Easter

The Risen Christ Says Yes

John 20:1-18 (The Message)

Early in the morning on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone was moved away from the entrance. She ran at once to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, breathlessly panting, “They took the Master from the tomb. We don’t know where they’ve put him.”

Peter and the other disciple left immediately for the tomb. They ran, neck and neck. The other disciple got to the tomb first, outrunning Peter. Stooping to look in, he saw the pieces of linen cloth lying there, but he didn’t go in. Simon Peter arrived after him, entered the tomb, observed the linen cloths lying there, and the kerchief used to cover his head not lying with the linen cloths but separate, neatly folded by itself. Then the other disciple, the one who had gotten there first, went into the tomb, took one look at the evidence, and believed. No one yet knew from the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead. The disciples then went back home.

But Mary stood outside the tomb weeping. As she wept, she knelt to look into the tomb and saw two angels sitting there, dressed in white, one at the head, the other at the foot of where Jesus’ body had been laid. They said to her, “Woman, why do you weep?”

“They took my Master,” she said, “and I don’t know where they put him.” After she said this, she turned away and saw Jesus standing there. But she didn’t recognize him.

Jesus spoke to her, “Woman, why do you weep? Who are you looking for?”

She, thinking that he was the gardener, said, “Mister, if you took him, tell me where you put him so I can care for him.”

Jesus said, “Mary.”

Turning to face him, she said in Hebrew, “Rabboni!” meaning “Teacher!”

Jesus said, “Don’t cling to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I ascend to my Father and your Father, my God and your God.’”

Mary Magdalene went, telling the news to the disciples: “I saw the Master!” And she told them everything he said to her.


Grace, peace, and mercy to you from God our Father, from our Lord and Savior Jesus the Christ, and the Holy Spirit who unites us in faith. Amen.

A common principle in mysticism and spiritual teaching across religions is that you cannot truly see or understand anything if you begin with a no.

We see only what we choose to see, consciously or subconsciously. We can’t say yes to everything; after all; there is simply too much stuff in the world for us to absorb and comprehend it all. Saying no is our brain’s way to avoid overstimulation. Think of it like a camera lens. When there is too much light on the subject that you are shooting with a camera, the lens aperture must restrict. So too, our brains restrict the input of our senses to allow only that which we already think we know, expect, and understand.

Any posture of humility must begin with an awareness that things exist even if we don’t see, know, expect, or understand them. If we are closed off to new possibilities, insights, or realities, we are no different than the baby boy who is confident his father is really gone when his face disappears behind his hands during a game of peek-a-boo.

“We see what we are ready to see, expect to see, and even desire to see. If we start with no, we usually get some form of no in return. If we start with yes, we are much more likely to get a yes back. Once we have learned how to say a fundamental yes, later no’s can be very helpful and are surely necessary. However, beginning with yes is the foundation of mature nonviolence and compassionate action. The Risen Christ is a great big yes to everything.”*

In the resurrection account from the gospel of John, we see Mary Magdalene, Peter, and the beloved disciple all respond to Christ’s resurrection from a position of no. Mary sees the empty tomb and the only logical reason she can imagine is that Jesus’ body was moved by someone else. Despite Jesus’ repeated announcements that he would die and rise after three days, Mary’s brain could not even begin to entertain the idea that what Jesus had said was even a possibility. Likely she and the disciples hadn’t heard him say this at all – their spiritual aperture was too restricted to let that in.

Peter and the beloved disciple ran to the tomb to witness its emptiness and John says the beloved disciple “went in, and he saw and believed” (John 20:8). Believed what? That Jesus was raised from the dead? No, because the scripture continues, “for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead (John 20:9). The beloved disciple’s belief is not in the good news of the resurrection; rather, he believes that Mary wasn’t lying…Jesus’ body is in fact, gone. That is the extent of the bewildering scenario that he can process because he “did not understand.”

The great good news is that the Christ’s yes is able to break through their nos. No amount of denial or unbelief from the disciples would be able to negate the truth of Christ’s resurrection. Christ didn’t postpone his resurrection until people believed. Christ was and will forever be resurrected, regardless of whether our response to this good news is yes or no.

Despite starting with a no, something in the deepest depths of Mary’s mind wouldn’t let her walk away from the mystery of the empty tomb. Her spiritual aperture was opened just wide enough to allow one word from the gardener into her heart. “Mary,” he said. And with that one word her no became a yes.

It wasn’t just any word…it was her name. Not a judgy, dismissive, or frustrated use of her name; rather it was her name wrapped in the vocal inflection of loving invitation. Anytime someone who loves you utters your name, it is an invitation to deeper and more intimate relationship.

Have you ever lovingly uttered the name of someone whose posture is no instead of yes? It’s terribly difficult, but when it’s wrapped in the language of loving invitation, it is absolutely disarming.

On my best days as a parent this is how I respond when my kids’ behavior requires intervention. If they’re acting up, I have much more success in reaching them with a loving, calm, and inviting uttering of their names. When their emotions and volume increase, I find it best to respond with calm and quiet; invitation, never exclusion.

Of course, not all of my days are my best days as a parent. Sometimes I respond to their no with a louder and more demonstrative no of my own. However, I can’t remember a time when I responded that way and thought to myself, “Well done. That took a lot of courage to stand up to a 7 year old like that…you sure put him in his place. I’m sure he has newfound love and appreciation for you after that.”

Invitation over exclusion. Holding open over closing. Yes over no. Life over death. All of this can be communicated to someone simply in the way you say their name.

Perhaps on this Easter Sunday that is awash in the promise of new life, you are being invited to say someone’s name in a new, more open and inviting way.

Perhaps on this Easter Sunday that is awash in the promise of new life, you are being invited to hear God calling to you in a new, more open and inviting way – a way that can turn your no into a yes.

Your yes will open your aperture will be opened to allow the fullness of God’s glory to make its way into your heart and mind. Once we have learned how to say yes to the God of unconditional love we will start to see it everywhere.

Remember, the Risen Christ is a great big yes to everything.

And so we respond with the Hebrew word for yes: Amen.

* Richard Rohr, Daily Meditations, “Beginning with Yes.” August 12, 2016

Abiding Agape

Abiding Agape
Mark Havel

John 15:9-17

As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.

“This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you. No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends. You are my friends if you do what I command you. I do not call you servants any longer, because the servant does not know what the master is doing; but I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last, so that the Father will give you whatever you ask him in my name. I am giving you these commands so that you may love one another.


How many of you have or have had a song that you or your husband or wife or lover have called “your” song? Maybe it’s one that was playing when you first met. Maybe it’s a song that was popular when you were dating. Maybe it’s the song you danced to at your wedding or just a song that tells a familiar story or speaks a familiar word about your relationship.

Love songs are good. It means something to have ‘a song’ you can call your own.  It means something to have ‘your song’ – one that captures a moment in time or that helps to define a relationship or that simply triggers a meaningful memory. And that can be hard, too, of course, when a relationship ends, or memories fade.

And anyone who’s ever been in a relationship of any kind for any length of time knows that a song – no matter how good – only goes so far. It’s easy to be in love when the stars are shining or when the weather’s nice or when the dishes are done; when the lawn’s been mowed and the bills are paid.

And, while I think Jesus can appreciate this kind of romantic, sentimental love, it’s important to know that’s not what he has in mind when he speaks to the disciples in this morning’s Gospel about abiding in the love of God.

Because, for starters, “abide” is a great word, isn’t it? … to remain in, to hold fast to, to endure… the notion of what it means to abide carries with it a lot of weight, don’t you think? And so does the word Jesus uses for “love” this morning.

It’s worth acknowledging or remembering that we can get pretty lazy with our words … we say we love chocolate, or we love the races, or we love that outfit or that restaurant or that song, or whatever. And then we say that we love God, too, and that God calls us to love one another and to love our neighbor and to love our enemy, just the same, as if those kinds of love are all the same sort of thing.

So it matters that Jesus uses that word “agape” for the love he’s talking about today… to describe a love, that isn't a romantic, sentimental, groovy kind of love, if you will. Jesus isn’t talking about the “love” of most love songs, here. Agape-love is the sort of love God has for us and for the world, whether we know it or believe it or even like it or not. (Jesus says, “I chose you” … “you did not choose me, but I chose you.”) That agape kind of love is holy, it’s sacred, it's unconditional. That agape kind of love is an all-encompassing, cosmic kind of love. And it’s this kind of love in which we are invited to abide.

Abide in MY kind of love Jesus says… the FATHER’S kind of love. And to do that, he says, takes some work, some discipline, some commandment-following, some patience. …

Not only that… this kind of abiding, this kind of deep, divine, cosmic-sort-of-loving – the kind of love Jesus lived and died embodying – was the GREATEST kind of love and it isn’t easy. I don’t think it was easy for Jesus every step of the way, and I know it’s not easy for us, either.

It wasn’t easy for Jesus because it was this kind of love that drove him to the cross. It was agape that called him out of his humanity and it was agape that allowed him to be crucified, killed and raised for the sake of all creation. 

Agape-love doesn’t have strings attached. Agape-love doesn’t have pre-requisites.  Agape-love doesn’t have a check-list.  It is without limits.  It doesn’t ask questions – it just is. It just – and utterly – loves. It’s a hard thing to describe and it’s a hard thing to define. It’s one of those things that’s so big, so deep, so wide you can’t quite put your finger on it – you just know it when you feel it or when you see it in action.

So, I wonder if we can think about a time in our lives when we’ve felt the most loved. Maybe it sounded sweet like a love song. Maybe it rhymed like a poem.  And that’s great. But maybe it didn’t. 

Maybe it wasn’t pretty, like forgiveness for something that didn’t deserve to be overlooked; or a dream sacrificed so that another dream could come true. Maybe it was tired and worn out – like a night spent in worry or prayer on your behalf.  Maybe it was unsettling to know how far someone else was willing to go or how much someone else was willing to give for your happiness or comfort or peace of mind, when you didn’t deserve it. That’s the abiding kind of agape-love that drove Jesus to the cross.

And think about a time in your life when you had the most love to give. Did it sing like a song or feel like a dream? Did it hurt a little bit? Did it mean giving something up for somebody else? Did it mean sacrificing your own time, your own money, your own patience, or some part of your very self for the sake of another?  That’s the abiding kind of agape-love Jesus is talking about this morning, too.

It’s not always pretty. It doesn’t always end with a kiss or a dance or a warm embrace. And what’s more, we aren’t supposed to be picky about who receives it. This agape-kind-of-love comes for the sake of the world – that’s what that bit from Acts 10 was all about. It is for the outcast and the outsider and that makes this love unsettling and scary and dangerous, too.

The AGAPE of God makes us friends with the Creator and thereby complicit in God’s plan to overcome the world with grace and mercy and peace for all people. It wouldn’t mean as much if it were easy to give. We wouldn’t know its worth if we never shared it with another. It’s not something we can claim as ours alone. It’s more than just a moment or a memory or a cheesy sentimentality.

And the AGAPE of God – the kind of love Jesus chooses for us – and chooses us for – is something we can only abide and dare to offer when we acknowledge that it’s already been poured out for our sake, just the same.

Amen