Back when I was growing up, there was a pattern almost everyone followed, or at least we appeared to. We woke on Sunday, got into dress clothes, went to Sunday school and worship, and topped it off with a hearty lunch.
Then, to further date myself, we would tune our black and white tv on to one of the three channels available, and watch The Magical World of Disney, the ONLY show available on Sunday evenings.
If you were new to a town, you quickly found a church of the denomination you were comfortable with, and sometimes you went to a new members' class. There you made sure you understood what these Presbyterians, Baptists, Catholics, or whatever denomination actually believed. At the end of the class, you confessed that you believed it too.
In the meantime you looked at everyone around you and you learned how to behave. People here wear this; we don't wear that. We stand at this time, raise our hands above our heads or keep them quietly in our lap, shout Amen or keep quiet, we learn where to park and who to talk to and if they serve refreshments at the end. And then, finally, if you decided this was the right church for you, you joined. You became a member, and at that point, you officially belonged.
Believe, behave, belong. That was the pattern. You didn’t come to church unless you were a believer, or at least told everyone that you believed what they did.
But the curious thing is, when you pay attention to how Jesus worked, how he transformed confused or curious individuals into disciples, you see that Jesus didn't work that way.
Just look at how the women and disciples and Mary responded to idea of Jesus' resurrection that first Easter.
These were people who had spent years with Christ. Jesus had spoken to them numerous times about his death and resurrection. He'd made analogies, he'd looked them in the eye, he'd warned them of what was to come. They'd even seen, firsthand, Jesus raise people from the dead and yet . . . no one got it that morning. It was total confusion.
The first group of people we find is simply called “The Women.” Now, in order to get the gist of what Mark is telling us here, you need to know a bit about how Mark the writer has approached the story of Jesus.
When Jesus was walking around and doing his ministry, Mark is known for the “great mystery.” Every person Jesus healed, he told one thing. Don’t tell anyone. But these miraculous healings couldn’t be kept quiet and every time one happened, they couldn’t help it. They went and told anyone. Until the crowds became so huge, he couldn’t even go into towns. They did not come to hear what he had to say, instead, they came to see miracles.
So you have Jesus saying, time after time, don’t tell anyone, but they did. Now you have the women being told – Go and tell the disciples, but instead, they run away and keep silent. Obviously, at some point they must have spoken, since the incident is recorded, but the truth is, they didn’t get it at all.
And Mary? She talked to two angels who confirmed Jesus' resurrection, and still she wept and was confused.
If you're sitting here this Easter morning and you're not exactly sure you know how you're supposed to behave, and if you're not exactly sure you believe, then listen closely: You're in the right place.
The people who were the most in the know didn't know what was going on. They weren't even close to having it all figured out. The ones closest to Jesus didn’t have a clue or even believe that it was really happening.
The best moment comes when Jesus walks up to Mary and she thinks this man she loves, this man who she had been with every single day, is the gardener. She cannot fathom Jesus himself is actually alive.
But when He says her name, and it all begins to fall into place—she knew that the one who loved her claimed her. She belonged.
Because before you behave or you believe, you belong. First, God says, know that I know who you are. I know your name. “Mary, it's me,” Jesus says.
You see, Mary had experienced Jesus as someone who not only was his friend, but someone who had been healed by him. Her relationship with Jesus was that of mentor, healer, friend.
But the Jesus who stands before her now, she doesn't recognize. Jesus says, “Whom are you looking for?” Maybe she doesn't recognize this Jesus because she has taken him for granted. Maybe she doesn’t immediately recognize him because she has been crying for too long and her eyes are swollen shut. But for whatever reason, he is a stranger.
And then Jesus, the gardener, says her name. And when he speaks her name, she hears it, just as a child will recognize a parent’s voice. He is the one who loves her, she belongs to him.
People think they only belong in a church if they get it all, believe it all, know it all. But the truth is that the church is a place where people come to doubt, and be afraid, and ask questions. If this is you, then this is right where you belong.
Over the next few weeks, I will be continuing this theme of the confusion of that Easter morning. For the last few weeks my theme has been about how the teachings of Jesus turned the world upside down. Now until Pentecost, I will be covering the flip side of the coin and will be talking about how Jesus turned the world upside down by showing up after he died.
We have the disciples who left town walking with Jesus and not recognizing him until he breaks bread with them. We have our honorary “Show Me” disciple telling the others he won’t believe unless he actually touches Jesus. We have disciples hiding in a room and when Jesus shows up, he has to prove he isn’t a ghost by eating with them. No one got it. Not one single person. So if you don’t get it, or have a hard time believing it, welcome to the family,
I don't fully understand the resurrection. Never will. You'll never fully understand it either.
And none of us will ever behave the way we think we're supposed to, but know this: Even if you don’t know who Jesus is, he knows who you are, just like he knew Mary when she didn’t know him. You have a place here. You are known and you belong. That's a good place to start. Amen
