"Thirsting for Jesus"

Sermon: Easter Sunday year A

The Rev. Anne Kennedy

The Church of the Good Shepherd

But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb.

When I am really tired and dehydrated I get weepy.

I first noticed this in the village I grew up in Africa .

My mother and I were standing in the kitchen

in the middle of the hot parched afternoon—

it was probably about 110 degrees outside—

and she started to cry.

It wasn't totally unusual.

My mother cries plenty, as I do.

There's always a good reason to cry.

And its a satisfying thing to do—if you're a woman.

I haven't yet met a man who can really appreciate and enjoy a good cry.

Anyway, my mother was crying.

But instead of indulging herself and sitting down to weep,

she dashed over to the water jar,

grabbed a glass and took a big long drink.

And after she'd drunk, she smiled and said,

‘I've just recently noticed that when I'm really thirsty I start to cry'.

It was so odd.

It just stuck pristinely in my mind.

And then, much later.

I was standing in my own kitchen,

harboring and nursing some grief and I realized,

as I cried, how thirsty I was.

So, I took a drink.

A long cool drink. And that was it.

I wasn't sad, I had just been thirsty.

But this week I've been tired too.

And the combination of tired and thirsty is too much to combat.

Its been easier to give in and cry.

Grief is like that too.

It's overwhelming.

It takes over everything else—

shoving everything else aside, moving in and taking over.

That's where Mary is this morning.

Overwhelmed, tired, thirsty, exhausted.

She's been on the edge of her seat all week.

It's just been one thing after another.

An exhausting day last Sunday—

very exciting and wonderful,

when Jesus rode triumphally into Jerusalem .

But like any big deal, it was exhausting when it was all over.

And there was no time to come down from that experience and recuperate.

The horrors of Jesus being taken captive,

tried like a criminal and then executed were like a roller coaster.

You just hung on for the ride,

hoping that the insanity going on in Jerusalem would stop,

that everyone would pause and take a breath

and realize that Jesus was not a person that needed to die.

But nobody paused.

Full steam ahead, the whole city rushed to kill Jesus as fast as they could.

And within a matter of hours,

Jesus, whom you loved and adored was dead,

swallowed up by death.

The great mercy of shock settled in.

You and the other disciples slept fitfully

and then, before dawn, the women were up to do that last great important task—

care for his poor, broken, destroyed body.

So, when his body isn't there, you can't deal.

It's the last straw.

It's a horrible thing when you loose someone and the body can't be recovered.

I've never experienced this myself, but, like many of you,

I've watched and mourned when great sweeping tragedies happen—

like the tsunami, and 911—

and remarked the deep abiding need to recover

and account for the bodies of people lost

and send them back to their families and countries.

It's horrible when someone just walks out of this life, into death—

loosing their body also is too much.

That's because, as we've been saying all week,

our bodies matter as well as our souls.

They're meant to be together for eternity—

we were created with both, and meant to go on having both for ever and ever.

As Mary is weeping, she stoops to look in the tomb one more time.

Knowing there is nothing there, she looks anyway—one last ditch hope.

Two angels are sitting in the place where the body should be—

one at the head and one at the feet.

This, under normal circumstances would be an amazing experience,

To see angels and communicate with them

but for Mary, blinded and burdened with grief,

it doesn't make very much of an impact.

Woman, why are you weeping?

Mary explains; haltingly—

just let me have his body.

Just tell me where it is.

And then look how gracious God is to Mary.

The angels don't explain to her,

as they did to the disciples.

She doesn't hear from her friends.

She doesn't have to figure it out herself,

struggling in her weeping to connect all the dots.

No, as she bowed down, weeping at the grave of her friend,

Jesus himself comes.

‘Woman, he says, why are you weeping?'

And notice, Jesus, resurrected in his own body,

is so outside of her expectations; she can't even see who he is.

Which happens to us, too, doesn't it?

We expect and plan for one thing in our lives,

we cope with our griefs and troubles so much on our own,

that very often,

when God is right there in front of us,

acting in and directing our lives, we can't see it at all.

And then we rail at God—Where are you? What are you doing?

Or, as Mary said to Jesus, ‘Give me his body! Tell me where it is! Please.'

And then Jesus says her name, ‘Mary.' And she sees who he is.

If you spent any time with the 3 to 6 year olds in Sunday school,

You would know a couple of key important facts about the Good Shepherd.

You would know that he knows his sheep, and his sheep know him.

That they know the sound of his voice.

You would know that the Good Shepherd calls each of his sheep by name.

That he takes them out and brings them home safely.

That he lays down his life for his sheep, only to take it up again.

That he leads them to cool water to drink.

That he revives and restores his sheep.

Jesus, the Good Shepherd, does all these things himself.

His own being sustains and renews us, strengthens us, saves us.

One way or another we are all thirsty,

We can't live, without water.

But more than thirst for water, the deepest of our longings is for God.

You can try all kinds of other things, but ultimately,

only God will be able to satisfy all your needs.

This morning, Jesus, resurrected, alive, is calling your name.

Whatever is going on in your life, wherever you are

Whatever you are dealing with

If you are weighed down with burdens you don't know what do to with

If you are grieved over a broken relationship

If you don't know in which direction to go

Jesus is here, alive, calling your name.

Only he can satisfy all the things you long for.

Turn to him, let him lift your burdens,

Forgive your sins, satisfy your needs and longings.

Alleluia, he is risen!