OH WHERE, OH WHERE, CAN MY RABBI BE?

THE ANGELUS TRUMPET

The Unexpurgated Source for Alternative Bible Facts

OH WHERE, OH WHERE, CAN MY RABBI BE?

by Jack D. Sypal

Dateline: Jerusalem, April 27, 20:01:18

Over the years there has been much speculation about the relationship between Jesus and Mary Magdalene. So, I thought that it would only be right as a reporter to seek out another of the first shapers of the Christian movement, Mary herself, to conclude my series on how The Way began. Earlier conversations have been with Peter, James and John, and Thomas.

With the permission and support of The AngelUS Trumpet editorial staff, I caught a ship to Rome and then another to Marseille. From there I caught a pack-train going to Provence where I finally sat down with Mary Magdalene over a light lunch of some very good bread, a so-so wine, and an excellent salad with some home-grown olives.

Following lunch, Mary had the table cleared and then, with another glass of wine in her hand, she looked at me very directly and started to tell me about her life and her part in the Way.

“It seems like it was a different world back then. In many ways, it was. The heel of Rome was lifted against us in Palestine. Between Rome and the temple, taxes were high and life was difficult. My family had some money, but, even so, the powers of Rome, Herod’s taxes, Pilate’s brutality, they all created some tough times.

“The complicity of Annas and Caiaphas, and the rest of the priesthood, was understandable, I suppose; I mean, the priestly robes and head pieces that were used on high holy days were held and closeted by the governor. The priests were only allowed to wear them during the celebrations, and then they had to be returned to the governor’s care.

“It is hard to be independent when you have to go to your oppressor in order to perform your duties for the people and before the Lord. Eventually that kind of control erodes your faith in God and tempts you to think that the emperor and the power of Rome is equal to, or maybe even greater than the power of God. After that, it’s all about money and power, greed and self-aggrandizement.

“We were living in this world of tremendous wealth and of incredible poverty; and that was not by chance, it was by Roman design. The Emperor and his lackeys wanted to be sure that we felt the full power of Rome and knew that we were a conquered nation. They wanted us to know that our very existence as a nation depended on Rome’s pleasure.

“For instance, to demonstrate their power, soldiers would intentionally carry all their belongings with them wherever they went, but they carried their ruck-sack for only a short distance. Then they would impress one of the people in the street to carry it for them.

“We were required by law to carry the burden for a mile. At the end of a mile, the soldier would point to another person who would then have to carry the ruck-sack the next mile. Usually it was just back to the barracks. The whole time the soldiers would be jeering and taunting the person hoping to get him or her to rebel or respond in anger so that the soldier could slap the person down.

“I remember, there were all kinds of messiahs in those days who spoke out against the power of Rome and encouraged the people to rise against the Roman boot. Mostly, they and their followers were quickly seized and executed.

“Among the messiahs was John; he made a big splash for a while. He was baptizing anybody who would repent of their Roman ways and return to the old ways of the law. an ascetic of sorts I guess. He was making a lot of noise, telling us that we needed to stand up and be counted as the children of God, not slaves to Rome.  

“Eventually John got arrested by Herod for denouncing Herod’s marriage to Herodias. Yeah, his mouth eventually got him killed, but that’s another story. What was different about John was that he kept saying, ‘I am not the one. The one you are seeking is coming after me.’ We thought it was a clever way of deflecting attention from himself, but it turned out to be true.

“You see, this rather quiet rabbi showed up. He too was telling us that we needed to stand up for ourselves, but we were to stand up in love for one another. He advocated praying for our enemies and learning ways to lift up the poor. His teachings were not about defying Rome  with force, but resisting Rome with love. If we were impressed by the soldiers for a mile, we should volunteer to carry the burden another mile. We were to forgive the people who were our oppressors and find ways to be an active part of our world.

“I was just a young woman in those days, and I fell in love with what the rabbi was saying. I hadn’t fallen in love with the rabbi, but I really fell hard for what he was saying; and I thought that I could change the world with my good works. Oh yes, there was some hero worship in there, and it was exciting to be seen with him, but I really wasn’t in love with the rabbi. It was more about the movement than the person.

“I thought that, if I threw some of my family’s money at the poor, that the world would be changed, but it wasn’t money that changed the world. I thought that I could really do something for the lesser people; and then I learned that there aren’t any lesser people, only people we think less of. I learned that people had to do the things that brought recognition and dignity for themselves, that I couldn’t just wish it for them. I thought it was about me, but oh how I was wrong.

“In the course of things, I got to know all of the guys [Peter, James, John, Thomas, etc.] pretty well. I even got into their silly name calling. They called me Maggie Mae. It was so serious and so light-hearted at the same time. And, being a woman often alone with men, I got a reputation, but it was all talk.

“As the rabbi’s teaching gathered popularity, the number of followers increased. In time his following got pretty large, more than a hundred of us that got together regularly. There were enough of us that the rabbi was able to send us out to some of the neighboring towns.

“It was wonderful. To do the work of the rabbi was like life itself. We were young. We were enthused. We were the future. It was amazing! It was an education.

“Oh, I almost forgot to mention the wedding and the wine, Lazy Larry, Isaac Seituwel, and Lazarus; those were the flashy moments, but the best part was learning from the rabbi. Do you know how amazing it was for me, a woman, to be allowed to learn from a rabbi? It was heady stuff and I loved every minute of it.                                                                    

 “I learned to think like him and even observed as he taught the other guys what it meant to be a disciple. The look on Philip’s face the day that the rabbi told him to feed the people who had gathered on the hill to hear what the rabbi had to say, it was precious. Then they found little Sol with the fish and the bread, and the rest is history. I don’t care whether you call it a sign or a miracle. It was amazing to watch those people eat their fill and then have leftovers.  It made you think that world hunger could be conquered with a little generosity and some good will. Anyway, it really felt possible that day.

“At the end, things felt like they were falling apart. You know about the last supper. You know about his arrest and the trial. You know that he was crucified and that they laid him in the new tomb in the garden. You know about the total collapse of the movement.

“You can’t believe how we felt when Rome won again. We were used to being sold out by the priesthood and the temple officials—they were just trying to hold on to what they had. I suppose the charitable thing to say is that they were biding their time for the moment when Rome would go away and leave us alone. Or maybe, that the priests and the scribes and Sadducees were waiting for the day when Rome could be overthrown. I don’t know anymore, but to involve one of our own? It still seems impossible.

“What I know is that we were decimated. We were gutted like the fish in the market. The guys went to the safe house and holed up. I had some rooms nearby that my family held for business in Jerusalem so I stayed there.

“We all spent Sabbath together, and then, early in the morning I went to sit and think about what was next. That’s when it happened. I saw that the stone was rolled away and the tomb was opened. You could smell the myrrh and aloe from the burial clothes, but the tomb looked empty.

“I ran to tell Beloved and Peter that the rabbi’s body was stolen, and they ran to the tomb. If anything, they were even more upset than I was. They went all the way into the tomb, thinking that someone might have come and defiled the body in some way, but there was no body.

“They left in silence. Tears were pouring down their faces as they left, but I just couldn’t bring myself to leave right away. So, I went into the tomb to see for myself. That’s when I saw the pile of grave clothes soaked in myrrh, the face cloth rolled up on the side, and the two angels. I thought that it was just a vision, a product of my tortured imagination, but one of the angels spoke to me, ‘Why are you crying?’

“I couldn’t believe it: ‘Why was I crying?’ Because my world was falling apart, that’s why, because one of my best friends ever had died, because everything I thought was worth anything had turned to dust and less than that. They each had this stupid smirk on their faces, and so I turned away. I turned away because I was angry—angry enough to want to die on the spot—and then, when I was trying to leave, I ran right into somebody else.

“Through the tears and my rage, in the midst of my despair and devastation, I searched for anything that might make sense. Supposing him to be the gardener, I lashed out. ‘Where, oh where, can my rabbi be? Where have you laid him?,’ I cried. ‘I know that you have taken him away from me. If you tell me where you have laid him, I will take him away from you, so I can have some peace in this world.’

“I might have even tried to bribe him with some of my family’s money, and then he called me by name. I couldn’t believe it. I knew that voice. I’d heard it thousands of times before. ‘Teacher?’ I asked.

“And then I knew. He had told us in so many ways that this was going to happen, but we just didn’t get it. I mean, how could we have known? I know there was Lazarus; but that was the rabbi’s work, and Lazarus was sick. We never thought that anyone could come back from a crucifixion. And yet, he was standing right in front of me, speaking words of wisdom. Could it be?

“He told me everything I needed to know and a whole lot more, and then I went to tell the rest of the disciples. They thought I was hysterical and didn’t pay me any mind until that night when they saw him too. You know about Ditto [Thomas] and how that played out. What you don’t know is that even after they had seen the rabbi, they insisted on staying in that stupid room.

“I think that they would be there today if I hadn’t shamed them into leaving. I reminded them all about the times they had promised to have his back, all the times they promised to follow him, all of their pronouncements about the rabbi being the messiah. They called him the Jam Man after all. Didn’t that mean anything to them?

“Did they think that our time together had just been a little political game? I told them that lives matter and the news of the rabbi’s resurrection had to mean something for all people or else the rabbi’s life meant nothing at all. What were we going to do about it? That’s when Peter decided to go fishing. And that fishing trip eventually made the difference.

“After that, the guys went their separate ways, each telling the story as they remembered it. My place in the story, with the other women, got smaller and smaller until you’d have thought that the guys did everything and we were just the auxiliary—sex toys and eye candy. But that was not the way it was.

“One day I decided to find my own place. I decided Ditto had had the right idea: to get away from the chaos in the middle of the empire and go to places where people were less concerned about Rome and more concerned about living, a place where I could remember those days and tell the story as I had learned and lived them. So, here I am.

“No, I am not in one of the lesser places of the world. I am in a place that people think of less. Personally, that’s fine with me. I don’t need high-profile coverage. As a matter of fact, I thought long and hard about talking with you today. But someone has to tell that he lives. The tomb couldn’t hold him. He has ascended to his father and our Father, to God, whom he always professed. He has sent us the Advocate as he promised and with the Advocate I continue to grow in faith, trusting that his message of love will ultimately overcome the powers of evil, greed, self-aggrandizement, self-interest, and hatred.

“Ditto may have been the first one to say it out loud, but he was not the only one to know that our rabbi, our Jam-Man, Jesus, the messiah, is our Lord and our God. He lived among us. He lives with us and through us. He will come again to gather us to himself in the last day.

“In the meantime, I have this simple life with simple fare, and simple ways that do not include Roman imperialism. I would thank you for not sharing precise directions on how to get here.

“And now, I think it is time for you to go. I can do nothing more for you.”

As I walked down the road to my evening’s lodging, I heard Mary say, “Thanks for caring enough to come. Luv ya, man.” 

An Easter Story Lithograph

An Easter Story Lithograph

rev. 4/16/2017

Alleluia! He is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia! Happy Easter!

By now, I am sure that you know that the stone got rolled away from the tomb to be the base of the snow man and that the clothes of the angel didn’t just look as white as snow, they were snow, and Jesus saw his shadow this morning so that there will be six more weeks of winter. Oh, yes, there must have been some magic in the old silk hat they found, for when they placed it on his head he began…I’m sorry,…six more weeks of winter? It’s the middle of April! What was I thinking?  At times, I am such a blockhead. I have something much more important to talk about than silly old superstitious nonsense.

I have come to tell you about the joys of being a Christian stone, okay you might call me a rock. My name is Petros, it means rock, because I’m a little dense, hard-hearted you might say—rock, dense, hard, get it?

Now, if you are one of the people in the world who believe in reincarnation, then I might be your worst nightmare because this is where you end up when you haven’t succeeded in any of the other life forms you have known. Of course, if you believe in reincarnation, you already know that the afterlife is a punishment.

Let me tell you a secret. It’s not the case. Today I am here to tell you that I am one of the happiest rocks that has ever rolled down hill because it’s not true.

But before I tell you the news, let me tell you something about life as a rock. It’s not all it’s cracked up to be. There are some rocks that are destined to greatness—Michelangelo’s Pieta and David, now there were some rocks stars that really made it. Then, of course, you know about Rushmore, and the problems those rocks have—constant cosmetic surgery; Lord, have mercy. They always have someone working on them. The stories I could tell you and the foundation makeup they use… I’m sorry, I get carried away.

Then there are the finer building stones. Some of them are so good that they get used over and over again. Some of my closest relatives started out in the Roman Coliseum and ended up in St. Peter’s Cathedral.

That’s a funny one, too. Peter is just Petros in another language. So really, it’s St Rock’s Cathedral, made out of stones.


Well, my friends and I thought it was funny.

Then there are the cobblestones. They’re another branch of the family who just lie around in roads, patios, and sidewalks—not great stones, but sometimes helpful. Some of them are tricksters so watch your step.

Me, well, I’m sort of common. Old Granddad Bluff said I’d never amount to much. “Lacks grit and polish,” he said.

I had dreams about greatness at one time, but when the sculptors came, they passed me by. They can be such chiselers you know, always looking for a bargain. When the builders came, they said that I was flawed; rejected again.

I was too big to be a cobblestone, too small to be a monument, too flawed to be much of anything. I was rejected and afraid that, like my dreams, I would be crushed. It is hard enough to grovel, but to be gravel?

Then one day a cryptcarver came along and sized me up, rolled me onto his cart, and carted me to the mausoleum he was building. I was going to be the boundary marker between the living and the dead. On the greatness scale, it’s not so much.

As I said, if you believe in reincarnation, this is about as low as you can go—not really in the world of the living, almost in the world of the dead. I thought, “There are corks that are better off than this.”

It didn’t take long. (At least in daylight rock time, which is an hour faster than standard rock time, so it didn’t seem like it took long.) The day came when they brought a dead man to put into the tomb. Then, they rolled me into place. A notch carved into the ground made it easy to sit there, but because of my flaws, I suppose, people came with clay and pushed it in around the edges. Then a soldier came and pressed the temple seal into the clay in four places.

That night I heard them talking. The dead man was Jesus of Nazareth. Some thought that he was a holy man sent from heaven to save the people from Roman rule, but he was just a man; and the soldiers were there to make sure that riots didn’t break out during the great Sabbath of Passover.
You never know what kinds of crazy things followers of these so-called prophets might do. Some people went so far as to say that he was the son of God. As if.

And then, it started. I thought it was a sigh at first and then a burst of air. It pushed hard against the sealed edges of the hole I was covering. It seemed as if the inside space was too big and had to come out. Like a giant sneeze, that came from somewhere deep inside the earth this breath of…of life came bursting out around me. Then everything started to happen at once.

Lightening started flashing, the earth started shaking, the soldiers cried for mercy and fell down on the ground; the clay seals broke apart, and I was rolling. I can tell you. There was a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on. And then, and then, Jesus, the dead man, walked out of the tomb and into my life; and this other person came and sat on me.

Two women came, and the person talked with them. “Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified. He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said. Come, see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He has been raised from the dead, and indeed he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him.’”


It was the strangest thing. I know that rocks don’t look very animated, but that day I was so proud to be Petros, the rolling stone, the rock, with all of my imperfections. In spite of the fact that I had been turned down for almost every job of any greatness, I, Petros, was the first to witness the amazing resurrection breath of life.


It was not reincarnation. Jesus did not come out as something less than he had been before, instead he seemed quite the same but somehow more. This rising from the dead was not a punishment to walk the earth, to learn a lesson, or to become one with the universe. I tell you Jesus walked out of the tomb like a man with a mission. There was no compromise in what he did or said.

“Hello!” he said, and the women came to him, bowed down to the ground, took hold of his feet, and kissed them. You could tell that they were scared. It’s not everyday that you see and hear and touch someone who has been raised from the dead. As I said, there was a whole lotta shakin’ goin’ on.

And Jesus said to them, “Don’t be afraid; get up, go and tell the others to go to Galilee; there they will see me.” And he left.

Over the centuries, I have heard the stories of Jesus’ disciples, how they went to Galilee, told the resurrection story to the world, and how they baptized the people of the world into the name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but, more than that, I need to tell you that the world was changed that day.

I, Petros, the rock, sealed and settled at the tomb, could not stand in way of the resurrection. I was rolled away for new life to enter the world, and I was changed. My ordinary, flawed self became the cornerstone of the church. God used me to be a symbol of the resurrection.

Each Easter I am used again as the foundation stone to build faith. I roll away with joy. With me, you see God’s anointed son, Jesus Christ, walk from death to live with us in ministry—leading and calling us in love; to join, as servants of all, to shake the powers of the world, to be living stones.

All of us can be a little hard-hearted at times, but do we want to be stones, stuck and sealed over death, or stones rolled away so that others might see and know the promise and hope of life?

Alleluia! Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

New Salvation Song Matthew 28:1-10

Sue and I are not parents, but we are proud to be Aunt and Uncle. My sister has five girls, the last two were twins.


When the twins were little, and Sue and I stopped in to visit, we could always count on some quiet time with the girls. We might be sitting on the back porch or in the family room when the twins would suddenly appear and ask if they could sing for us. It was fun. Sue and I always felt honored that they would want to sing for us. But what made these impromptu performances really memorable for me was how the girls picked their song list.


Amanda would look at Jennifer, or maybe it was Jennifer who looked at Amanda and say. Let’s sing the new song we learned.


“Which one?”
“You know.”
“Okay, you start.”
“I don’t remember how it goes,” one would say.
“Me either.”
“Yes, you do.”
“Oh, yeah,” the other would say.


And then they’d start singing.


What really amazed me about these performances was that each of the girls seemed to know half the lines, but not all of them. First one would sing and then the other would sing. By the end of each line, both girls would be singing but, it seemed that the first few words of each line were only known by one.


Sometimes they would stop and correct one another.

“No, that’s not right. It’s this way.”
“Oh, yeah,” the other would say, and then they would start again.


It was mind boggling to witness and sometimes really funny. Individually neither one could have entertained us with those songs, nor could either one have been as entertaining, but as a team, they could sing for quite a long time.

In some ways, our lives in Christ are like those two little girls singing their hearts out. We have the desire to sing, and the world needs to hear us sing, but we don’t always know how to get started. We need a partner who knows how to get us started. We turn to the people around us and say, “Let’s sing that new song we learned; you know, the song of salvation. You start.” But the person we turn to is not always confident with the words either.


Sometimes we think that singing the song by ourselves is the way to go, but then things get really confused—we tend to forget the words of salvation and sing about ourselves instead. In those times, we need to be stopped, receive correction from the choir, and start again. Sometimes we have to remember that the song is something that we have learned from someone else. That person thought the song was important enough to teach us, and, if we think the song is important, the song needs to be shared with people we know and love. (When we can sing for our families, we learn how to sing for the enjoyment of others.)


It is important to remember that this joyful singing is not necessarily something that we start out doing well. We may start by only being able to join in by the end of the line. We won’t always know the beginning. Oh yes, some of us might be natural soloists, but most of us find that we sound much better when we sing as a choir—in the embrace of friends who can cover for us when we make mistakes, or remind us of the words when we forget the song. Sometimes they can even teach us new melodies to old words. "Let’s sing the song of salvation to this tune. You start."


Today, with the two Marys we come to the tomb expecting the same old, same old. And then we feel the earth quake. Our world is shaken up by war and prejudice and poverty. We don’t have the same confidence in the world that we had a few years ago. We’re not even sure that we have the same security in the church that we once had. Our very existence in Rural America is challenged. There is a kind of despair in our old song, as we come to the tomb, and we like to sing our same old songs. They’re familiar and have a kind of comfortable security about them, but then we discover the open tomb and the words of our song begin changing.


Like the Marys, we are surprised to see that there’s a messenger sitting on a rock by the tomb teaching us the new salvation song with new words: no longer can despair and death be the statements of who we are. We learn that the old ways may not be the ways of the future but they can inform the ways of the future. “He is not here; he has been raised from the dead as he said.” The words of the past have given us a new way to sing the Jesus song. The song is not only about a wonderful man who had compassion for the less fortunate of the world, it is a song that proclaims God’s love for the world, a love so strong that Jesus’ death on the cross becomes the first note of our salvation song. “Father, forgive them.”


It is no longer a song that can be held by a few disciples, it is a song that must be sung to the world. It must be taught to the world. It must be shared with others in the way we live. It is extravagant and bold because God has been extravagant and bold for us first.


Listen, the song is clear and beautiful; it has a lilting melody that brings hope and joy to those who hear it. Do not be afraid; I know that you are looking for Jesus who was crucified.  He is not here; for he has been raised, as he said he would be. Go quickly; sing this song first to his disciples. Here are the words, "Jesus has been raised from the dead! Indeed, he is going ahead of you to Galilee, to Brooklyn, to Brodhead, Orfordville, Attica, Magnolia, Monroe, Evansville, Janesville, New Glarus, Belleville, Oregon, and beyond; there you will see Christ in the people you meet and you will learn more new words to the salvation song." This is God’s song for you.


Today, on this day of resurrection, we learn that there is a song for us and that there is someone who will stand with us before the world to sing. Today we learn that more than knowing all of the words to the song, it is just important to sing the salvation song even if we are not sure of the words. We learn that we should sing the song for unsuspecting audiences and in doing this we will learn to sing the song with confidence; we will learn to sing in ways that encourage other to join us in our merry making. So, raise your tambourines high and get the rhythm going. For the dance is about to begin.


Yes, we come today saying, “Let’s sing a song—that new song we just learned—the one about God’s victory over death. We don’t know the beginning; so, Jesus, you start.”


The amazing thing is that Jesus does start the song for us. It is a song of sadness, "Christ has died". It’s a song of joy, “Christ is risen.” It’s a song of hope, “Christ will come again.” So, let us join the singing as we learn our song—the song that Jesus gave us—the song of our salvation.


Now have you got it. The words are really easy to learn and it has a good beat that’s easy to dance to. You start.


Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia, alleluia!

Easter Day

John 20:1-18 (NRSV)       Jesus is Alive

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 from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” Then Peter and the other disciple set out and went toward the tomb. The two were running together, but the other disciple outran Peter and reached the tomb first. He bent down to look in and saw the linen wrappings lying there, but he did not go in. Then Simon Peter came, following him, and went into the tomb. He saw the linen wrappings lying there, and the cloth that had been on Jesus’ head, not lying with the linen wrappings but rolled up in a place by itself. Then the other disciple, who reached the tomb first, also went in, and he saw and believed; for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead. Then the disciples returned to their homes.

 But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb; and she saw two angels in white, sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She said to them, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.” When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.” Jesus said to her, “Mary!” She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni!” (which means Teacher). Jesus said to her, “Do not hold on to me, because I have not yet ascended to the Father. But go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples, “I have seen the Lord”; and she told them that he had said these things to her.

There are many of us who remember with nostalgic fondness Joni Mitchell’s words,

“We are stardust, we are golden,
We are trapped in the devil’s bargain,
But we’ve got to get ourselves

back to the garden.” (Woodstock, 1969)

With these words, Joni Mitchell captured the restless anxiety of a nation in pain and pointed the way to a more idyllic place—the garden.

Others, of you, will recall C. Austin Miles’, 1912 spiritual song, In the Garden, “I walk through the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses.”

 In both cases, the songs speak of places that do not and cannot exist. We cannot get back to the past because the past is over; it is dead. That would be living in a grave. Nor can we peacefully walk in a garden holding Christ to ourselves. That would mean that we had cut ourselves off from the world. They are pleasant places to visit in our minds, but we shouldn’t want to live there.

In today’s reading we see Mary in the garden. As in the Garden of Eden, God comes to speak with the people of creation. But Mary does not recognize who the speaker is. She thinks it is the olive grove gardener, and it is. What she doesn’t understand is that he is the Master Gardener—the one who raised us up from the humus to be humans; the one who breathed the breath of life into us; the one who put the garden into our hands to care for, the one raised up for us. Mary doesn’t fully understand the world of resurrection even though Jesus has told her that he would be raised. Maybe we don’t either. In the garden that the Master Gardener gave us, with Mary, we meet this one who is speaking, the one who walks among us and knows our lives and pain even unto death. But, at the sound of her name, her teacher is fully revealed to her. And, at the sound of our names—“______, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever.” (ELW, Sacrament of Holy Baptism)—Christ is fully revealed to us.

Yet the cemetery garden is not a place where we can or want to stay. The one in the garden is not standing still, and neither can we. In the cemetery garden, we are commanded to re-enter the world of the living. “Go to my brothers and say to them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” And Mary goes.

We are reminded that all the world is God’s garden. We are to tell our gardening companions that God continues to be active and present in our world. It is not a place to get back to; it is not a place where we are alone. It is in the center of the world we live in with the people that God has given us to serve.

In Candide, Voltaire tells us that if we want peace in the world we need to tend our gardens. Our Master Gardener gives us similar advice, “Tend my garden. Spread the good news!”

Christ is risen! He is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Prayer

We give you thanks, dear Lord, for breaking the bonds of death and freeing us from the chains of history. Help us always to walk with you into the new future you have given us, with hope and the confidence you give. Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia, amen.