John’s Gospel says that Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb "while it was still dark" (20:1), that threatening time when Jesus performed some of His most notorious wonders.  Mary is literally in the dark.  Note that the story of the resurrection begins with a woman, a woman who boldly ventures forth, even in the darkness.  Mary Magdalene notices that the stone has been taken from the tomb and apparently assumes that the body has been stolen (20:2).  A natural assumption and probably one most people would have made at the time.  This will be the first in a long series of misapprehensions and incorrect interpretive conclusions by the disciples and others after Easter.  Whatever has happened here in the darkness will be difficult for them to understand.

When the second disciple follows Peter into the tomb and sees the circumstantial evidence, he also "saw and believed" (20:8), but what he "believed" is ambiguous for he seems to believe that the body has been stolen because "he did not know the scripture" (20:9).  Visible evidence in the world is interesting but not too informative without the gift of revelation.  "Then the disciples returned to their homes" (20:10).  Back to their homes!  They "believe" but go back to business as usual, back to the sweet, anesthetizing reassurance of the mundane and the everyday, the predictable and the stable.  I wonder how many of us that describes here this morning.  You say you believe but you go back to your usual, everyday ordinary life and this Easter business changes nothing.  You get dressed up, go to church for an hour and then you have your Easter ham and maybe some candy and then it’s back to work on Monday.  It seems for the disciples it was a similar situation—even though they were with Jesus for three years and sat under His teaching, they still did not believe that He had risen from the dead.  If there is a resurrection it is obviously not some projection or wish-fulfillment on the part of the grieving disciples.  They are quite content to chalk all of this up to the power of death.  The stealing of the body is simply one final indignity worked upon crucified Jesus and His grieving followers.

But Mary stayed, weeping, and stooped to look in the tomb.  Mary remained, in grief, but still daring to linger, to stoop, and to look.  To Mary is given the vision of two angels.  The angels have no message for her, only a question about her grief.  Unlike some of the other angelic visitations in scripture, these angels are ambiguous messengers who do not directly proclaim resurrection.  Mary turns around and sees someone standing there, someone whom she does not know.  Seeing is not yet believing until the figure speaks to her.  Even when the Risen Christ speaks to her, she does not yet know.  Revelation, even that which comes through hearing, is hardly ever self-evident, immediate, at least from our point of view.  She thinks the speaker is the gardener.

Then Jesus calls her by her name, "Mary."  That is all He says.  He does not tell her about His resurrection, He simply calls her.  Yet at that moment of vocation, she hears, she sees, she understands.  However, she even yet calls Him "Teacher," which may be a term of endearment, and of course Jesus is a teacher, but this may also indicate that Mary is yet on the way to a full recognition of Jesus' identity, moving from teacher to "Lord" (20:18).

Jesus says, "Do not hold on to me" (20:17).  The Risen Christ is on the move, ascending, restlessly eluding our grasp.  He is not to be held, even by those who love Him.  Perhaps this is a great warning for those of us who are called to talk about the Risen Christ, the great command of the living Lord, "Do not hold on to me!"  We must find a way to talk about Jesus that is faithful to the encounter that does not attempt to secure, fix, restrain, or limit His movements among us, and His movements beyond us.

The Risen Christ is on the move and now Mary must be on the move.  She goes back to the unbelieving, as yet unseeing disciples, and preaches to them, "I have seen the Lord."  Then "she told them that He had said these things to her."  In John's Gospel, this woman is the first evangelist, the first preacher.  Note that Mary must go to the disciples and preach to them what they do not believe.  Preaching is always concerned with unbelief and the first "unbelievers" who need the good news are Jesus' own disciples (the church) who, in their belief, are the first to disbelieve and the most in need of evangelization.  We learn in the next story, where the Risen Christ must kick through the locked doors of the disciples (church), that they did not believe Mary for they were cowering behind locked doors "for fear" (20:19-23).  So the Risen Christ did for the disciples what Mary alone could not: He came and stood among them and spoke.  He breathed on them and gave them great power. The Risen Christ rises from the tomb and passes through closed doors.  The Risen Christ overcomes all barriers to get to His disciples.

Pilate has shut the door on the King of the Jews once and for all, or so people think.  John says that the disciples gathered that night the first day of the week.  The events of the past week have plunged them all into darkness and now they are cowering together, filled with fear.  The same authorities who had killed Jesus may now be after Jesus' followers.  And the doors are shut.  John says that the doors were shut and locked "from fear."  And they had much for which to be fearful.  But they are also certainly filled with grief.  And well they should grieve, for in the death of Jesus they had suffered a great loss—no wonder they wanted to shut themselves behind closed and locked doors.  That's what the disciples had done.  They had closed the doors on their past with Jesus, and they were adjusting to the facts.  It's over.  It was good while it lasted.  Close the door.

And then, at their lowest, in the dead of night, the Risen Christ appeared before them.  He said, "Peace," to them.  He breathed on them.  He bestowed on them and all believers the power to declare forgiveness to others.  Not that we have the power to forgive sins, but we are given to declare that God forgives sins if you ask and repent.  In short, Jesus gave them all the power and all the Spirit that so empowered His ministry.

But perhaps most amazing of all, Christ came through their locked doors.  The dark tomb could not hold Him, nor could the dark despair and resignation of His followers.  He came back to them, even through their locked doors.  Here is Easter hope.  The resurrection doesn't simply mean that Jesus rose to eternal life.  It doesn't simply mean that we hope to see our loved ones when we die.  It also means that the very first thing that the Risen Christ does is return to the same cowardly and misunderstanding disciples who had so disappointed and forsaken Him.  He came through their locked doors.  I say that is the Easter hope because we gather today, just as those first disciples gathered, as those who are cowardly in our commitment to the way of Jesus and misunderstanding of much of His teaching.  We also gather behind locked doors.  The fire marshal won't let us lock exit doors in many buildings, but there are still locked doors.  There are the doors of our hearts that have locked down in the prison that consists of despair--"God has disappointed me before, I won't trust God again" or "He is hopeless.  He will never get over this addiction" or "I'm dying and I'm dying alone."

All of here have been through difficulties.  There are those here now who are grieving the loss of a loved one.  For some it is a recent loss for others it may be years ago—but the memories are there, the grief is there.  There are those grieving the loss of a son or daughter, a spouse, or the absence of a child who is off to war.  There are those who are grieving because of broken relationships—friendships lost or a marriage that has fallen apart.  Even in the midst of all of our pain and hardship and heartache, there is good news here, great Easter news.  I know that many of you have trouble believing.  You’re here because it’s expected or it seems like your duty or just the “right” thing to do this morning.  You are filled with doubts and some of those doubts are mixed with fear.  Maybe you feel you have failed in your attempts to be a faithful follower of Jesus.  Maybe you have made no attempt at all.  Or perhaps you don't know what tomorrow holds for you, and that scares you.  Well, here's the good news: the Risen Christ can come through locked doors.  He has before and He still does.  It’s both good and bad news that there is no security system that's been devised that can keep you safe from His incursions.  He came to His first disciples through their locked doors and closed hearts and He promises to keep coming back to us, to keep intruding among us, keep pressing in upon us, and keep opening the door that we don't know how to unlock.  Even in the dark door of our deaths, Christ promises not to forsake us, to keep coming back for us, keep talking to us, and breathing upon us.  Closed doors and tombs were, and are, no match for Jesus.  That’s good news.  Don’t lock your heart up.  Let Jesus in to work wonders in your life.  Let Him bring new life to your heart, mind and soul.  Let Him perform a resurrection, a resuscitation on you this Easter season.  Amen.