“They Have Taken Away My Lord”

Christ is Risen! Alleluia!

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Early on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb where they had laid the body of Jesus, wishing to do for Him as was custom, to wrap the body in spices and myrrh. She came to the tomb and found, much to her dismay, an open tomb and no body! “They have taken away my Lord!” she exclaimed in grief-stricken horror. She stood, weeping, even after seeing the angels and the empty place where her Lord had lain.

It is no wonder that Mary stood outside the tomb weeping. After all, she had, like all the others, pinned great hopes on Jesus to be the savior of the people. She had witnessed the events of the past week, seen the kangaroo-court trial and gruesome execution of Jesus upon the cross. She was there to hear His final cry and to see Him give up the Ghost. Now, she had come to mourn as was proper, and someone had committed sacrilege upon sacrilege – someone had stolen away the body of the Lord.

There is no shame in mourning, in experiencing grief at the death of a loved one. Grief is a normal reaction to loss, to the pain of separation caused by death. Death is unnatural, invasive, offensive. It divides you from those you love, it bereaves you of the comfort of this life, it severs bonds long-forged. It is no wonder that Mary grieved for the One who had loved her so, who had saved her from the punishment for her sins and welcomed her into His fellowship. They had taken her Lord away once by crucifying Him on Friday. Now, they had taken Him away again by removing Him from the tomb.

Grief clouds Mary's mind and eyes, so that she is focused on the tragedy that has taken place. The death of the Lord dominates her thinking, and pushes everything else out of the picture. She comes to the tomb, expecting a closed chamber and a dead body. When she finds it otherwise than expected, it throws her totally off kilter. Where is the Lord? Who took Him? What have they done with Him? What is going on here?

Mary expected to find a dead body lying in a sealed tomb, wrapped in burial cloths. Instead, what did she find? She found the cloths folded up neatly, lying in the spot where they had laid the Lord on Friday afternoon. After all, Jesus did not simply evaporate. If the body of the Lord had been stolen, the grave-robbers would have taken the grave-clothes with them. If He had simply vanished, the cloths would not have folded themselves up into neat packages and laid themselves out. But they were folded and stacked neatly, as though they had never been inhabited.

Why? Because grave-clothes were no longer appropriate. When Lazarus was raised from the dead, he came out of the tomb in the grave-clothes, because while he had been brought back to life, he was still subject to death. But our Lord has broken the bonds of death. He is no longer subject to death, even voluntarily. He has died, and by His death He has defeated death. Death no longer has dominion over Him, and so grave-clothes are no longer His garments. He is the Lord of Life, and He has burst the bonds of the grave, and so He left behind the trappings of the grave.

Mary encountered in the tomb the two angels, dressed in white, seated at the head and foot of where they had laid Jesus. Instead of a dead, broken body, proclaiming the cruelty of sin and the injustice of death, she found the pure, holy messengers of a Lord no longer dead, but raised again to life eternal. The Lord is not in the tomb, but He left angels to proclaim the message of life.

Then, Mary finds who she thinks is the gardener. A man standing nearby, not anyone Mary expected, certainly not the Lord she came to see. Her grief and pain cloud her senses, so that she cannot fathom that this is the Lord whom she seeks. The Lord is dead. She saw Him crucified, dead, and buried. Who, then, is this man in the place where they laid Him?

But then He speaks. He does not appear the same as before. The eye does not behold the man of sorrows, stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted for our transgressions. Mary does not recognize the Lord, because He is no longer cloaked in death. He is glorified by His death, and illuminated through His resurrection.

But the Lord speaks the same as He always had. He calls to Mary by name, and her eyes are opened, and she sees her Lord and God before her, living and breathing. He calls her by name because He still knows His own, and by His calling His own know Him, even though He has been transformed from death to life. His Father is your Father, His God is your God. He is yours, and you are His. He calls you by name, and you come to Him.

Just as the prophet Isaiah promised, the Lord comes and speaks peace through the blood of His cross. He says to you, just as He said to His people of old, “Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are Mine” (Is. 43:1). He has redeemed you from all your sins, redeemed your life from the pit, redeemed your death through His death to sin for you. He has called you by name, and you are His. He no longer calls you by your own name, but He calls you by His holy and precious Name, by which you are known as a child of God.

Your eyes are opened. Your senses are cleared. You have been called by name, so that you may see and believe, so that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of the Living God. You are called by His Name, and in His Name you have received His life.

In the Name of Jesus. Amen.
 Christ is Risen! Alleluia!