Listen for Your Name

The account of the resurrection is given slightly differently in all four gospels. There is at least one woman present in each telling, there is at least one angel. Other details vary depending on which version you read. In John’s gospel, Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb while it is still dark, full of grief. She is not looking for resurrection; she is simply looking to be near the body of Jesus. But her first surprise is that the stone is rolled away and the tomb is empty. Considering all the political and social turmoil that has surrounded Jesus’ ministry and death, of course her first thought is that the body has been taken, quite possibly with bad intentions. The idea that he is not there because he isn’t dead anymore, unsurprisingly doesn’t occur to her. So she goes and tells Peter.

We then get this dramatic scene of Peter and the beloved disciple running to the tomb to see for themselves. They see the discarded cloth, they see that things aren’t as they ought to be, but again the reaction is not one of realisation. Instead they simply scratch their heads, perhaps in surprise that Mary was right, and go back home. Perhaps it is simply one strange thing too many for them to process. They don’t have the energy for another mystery.

But Mary stays. She stays in this place of loss with her questions and tears. She stays even though there isn’t a body holding her there anymore. For Mary, the truth of the resurrection unfolds slowly. Her next interaction with the two angels is also slightly odd. Seeing them sitting in the tomb, Mary’s only reaction is to explain to them why she’s crying. We don’t have the usual response to an angel’s presence of fear, and the invitation to not be afraid. Perhaps Mary’s grief is too large to allow fear or wonder.

Then again when Jesus himself stands before her and asks why she’s crying, Mary still doesn’t arrive at the realisation of what’s happened. The empty tomb, the angels, even Jesus standing before her, none of it yet opens the eyes of her heart.

And then everything changes with one word: “Mary.” He calls her by name. Mary recognizes Jesus not because she has finally solved the puzzle of the empty tomb, but because the Good Shepherd calls his sheep by name, and she knows his voice. What we see in this gospel account of the resurrection is that evidence alone does not awaken faith. The stone rolled away isn’t the same thing as an awakened heart. Faith, here, blossoms through personal encounter. The risen Christ is a living presence who speaks, who knows, who calls us by name. This is why Mary becomes the first witness of Easter. Not because she is the quickest to understand. Not because she has the strongest argument. But she becomes the first witness of resurrection joy because she stays long enough to be met by the risen Christ and to be called by him. And this is where we are all invited to enter into the Easter narrative, because this good news is not only for Mary. As Peter says in Acts, God shows no partiality. The risen life of Christ is for all.

Now some of us here this morning come to church every week. For others this might be the first time, or the first time in a long time. But each and every one of us receives the same invitation. No matter why you are here, whether you come with sorrow, faith, questions, a sense that life is harder than you hoped, or because you feel this is where you are supposed to be, we are all called by name, and invited to stay.

Stay with the prayers. Stay with the readings, the music, the community. Stay with the tears if tears are what you have. Stay with the questions. Stay with the Eucharist. Stay near the place where you last knew Jesus to be. Stay long enough to hear your name spoken by the one who is alive.

The resurrection accounts all vary, but the end is the same - that Jesus is alive. The resurrection is world-changing and death-shattering, but it is also deeply personal, because Jesus meets Mary as one who is known, loved, and named. The first Easter morning tells us that God meets us as we are, no matter how clearly we see the hope standing before us. And for Mary, this is the beginning of her new life. The woman who came to the tomb consumed by sorrow becomes the first apostle of the resurrection. The woman who came looking for the dead is sent to announce life. “I have seen the Lord,” she says. “I have been met by him. I know now that he lives.”

So Easter becomes far more than a miracle story from long ago. Christ is risen. He rose that morning and he lives today, and he still comes to people now. He comes to people who have mistaken him for a stranger, or thought hope was gone for good. He calls people by name out of fear, out of despair, out of old identities shaped only by loss. And he brings all people into new life, charged with proclaiming this living hope.

Perhaps our invitation this morning is simple: do not stop at the empty tomb. Let it lead you further. Let it lead you toward encounter. Let it lead you toward the living Christ who knows your name. Let it lead you toward the joy that is deeper than optimism, stronger than sorrow, and steadier than fear.

Because the good news of Easter is not only that the tomb is empty. The good news of Easter is that Jesus is alive. And because he is alive, no heart is beyond his calling, and no life is beyond his power to make new. So stay. Stay with Mary, and listen for Jesus calling your name.

Alleluia. Christ is risen. He is risen indeed. Alleluia!

Acts 10:34-43; Colossians 3:1-4 ; John 20:1-18