The Other Disciple
What draws us to prayer, to sacred space, and worship this morning? It is Gospel, good news, that is on our minds and in our hearts. People who claim Christian faith around the world awake today to hear, gather to remember, to experience, to speak the words of Mary Magdalene that we know so well, “Rabbi, teacher . . . I have seen the Lord.” No matter how young or old your faith, your heart knows what those words feel like. No matter how often you attend worship or how involved you are in a faith community, you know what the voice of God sounds like beyond belief, beyond baptism, and after last echo of “Alleluia” fades. Today we hear John’s account of Easter, but it could be our story. With good news on our minds and in our hearts I invite you into the Gospel of John to listen for your voice, your character in one Easter morning story.
John 20:1-18
John 20: 1-18, New Revised Standard Version Bible, copyright © 1989 National Council of the Churches of Christ in the United States of America. Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.
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. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, ‘They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.’ Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went towards the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.
But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ She said to them, ‘They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.’ When she had said this, she turned round and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? For whom are you looking?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’ She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, ‘Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, “I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” ’ Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord’; and she told them that he had said these things to her.
When Easter arrives I remember visiting Israel in January of 1999. It was a study trip with a group from Lexington Theological Seminary. I walked those places considered Holy by so many: Masada, Jericho, the Qumran community, the Temple Mount, the Dome of Rock, Galilee, and Bethsaida. There are places where the Jordan river is so narrow that anyone could hop across. The Church of the Holy Sepcular is in Jerusalem. It is built on the place where Christian tradition says that Jesus was crucified and buried. It is a large structure with many rooms. Halls circle the building and at anytime monks or priests may come through the halls in a processional of prayer. The main chamber of the church is crowded with icons, pilgrims and tourists awash in incense waiting for a turn to walk into the shrine that has been designated as “the tomb of Jesus.”
Down a hall and down two flights of stairs is another area, the Chapel of St. Helena, the mother of Constantine the Great. It is dimly lit. There are a few pews and the chancel area has a rail and places to kneel for prayer and reflection. Icons and ancient words adorn the walls in every direction. To the left of the chancel is a gate with a chain and lock that looks like it is from the middle ages. There is one monk that serves the church who has the key. Through the gate and down more narrow stairs into what we would call a sub-basement area there is a quarry, an excavation area that has been converted into the Chapel of St. Vartan. Candles and small floor flood lamps provide light. There is a small wooden cross. There are three small wood benches. To the right of the cross is a stone that has a drawing on it that dates to the 2nd century CE. It is a drawing of a boat, someone else might call it a ship. It is believed that the drawing was created by early Christian pilgrims visiting a site said to be the place of Jesus’ crucifixion and burial. Beneath the boat is a Latin inscription that translates, “Lord we went.”
These second century pilgrims seem different from us. Their understanding of science, the size of the world, the social order, lifestyle, the lack of technology that we take for granted: phones, cars, quick public transportation, the printing press, public education, 24hr cable news, the Internet. They relied on the words of others: stories, rumors, and legend to know Jesus. They relied on the life choices that followers of “the Way” made in living out the teachings of Jesus as they found their voice to proclaim him Christ. These second century pilgrims relied on the interpretation of his teachings by those who claim to know him or learned from one of the descendants of his disciples. When you take away our technological differences and social order are these second century disciples are not so different from us? One of them could have been a descendant of the other disciple that went with Mary and Peter that morning to the tomb. Any one of us could be that disciple.
Easter is a confessional experience for those who claim Christian faith. Confessional. Not a, “bless me father for I have sinned” confessional experience, though some may overlay that theology on it. No, this is a confessional that is an aha moment. It is an awareness of God, an Emmaus road journey, an answered prayer, an experience of the risen Christ that is followed by reflection, prayer, study and conversation with the other disciple. Like those second century disciples, we don’t know what really happened that morning when Mary Magdalene went to the tomb or those days following the crucifixion. Though we give authority to the bible as a means of instruction and inspiration, it is not nor is it meant to be, a detailed history of the events of our faith ancestors.
The New Testament, like the First Testament, is a glimpse into the faith struggles and stories of other people, and in that plot we have a chapter to write about our own lives and our own faith. When I read the resurrection story in John, I think about being that other disciple, and it is on mornings like this one that we remember a confession: “Jesus is the Christ, son of a living God. I accept and proclaim him Lord and Savor of my life.” Depending on where you grew up attending Church or not, you have heard a version of those words echo from the mouth of a friend, a family member, or your own lips. It was in that moment, and through your living since that day, that you are connected to Mary Magdalene proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord.” It is in that moment, and through your living since that day, that you are connected to Peter who is said to have denied knowing Jesus, but was called a rock of faith.
Easter is a day Christians recognize and confess connection, and that has not been easy to do in our culture for a long, long time. We have many tools to stay connected: did you get my text, or email, or voicemail, or letter? I sent you a Facebook message. Did you see my tweet? Can you hear me now? Good. But, our skills for nurturing and understanding connection still struggle to match our experience of faith, or our experience of God. At their best, our faith communities, our church, helps us create and maintain healthy connections with God, family, and friends. Our church, our faith communities, can help balance our living in the world and keep us accountable to our confession of faith and discipleship following Jesus’ way.
Early Christendom designed creeds, statements of faith, to connect believers. Those ancient ways of thinking and believing continue to inform many Christians and shape human culture. But just as much as the creeds provided a unified voice in an ancient pluralistic world of worship, they also divide believers. Those ancient ways set up institutional power structures, and support political views that fail to hear the teaching of Jesus about the Empire of God. Confession is more than assenting to one Lord, one holy catholic and apostolic Church, one baptism for the forgiveness of sins, or Trinitarian formula for knowing God. Confession is willful and faithful living is will-filled. It is choices about doing what is right, because it is right, for our neighbor as ourselves every day.
We are connected to those first disciples when we raise our voice in that centuries old dialogue: Is it right belief or right works that matters most? Which is it that best identifies me as Christian in the 21st century? Here in our time you are and I am that other disciple that ran with Peter when we are a living confession of faith and practice our discipleship even when no one is looking.
Lent has been filled with conflict, fear, isolation, and mixed messages. In the film, Chocolat, Pere Henri, the new priest of a little village in the steps into the pulpit to deliver his Easter homily. He says:
“I’m not sure what the theme of my homily today ought to be. Do I want to speak of the miracle… of our Lord’s divine transformation?
Not really, no.
I don’t want to talk about His divinity. I’d rather talk about His humanity. I mean, you know, how he lived his life here on Earth. His kindness. His tolerance. Listen, here’s what I think.
I think we can’t go around… measuring our goodness by what we don’t do. By what we deny ourselves… what we resist and who we exclude. I think we’ve got to measure goodness… by what we embrace… what we create… and who we include.”
That’s a gospel that confronts my Easter confession: Rabbi . . . teacher . . . I have seen the Lord.
Do you recognize Jesus the Christ in your living? You are the disciple that Jesus loved.? Just as Mary Magdalene did centuries ago, we have a knowledge and an experience of the risen Christ that asks us to go and tell.
A century from now how will other disciples know that we went?