Easter 2016: Called By Name

Posted by DJL on Mar 22, 2016 in Dear Partner | 8 comments

John 20:1-18

Kkkkatie, beautiful Katie,
You’re the only gggirl that I adore.
When the mmmoon shines, over the cccowshed,
I’ll be waiting for you by the kkkitchen door.

Dear Partner in Preaching,

Not my typical beginning to this letter, I know. But then again, this isn’t your typical Sunday. So allow me to explain….

Because the song I referenced above never failed to bring a smile to the face of my daughter when she was a toddler, it always came in pretty handy when she was upset. Whether recovering from a bruised knee or a lost contest with her older brother for some toy, my daughter Katie invariably responded to my singing, first with a shy smile, wiping away the tears dotting her plump cheeks, and then breaking into a full blown grin of recognition and delight.

Now, I can’t really say why that old tune was so effective, although I’m pretty sure it wasn’t not the quality of my singing! Perhaps it was just that Katie loved being sung about. Perhaps she merely proved, as each of us does almost every day, the truth of Dale Carnegie’s assertion that there is no more beautiful sound in the world than that of our own name on the lips of another. Perhaps, but I doubt it.

You see, I think that, hearing her father or mother call her by name, Katie was reconnected to her family, rejoined to those who loved her, and in this way remembered who she was by remembering whose she was – our beloved daughter. So that even when grasped by the seizures of willfulness and insecurity that seemed so frequently to plague a two-year old, when called lovingly by her name Katie was freed from the hold of her confusion and found her way back to the world. And what she came back to was, really, a whole new world, one where, at least for the moment, her old fears and hurts had been banished, replaced by a sense of belonging and contentment and security that showed itself in that grin of delight.

I have a hunch that it was something like that for Mary.

John tells us of two trips that Mary Magdalene makes to the tomb early that first Easter morning. On the first trip, she discovers it empty and so runs all the way back to the city to tell Simon Peter and another disciple, the one Jesus loved. They, in turn, race to the tomb, followed by Mary, who after this second trip remains in the burial garden after the other two went back to their homes, presumably to ponder what they just haven’t seen.

Mary is by now, we may well imagine, distraught and exhausted, afflicted by equal measures of grief and confusion. So much so, in fact, that when she peers into the tomb and beholds two angels in white, she shows neither the fear nor the wonder that normally characterizes such encounters, but instead displays only the distress of a lost child. And when, turning, she is confronted by none other than Jesus, the one whose body she is seeking, she is still too stuck in the trauma of recent events to recognize her Lord.

And then it happens. “Mary,” Jesus says, calling her by name, penetrating the shroud of her grief to grasp hold of her and draw her into a whole new world.

It’s hard to imagine all the emotions that must have coursed through Mary in that moment; and yet, while the text doesn’t give us many clues, I have a feeling that after just a heartbeat she responded at first with a shy smile, wiping away the tears soaking her cheeks, and then broke into a grin of recognition and delight, breathing “my teacher.”

Ah, but it doesn’t end here. No, after only a brief moment to savor this encounter, Mary is addressed by her Lord once again. “Go to the others,” Jesus tells her, “and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.” And, having been called by name, Mary is now sent to proclaim the wonder of what she has beheld.

And she does, racing back to the city once more to announce to the other disciples and the world, “I have seen the Lord.” And in so doing, Mary becomes the first Christian preacher, the first herald of the resurrection, and we are all her heirs.

So, where are you stuck just now, Dear Partner? What has you paralyzed or traumatized, confused or bewildered? Is it your arriving, finally, at the end of another long Lent only to discover you’re not sure what to preach this Easter? Is it despair over your call, or a sense that perhaps it’s time to move on? Maybe it’s war, aging now in so many parts of the world, or terrorism, having afflicted the people in Brussels so recently, or unemployment, still affecting too many in our congregations? Maybe it’s grief over the death of a loved one or the disintegration of an important relationship? Maybe it’s an uncertain future or a painful past. Maybe,…maybe it’s any one of a host of things that plagues us on any given day of the year, diminishing our lives and paralyzing us where we stand.

But whatever it is, hear once again the good news that Jesus Christ, risen from the dead, is calling you by name, addressing you in a tender voice, and reaching out to draw you to himself and reconnect you to those who love you. This, in a nutshell, is the significance of Baptism, where we are named by God to be one of God’s children now and forever. And, truth be told, it’s the significance of all of our preaching and teaching, our celebration and worship, as through these things God calls us by name once again, penetrating the numbness and brokenness of our lives, to rejoin us to God’s unending love and usher us into a whole new world.

Now, I know, I know, in one way, it’s the same old world, ravaged by conflict and shadowed by fear. And yet because Christ has been raised it is also entirely new, infused with divine possibility and sparkling with the promise of a Creator determined to redeem it in love.

That’s good news! And yet it doesn’t end here, as the Lord has something more yet to say. For now that you have been called by name, so also are you now sent to proclaim what you have seen and heard to his other disciples and all the world. And, good night, but this world is ready for such news!

Called by name, sent to proclaim. That’s the Easter word to you, Dear Partner in Preaching, but also to your people. For they, too, may feel lost and alone, showing up on worship out of a sense of obligation or duty but feeling rather empty inside, numb from the thousands things they are worried about and feeling alone and isolated. And so remind them that God is calling them by name, too, reconnecting them to Jesus and each other and inviting them into a whole new world, one infused by the possibility of resurrection and the promise that nothing – not even death itself – can separate us from the love of God.

After the sermon many of us sing the hymn of the day and on this day, of course, it’s likely to be one of the great Easter hymns we all love. But maybe, just maybe, this might be a good day to try out another song. Can you hear it? Imagine it sung with love by our heavenly Father over and over until we all know the words by heart? Can you hear it? Kkkatie, beautiful Katie, it begins. Or maybe Jjjimmy, beautiful Jimmy. Or Sssara, Dddaniel, Jjjudy, even, Dddavid, beautiful David, you’re my beloved child that I adore….

If you dare sing this song aloud, Dear Partner, don’t be surprised if your folks are seized by an uncontrollable urge to smile, maybe shyly at first, and then break out into to an unabashed grin of recognition and delight. That’s just what the gospel does!

Thank you, Dear Partner, for your faithful proclamation of the good news that we are God’s own beloved child, this Easter Sunday and always. This is news we need to hear every day of our lives, and I am so grateful to you for sharing it. Blessed Easter.

David