Dreams or Reality?
“The angels asked, ‘Why are you weeping?’” — John 20:13a
It was one of those dreams where she knew it was a dream but she could not wake up. And, if she knew anything, she knew she was dreaming.
In the dream, she was running. And she ran and she ran and she ran. And even though she was running without stopping, she never seemed to be out of breath.
There were other strange things happening too. In this dream she started to run after she found her way to the tomb in the dim shadows of the early morning. In this dream, the stone no long longer covered the opening.
In this dream she was frightened, as she realized the body was not, could not be there any longer. In this dream she ran to find Simon Peter and the other disciple. And she ran... and she ran... and she ran. (Pause.)
It was the eve of the Sabbath when she saw her friend die. She followed the procession to the tomb where the body had been placed. So she knew the tomb she kept seeing in the dream, was the very same tomb. There was no doubt about it.
Indeed, she had watched as the men— the friends, the disciples— gently, lovingly, placed the body inside the rough hewn walls of the newly carved burial place. It was not a dream. It was all... too real. (Slight pause.)
The reality of these several days was overwhelming, a nightmare, not a dream. In the hours before the burial she watched as the Rabbi, the Teacher, died the death of a criminal. She watched as the Roman soldiers executed her friend. She watched while others had fled. She watched... and was with him till the end. (Pause.)
Her name was Mary. But many people called her Mags. That was because she was from the town of Magdala. [1]
The name of the one she watched being executed was Yeshuah, Jesus in the Greek. The name means ‘God saves.’ And that’s what she thought every time she saw him–– ‘God saves.’ That is what she thought she saw in him–– ‘God saves.’
Because of Jesus, she had confidence— hope— that the dominion of God could be and was present, real— that the peace, justice, freedom and equity of God might have a place in society, that these are real. (Pause.) And then she watched... as Jesus died. (Slight pause.)
The reality of the death, the murder, the execution of Jesus by the invaders, by the occupying army from the Empire known as Rome, in this small province known as Judea, a death brought to reality by the orders of Pilate, the Procurator, the Governor, was still real, fresh, in her mind, not simply a distant memory. And it felt... devastating. It made her feel that dreams, especially dreams of hope, were not worth dreaming.
Indeed, all these events of the last several days were freshly seared in her memory as she dreamed this seemingly endless dream. (Slight pause.) And in that dream she ran and she ran and she ran. (Pause.)
Suddenly, Mags was awake. Quickly, she sat upright. (Slight pause.) It was still dark. She could hear the soft, gentle cooing noise of a dove.
Unsure of what propelled her, she got up, quickly threw on clothes and bolted out the door. Somehow, if Mary knew anything, she knew she had to get to the tomb. (Slight pause.)
Can dreams, even shattered dreams... somehow turn into reality? (Pause.) When she arrived at the tomb, the sky still had an eerie shade of murkiness to it, not quite yet the day; not quite still the night. But there was enough light to see.
The stone was a good ways off from the opening of the tomb. Was this reality? Was this a dream? Had she not already seen this, experienced this?
Mags never hesitated. Knowing it was real, not a dream, she sprinted back toward the house. And she ran and she ran and she ran. And even though she ran without stopping, she never seemed to be out of breath.
She found Simon Peter and the disciple who Jesus loved standing together in the square outside the house and told them to get to the tomb. The younger of the two set off as fast as she had seen anyone run. Simon Peter moved at a brisk pace too, not quite as fast. Mags followed. (Slight pause.)
She got back to the tomb as the two stood by the entrance staring at one another, shaking their heads in sadness. Then, they simply left. Alone, she stood there. And she wept. She closed her eyes and she cried and she cried and she cried. (Slight pause.) She had a sense someone was standing nearby. Mary did not open her eyes.
A voice asked, “Why are you weeping? For whom are you looking?”
“They have taken away my Rabbi and I do not know where they have put the body” she said, still weeping. “Please, if you are the one who carried Jesus away, tell me where you have laid the body and I will take it away.” (Slight pause.)
Then she heard her name. “Mary.” Was it the tone of voice? Was it the inflection with which it was said? In the midst of tears, all she could say was, “Rabbouni!”
Was this a dream? Was this real? In an instant, her mind tried to sort through all that had happened these last several days, all that had happened this last hour.
Mags knew this was real. Mags knew this was not a dream. She reached out to touch the Rabbi who said, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to Abba, God. Rather, go to the sisters and brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to Abba, to my God and your God.’” (Slight pause.)
She did not know why this was the right thing to do, but she knew it was. She looked up at the face of Jesus. Loving eyes gazed back at her. They were warm, tender, passionate. Jesus nodded. Mags nodded.
She wiped her tears on a sleeve, turned and walked toward the town. She did not run. There was no need to run. She did not weep. There was no need to weep. She did not quite know why, but she was filled with joy. She did not quite know why, but she knew hope could be real. And Mags knew what she needed to do. Mags knew what she had to do.
This was not a dream. This was reality. This was God at work in their midst. This was the fulfillment of the covenant.
This meant the peace, the joy, the hope, the freedom and the love God promised in the covenant, was and is alive and present and real. And this word, this story, this covenant was not meant just for her.
This word, this story, this covenant was meant not just for the disciples. This word, this story, this covenant was meant for the whole world.
So Magdala went to the disciples and said, “I have seen the Teacher!” The very words filled her with joy and with hope. (Slight pause.) Amen.
04/04/2010
United Church of Christ, First Congregational, Norwich, New York
ENDPIECE: It is the practice of the Pastor to speak after the Closing Hymn, but before the Benediction. This, then, is an précis of what the pastor said before the blessing: “Anyone who was out on the courthouse steps this morning at the Ministirum Sunrise Service, and there are a couple of double dippers here (I know who you are) heard Tom Olson, the President of our Ministirum, say over and over again and urge the people to say ‘Christ is risen! Christ is risen, indeed!’ This is not a secret: Happy Easter is not what Christian say. That’s very secular. Christians say: ‘Christ is risen!’ So, when someone walks up to you today and says: ‘Happy Easter’ [at this point the pastor has walked up to May Mayo, the Director of Music Ministries at the Church who responds]: ‘Christ is risen!’ See, that’s the way it works!
[1] The Inclusive Language Version of the Gospel by Priests for Equality was used in the service. That translation says “Mary of Magdala” which is more accurate than the traditional Mary Magdalene.
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