When my kids were little, my favorite books to read to them were written and illustrated by John J. Muth. He writes magical stories with magical illustrations that all reflect the importance of kindness, mindfulness, patience. In his “Zen” series, Muth writes about Stillwater, a giant panda who lives next door to three siblings, Karl, Addy, and Michael. This giant panda, unaware that giant pandas don’t typically live in traditional human neighborhoods, takes them on wonderful journeys through their own minds, never leaving their neighborhood, simply by teaching them to observe and be mindful of the world around them. Everything is filled with wonder, if we just pay attention, if we just have eyes to see. One day, Stillwater’s nephew, Koo, comes for a visit. After Stillwater picks Koo up from the train station, they gather at a nearby park where they spread out a blanket and have tea together from red plastic cups. When Koo finishes his tea, he says to his uncle, "My cup holds emptiness now. Where shall I put it?” My cup holds emptiness. Not, “my cup is empty.” The cup is still holding something, even if it is just emptiness, according to Koo.
So I want to thank you all for coming to worship today, even if you feel like your cup holds emptiness. Maybe you’re here because it’s tradition, or maybe you’re just here because it makes your grandma happy, or maybe you’re just here because you were told there would be a delicious brunch after. Whatever the reason, thank you for being here, for participating in the witness of this empty tomb. Presbyterian darling and theological giant, Karl Barth, said that "what brings people to worship - not just on Easter, but any day - is an unspoken question clinging to their hearts and minds, and that question is simply this: ‘Is it true?’” So I’m also hoping that a part of you, even if it is just a tiny part, is here to ask the question, “Is it true?” So often we parade Easter around as if it were just for the “true believers,” but if we read the resurrection stories closely, we will find that that first Easter Sunday was a day of confusion, questions, and doubt. So, welcome to Doubter’s Sunday, to all who participate. Cheers to you, with our cups that also hold emptiness.
Let’s listen to how this resurrection story today also holds emptiness.
Mary Magdalene goes out to tend to Jesus’s body, as is the custom, when it is very early in the morning. It is so early, in fact, that it’s dark, the sky is empty of light. And instead of finding the tomb covered by a large stone, she finds the stone has been moved, the entrance empty of anything blocking her way. And so she starts to run. She finds Peter and the disciple whom Jesus loved and tells them that the tomb is empty, there is no body. The tomb holds emptiness now. And she is distraught. Peter and the other disciple run off, leaving her in the dust, and they run toward the emptiness. They have no idea what they will find, and still, they run - they race - toward it. I imagine their flip-flops clapping away on the hard dusty road as they literally race toward the tomb. But the other disciple, who’d probably spent more time sprinting during recess, beats Peter to the emptiness. And he stops in his tracks. What he sees is astonishing. He sees…nothing. The grave clothes are empty. The linen wrappings that held the body hold nothing now. When Peter finally catches up to him, Peter doesn’t hesitate; he enters the empty tomb. He looks around, and sees, essentially, nothing. Just the same empty linen wrappings, the face cloth folded neatly to the side, with obviously no face contained within. The tomb is empty. The tomb holds nothingness. They look around, see the emptiness, and then…they go home.
But Mary is astonished by the emptiness, bewildered by the emptiness, and fighting despair because of all of this emptiness. And so she sits by this emptiness and weeps. She stays with the emptiness. Even when the emptiness in the tomb is replaced with angels, she is distraught. Nothing can fill her heart except Jesus. Even when the emptiness in the tomb is filled with Jesus himself, she only sees the gardener. But when he fills the tomb with her name, when he says, “Mary,” she turns to him, she recognizes him, lunges toward him. Jesus is present, right there, right in front of her, simply in the saying of her name, but when she tries to hold on to him, Jesus tells her not to. It’s not time to hold on to him. It’s time to hold on to the emptiness now. And he sends her off, to spread the news of this emptiness to the rest of the disciples. He says, “tell them that I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” He instructs her to tell them about the empty entrance, the empty tomb, the empty grave clothes, he tells her to not cling to what is here in front of her, but to tell them that Jesus is leaving, ascending, joining with the Father who is now everyone’s Father, connecting back to God who is now everyone’s God. The first sermon after the resurrection is preached by a woman who preaches of emptiness. She carries emptiness to the disciples and proclaims this emptiness as the best of news. Jesus isn’t here. He’s risen. The tomb is empty. Alleluia. Where once my cup held the broken body of my Lord, now, it only holds emptiness. Alleluia.
Our story ends with a wondering, “what will happen next?” With an empty tomb, anything can happen. With a risen Savior, anything is possible. When first the emptiness brought Mary despair and brokenness, now it fills her with potential, possibility, the emptiness of the unknown. Doubt turns to wonder, and curiosity, and the future is just a cup, waiting to be filled. It’s all potential, now, a world empty and open, welcoming your contribution to the cup.
The resurrection disrupts all of our expectations. Mary expects a tomb, filled with a body. She finds a tomb, holding nothing but emptiness. Everything is turned upside down. The whole paradigm has shifted. Suddenly emptiness is everything.
Resurrection is everywhere there is emptiness. Resurrection is found in the empty cups and the empty seeds and the tombs, cracked open, empty.
Let’s proclaim today “Doubter’s Sunday,” a day for us all to revel in our own emptiness, because that is where our salvation is found. So I encourage us all to take a moment to just hold emptiness today. Hold the empty. Be the cup that holds the empty tomb, the vessel that holds the absence that is the resurrection, the nothing that becomes, for us, everything. Because Jesus is ascending to be with God, so that all things can hold God’s presence, all things, especially the empty ones, can tell of the resurrection of Christ. Jesus has emptied the tomb and is now uniting with God so that we can now see that all things, even death, even emptiness, hold the presence of God.
Let us run toward the emptiness - our unknown futures, our risky relationships, our aching hearts - with the wild abandon of the disciples.
Let us sit and weep with the emptiness - our fear, our doubts, our uncertainties, our despair - with the present persistence of Mary Magdalene.
“My cup holds emptiness now. Where shall I put it?” Koo asks.
Stillwater answers him, “Hold on to it. We can fill it up again and again.”
The world is filled with the empty tomb. It’s filled with the emptiness of God, which is, simply, the presence of the resurrected Christ. Let’s lean in to the emptiness. Let’s run toward the risen One. Who knows what we will find? If we look closely with wonder and expectation, even the nothing that we find will be a kind of resurrection.
“Is it true?” You ask.
Does your cup hold emptiness now?
Alleluia. And amen.
Thanks be to God.
My heart is filled with emptiness now, let it be filled with Christ!
ReplyDelete