St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, Wesley Chapel, FL
Preacher: The Very Rev. Adrienne R. Hymes
April 5, 2026● Easter Sunday (Year A)
Gospel: John 20:1-18
Alleluia. Christ is risen! [The Lord is risen indeed, Alleluia!]
In the poem, Understory, by Mark Nepo, the poet writes, “We try so hard to be the main character when it is our point of view that keeps us from the truth. When jarred by life, we might unravel the story we tell ourselves and discover the story we are in, the one that keeps telling us.”[1]
Our gospel narrative today begins with Jesus’ faithful disciple, Mary Magdalene. She was with Jesus on the way to the cross; at the foot of the cross as he was crucified; and now at the tomb wherein his body had been laid. When Mary went to the tomb she found the stone had been removed. The text does not indicate that Mary investigated beyond that. She neither looked inside nor entered the tomb. Instead, Mary, perhaps fearing for her own safety, went to get backup from two other disciples, Peter and John. Recall that John had been with Mary as they watched a tortured Jesus die on the cross.
Unlike Mary, Peter and John did some investigating inside the tomb. Both saw evidence of Jesus’ body having been there; John saw and believed. Even so, they did not register that Jesus’ fulfillment of scripture necessitated that he must rise from the dead. The text is very matter of fact—almost like a police report. The two detectives investigated the scene, discussed the evidence and returned to their homes. The tomb was empty and Jesus’ body was not where it was supposed to be. Dead bodies don’t just disappear. You and I have the advantage of knowing what Peter and John did not—that the empty tomb was not the end; just wait, there is more to the story.
As the weeping Mary Magdalene remained outside of the tomb, she looked inside for the first time.
Mary saw two angels where Jesus’ body would have been. They asked her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” It is in Mary’s response that we experience her fear, her heartbrokenness, her deep loss and grief. Then Jesus appeared to her, and asked the same question, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Like many of us, Mary was stuck in her head, so transfixed on solving the mystery that she was unable to truly hear, let alone answer, not a question of the head, but a question of the heart. Mary’s need to solve the mystery blinded her from recognizing Jesus and even implied that he was the thief. The very person whom Mary so desperately sought was standing before her, but she was blinded by, and caught up in, the narrative that she was telling herself.
Yet, at the very sound of Jesus’ familiar voice calling her by name, “Mary,” turned toward the voice. In that moment, she recognized her beloved teacher—her Rabbouni—who was once again present, up close and personal, with her. I am reminded of Jesus’ image of himself as the good shepherd who knows his own sheep and the sheep know him by listening to his voice[2]. Once Mary recognized Jesus, he empowered her to go and tell the other disciples the words he had spoken to her. In the real presence of Jesus, Mary, the first witness to the risen Christ, was forever transformed from a weeping and distraught disciple into an empowered evangelist. Mary’s announcement, “I have seen the Lord,” gives way for us to glimpse what’s to come. For we know, from scripture, that there will be more to the story. In that intimate encounter in the garden, Jesus gave Mary a brief glimpse, albeit initially cryptic, of God’s unfolding love story with humankind, a love story that is at once inextricably tied to the tomb and transcends the tomb—God’s love story of which Mary and all of humankind are a part.
In a death-dealing society plagued with domestic terrorism and little to no love or compassion for neighbors, people all around us are inconsolably weeping; they are frightened, confused, distraught, grieving and heartbroken. So many people are reading the same chapter of their own narratives over and over again with the imprisoning message, “The End.” With the non-stop distractions of life, and the adoption of this world’s hopeless narrative, even faithful people can be blind to Jesus’ real presence even as He stands before them asking, “Why are you weeping?”
In the sacred, intimate space of the gathered body of Christ, we must invite others, and share with them, the life-giving narrative of our risen Lord, so that when they bring their heartbreak across the threshold of this church, they can feel safe to fall apart in a place like this, the way Mary, in her deep grief, fell apart in the garden.
The Church is not called to be everything to all people; the Church is called to be the instrument of meaning-making for all people through holy scripture, regular worship and the sacraments of Christ’s body and blood. When people are able to make meaning of their myriad sufferings, those who have been broken find healing and restoration in the meaning of Jesus’ life, suffering, death and resurrection.
On that day of Jesus’ resurrection, recall that the stone was gone, but the tomb was still there. And, the tomb remains today, for us all, an inescapable reality. Thanks be to God, we are Easter people, who proclaim that Christ has taken away the sting of death. Therefore, the empty tomb reminds us, not of our mortality, but of our promised freedom of eternal life with God now and when this mortal life is over. The risen Christ calls those, who believe in him, to enter into myriad, open tombs, of the human condition, to seek those souls who are like the spiritually walking dead amongst the living and to bear Christ’s hope—that because Jesus was raised from the dead, all who die in the Lord, shall also be raised.
So, why are YOU weeping? Are YOU still reading the same chapter of your life over and over again with the dead-end message, “The End?” These questions, not of the head, but of the heart, require vulnerability and compassionate curiosity when we look in the mirror and when we gaze upon the faces of our loved ones and neighbors.
On this resurrection Sunday, let us, with God’s help, commit to stop trying to be the main character and release our temporal, human point of view, so that we might be better able to embrace God’s divine truth; so that we might be able to unravel the oppressive stories we tell ourselves and discover, and be restored by, God’s life-giving and liberating love story with humankind—the story that we are all in, the sacred story that keeps telling us. Amen.
[1] Nepo, Mark. “Understory.”
[2] John 10:14-16
