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Sermon for Easter Sunday – March 23, 2008
On the bus, on the subway, on the commuter train, on the bridge entrances – it’s hard to travel anywhere in New York City without seeing the sign: “If you see something, say something.” Part of the “Eyes of New York” ad campaign sponsored by the Metropolitan Transit Authority – or MTA – the slogan has attained a post September 11 mantra status, all in the attempt to make people more alert to potential terrorism. One poster features close-up photographs of a dozen set of eyes with the headline, “There are 16 million eyes in the city. We’re counting on all of them.” Another has a photo of a cute as a button German shepherd named “Haggs”– one of the bomb sniffing dogs that work the transit system. Under Hagg’s close-up we read: “You use your eyes. He’ll use his nose.”
All signs conclude with the tagline – now adopted by dozens of cities in this country and around the world – “If you see something, say something.” See what? “Be alert to unattended packages. Be wary of suspicious behavior. Take notice of people in bulky or inappropriate clothing,” and so on. A police officer or a transit worker is to be notified immediately; if none are available, the city has a toll free number prominently posted.
Katherine Lapp, the Executive Director of the MTA, said, “…the threat of terrorism remains very real, and we need to remind ourselves not to become complacent. We want to reinforce among our customers how important it is that they continue to be aware of their surroundings.”
A worthwhile goal, indeed, the public needs to be alert, the authorities cannot be everywhere, nor would we want them to; although, on the streets of New York, as in any big city, what constitutes suspicious behavior or inappropriate clothing is difficult to determine. And people do have the right to dress oddly and behave weirdly; where else would the paparazzi and the nightly entertainment shows get their material? So, yes, “If you see something, say something.” But what if what you see is not what you think it is?
“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed.” Seven times in this story John uses words for “seeing,” and the seeing always results in some belief about what is seen; the problem is, that belief is usually wrong.
Mary sees that the stone has been removed and right away runs and informs Simon Peter and the “other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved,”that, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb and we do not know where they have laid him.” Immediately she assumes that grave robbers had been there first; not an illogical conclusion; tomb raiding was a common occurrence in those days, attract ting the kind of attention then that terrorism does now.
The two men engage in a footrace to the tomb. The “beloved disciple” wins, sticks in his head, sees the linen wrappings, but stays out of the darkness of the chamber, saying nothing. Peter – braver, more impulsive – goes all the way in, spies the folded cloth – grave robbers were never that fastidious – yet he, too, says nothing. If you see nothing, say nothing.
Now, John does add that the beloved disciple, following Peter into the tomb, “saw and believed,” but his belief must have been somewhat lacking because John quickly adds the qualifier, “as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.”
Both men return to their homes in the slowly gathering light. They knew they had seen something suspicious; they knew they should probably tell someone about it, but who? They could hardly alert the authorities who were, after all, responsible for putting the body in the tomb in the first place. The two men may have even believed a little bit that what their teacher had told them was true; but none of this was enough to make them stick around to see what else would happen.
“But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb.” Her grief is stronger than her fear; unwilling to abandon the one who loved her, she lingers until she sees “two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying.” Still – despite this vision – she does not see; she thinks that the tomb has been raided: “They have taken away my Lord,” she weeps, “and I do not know where they have laid him.”
Still stunned, still seeking an answer, she turns around and sees Jesus but, that’s right, “she did not know that it was Jesus.” She thinks she is looking at the gardener; she sees but her belief is wrong; she sees something more than suspicious – something totally unexpected – and yet she says the same thing: “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him.”
Only when Jesus sees her - only when he calls her by her name, recognizing her – only then does she recognize him – only then does she see. As politicians are fond of saying these days, she finds her voice: “I have seen the Lord,” she announces to the disciples.
She sees something, she says something; she becomes the first eyewitness, not to the actual mechanics of the resurrection – no one witnessed that and none of the Gospels attempt to describe it. Of more importance to us today, Mary and those who come after her, are eyewitnesses to the aftermath of the resurrection, sharers in the blessings bestowed by the empty tomb. The tomb may be empty, but we most certainly are not.
The great Christian mystic and priest Thomas Merton said that, far from a one time event, the resurrection is a process of being reborn, moment to moment in a freedom and freshness centered in the very mystery of God. “The resurrected One is the very freshness of God,” he wrote, “the very freedom of Holy Wisdom, as a center that is within us and beyond us, every present yet ever new.”
Is this not the message imparted to Nicodemus who came to Jesus by night and was told, quite plainly, that “no one can see the kingdom of God without being born anew, or being born from above?” These words, some say, constitute the heart of Christian teaching on spiritual rebirth. Indeed, one noted writer says, “it can be argued that they constitute the very essence of Christianity, saying no to complacency, yes to self-struggle; no to evil, yes to good; no to ego, yes to God; no to darkness, yes to light, ‘the true light which enlightens everyone.’”
Everyone; the light cannot be extinguished; God cannot be contained. Peter, the first one in the empty tomb, knew that. It took him a little while, but he also saw something and he said something in front of Cornelius, a Gentile, “a devout man who feared God with all his household,” says Acts. “He gave alms generously to the people and prayed constantly to God.”
And God sent to his household Peter, that the freshness and the freedom of the resurrection might be seen and spoken of by an eyewitness. “Then Peter began to speak to them:” our text says, a bland expression that unfortunately misses the importance of what he is about to say. The King James and the Revised Standard Version both say, “Then Peter opened his mouth and said…” Much like Jesus saying, “Very truly, I tell you…,” when Peter “opens his mouth,” something monumental is about to come out. We’d better pay attention. And what does he say? “I truly understand that God shows no partiality, but in every nation anyone who fears him and does what is right is acceptable to him.” He truly understands; he sees something and he says something. It is plain to him that God has no favorites; anyone who honestly seeks him, anyone who humbly desires to serve him, is acceptable to him.
Indeed, the early Hebrew prophets understood this as well, saying that God’s call to Israel was an act of grace, not partiality; that it called for a response of obedient service, not careless complacency.
There’s that word again: “complacency.” It’s the third time it’s come up. The Executive Director of the MTA reminds us not to become complacent about the terrorist threat but to be alert for danger; a mystical priest reminds us not to become complacent about our spiritual growth, but to be alert for opportunities for new birth; and Peter and the prophets remind us not to become complacent about what we may regard as our favored place in God’s eyes, but be ever ready to make visible our devotion, our service, our love.
This love destroys all human boundaries, my friends, just as the resurrection destroyed the boundary of death itself, bringing to all creation the fullness of God’s eternal life. This love unites us on a level beyond words, beyond the languages of our cultures and faiths. Unites us on a level we sense more than we can describe.
Over a thousand years ago, a Sufi sheikh said that souls who love God, “know one another by smell…though one be in the East and the other in the West, they still feel joy and comfort in each other’s talk.” We feel that joy and comfort today in the presence of our Hindu friends, who are here celebrating the resurrection with us. In fact, I found that quote about souls who love God in the introduction to a brand new translation of the BhagavadGita, or “The Song of the Blessed One,” a love song to God, “a sublime hymn,” the translator says, “in praise of everything that is excellent and beautiful and brave.”
And in chapter 15 of the Gita, the blessed Lord says, “I dwell deep in the hearts of all beings; I am the source of memory and knowledge, the author of all scriptures, their wisdom, theirgoal.” Or, as Paul told the Romans: “God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us….So that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.”
And there you have it; that’s our goal; that’s what we want people to be alert to; that’s what we want people to see and to say something about; as lovers of God, God’s new life is brought to life in us; holy words made flesh through the exercise of our devotion; what is called Bhakti Yoga, the way of the love of God, a way which seeks the good of the world through worship of and service to God who dwells in the hearts of each of us.
Through our recognition of the transforming, indwelling God, which is, after all, the gift of the resurrection, we understand what it means to be born anew – again and again and again; through our recognition of the indwelling God, we understand what Peter meant when he said that God shows no partiality; that his love knows no boundaries, no barriers.
The Gita teaches that the visible universe is God made manifest through a multitude of names and forms; and if we love God, we love the world and we offer our loving service to everyone. Not just today, but every day we celebrate the joy of the resurrection and we lift up the name of Jesus who overcame death and opened to us the gates of everlasting life.
We have seen the Lord, my friends. On the bus, on the subway, in the commuter car, no matter where you are, don’t be complacent, say something about it.