully, we wouldn’t be remembering it at all.

Well, for Mary, here at the entrance to this tomb, it was still ‘sad Friday’. And there, in the twilight of that early morning, she looks into the tomb and sees two angels. They ask her:

“Woman, why are you crying?”
She says, “They have taken my Lord away, and I don’t know where they have put him.”

Then she turns, and sees Jesus standing there, but she doesn’t realize that it is him.

He asked her, “Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?” 
       Thinking he was the gardener, she said, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.”

And then, verse 16:  Jesus said to her, “Mary.”

And in the speaking of her name something happens. Mary’s eyes are opened. The new reality of what all this means begins to fill her soul, and her joy comes flooding back. From there it flows in an ever -widening stream that reaches across geography, and time, right to this place; here… today.

That third level of understanding Easter is personified by Mary: recognizing that this is personal. Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, has come among us… he lived and died not just as some great religious figure, not just as the Savior of ‘the World’ but as my Redeemer. My salvation. And yours. He did all this for me. He did it for you. He knows your name.

I started thinking about this… about how this is not an isolated idea in the Bible, but, in fact, is a theme that runs throughout the Scriptures. From Jesus walking along a crowded street in the old city of Jericho. People all around him. Lots of noise and confusion when suddenly Jesus stops, looks up, and points out a man who has climbed up a tree in order to see him. And he says, “Zacchaeus, come down. I’m coming to your house for dinner.” 

The last thing that Zacchaeus wanted was to be recognized. He would have tried very hard to stay out of the public eye. That’s because as a tax collector, a Roman collaborator, he was hated by pretty much everybody. What a surprise it must have been to have heard his name called out; and such an invitation as this:  “I want to come to your house!”

Nathaniel was a man who was invited by Philip to come and meet Jesus. As they approached Him, Jesus says, “Here truly is an Israelite in whom there is no deceit” (John 1: 47).  Nathaniel is amazed, and asks, “How do you know me?”  But notice: Jesus did know him.  He knew not only his name, he knew his heart, his character.

The woman at the well, who after her encounter with Jesus goes around telling her friends, “Come and see the man who knows everything about me!”  He knows… he knows me.

Jesus said in Matthew ‘the very hairs on your head are numbered.’

In Psalm 139 we read

You have searched me, Lord, and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise;
you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue you, Lord, know it completely. You hem me in behind and before,

The Old Testament prophet Isaiah tells us that this knowing is embedded deeply in the very character of God and is connected to his sacrifice for us. He writes,  [Isaiah 49:15-17]

“Can a mother forget the infant at her breast, 
   walk away from the baby she bore?
But even if mothers forget, 
   I'd never forget you—never.
Look, I've written your names on the palms of my hands.”

Your name is written on the palm of his hand… as Mary realized that morning in the garden, when Jesus whispers her name: “Mary!” it all became very personal.

She knows immediately: it was about her. And it is also about you, and about me.  Our names are written on the palm of his hands. Right there in the nail prints.

In the gospel of John an earlier conversation of Jesus’ is recorded.  He is explaining his relationship to people using the image of a shepherd, the good shepherd. And he says:

[John 10:2-4]
The one who enters by the gate is the shepherd of the sheep. The gatekeeper opens the gate for him, and the sheep listen to his voice. He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out. When he has brought out all his own, he goes on ahead of them, and his sheep follow him because they know his voice.

He calls his own sheep by name and leads them out… and his sheep follow him because they know his voice.  Mary recognized that voice in the Garden. And it was calling her name.

Friends, do you recognize his voice this morning?  Because he is calling each one of us here today, ‘Follow me.’ He is whispering your name. What we’re celebrating here today is not just some good idea, or great event. It’s not just history – it is personal.  Christ died for your sins and mine. And he rose for you. For YOU.

He knows your name.