John 20:1-18 But why? Why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? There is, of course, the easy answer. Mary stood weeping outside the tomb because, arriving at the tomb, she discovered that Jesus’ body had been stolen. But that’s the easy answer. Easy answers are, as often as not, simplifications; and simplifications are, as often as not, distortions. So, let us look beyond the easy answer and ask again, Why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? Mary was one of those people whom nature had favored. And nature does play favorites -- that much is undeniable. Mary was tenacious, discerning, steadfast, spontaneous, courageous – not to mention brimming with natural affections. Yes, she was one of those people whom nature had favored, but sometimes that is not enough. Mary had a bad start in life, and that tends to temper even nature’s most generous gifts. When Jesus first encountered Mary, she was not of sound spirit. She was afflicted and tormented. But Jesus performed a miracle that recalled her to life. She became his passionate and devoted follower. It would seem that her past was behind her. Like with so many others Jesus encountered, Mary had been lost and now was found. But this only led her to the foot of his cross. She had endured the entire spectacle. Dark men – petty, jealous, and scheming -- closed in on him. They subjected him to a farce of a trial, and this only as a formality. They intended to see him executed from the very beginning. The disciples, for their part, panicked and scattered. What if they were next to be targeted? But not Mary. She abided with him those endless hours as he hung on the cross right through to his death agony. She watched from a distance as Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus deposed his body from the cross and laid it in a tomb. Mary was shattered. She was traumatized. She was devastated. She was forced to endure the unthinkable – the death of one deeply beloved, and to malicious violence. But Mary was not entirely bereft. She still had his body. She could cleanse and anoint it, bestow upon it what loving care she could. And going forward she could become that person – the one who visits the graveside, the one who keeps memories alive, the one whose tears are never exhausted. In time she would achieve a sort of notoriety for it, but it’s the kind of notoriety no one wants. But she arrived at his tomb only to discover that his body had been stolen. So why did Mary stand weeping outside the tomb? She stood weeping outside the tomb because she had hit rock bottom. I have never hit rock bottom. If dread keeps it at bay, dread has done that much for me. But I have seen others who have. It’s a terrible thing to witness, much less to experience. A kind of derangement takes hold. They aren’t recognizable. They aren’t themselves. This is why Mary couldn’t add up two and two. She peered into the tomb and saw two angels robed in white raiment. Why are you weeping? They asked. Now they didn’t ask because they wanted to hear her theory about the graverobbers. This was not the sense of their question. Woman, why are you weeping? They were asking to convey that there was nothing to weep about. And it was the same thing when the resurrected Jesus asked the same question. Woman, why are you weeping? There’s nothing to weep about. I am alive. I am here. I am with you. Dry your tears. But Mary had hit rock bottom, so it didn’t add up. But then Jesus said something. Something cataclysmic. Something earth shattering. Something beyond description and explanation. And something right under our noses. If there’s one trait we all share, one thing we are all good at, one thing we are all GREAT at, it’s not seeing what’s right under our noses. Jesus called her by name. Mary! he said. And suddenly the truth broke in on her. Dimly, but at the same time, and paradoxically, with crystal clarity. She knew. She knew how we know most deeply – in our bones, in our guts, in our hearts. This man so beloved by her – her teacher, healer, leader, friend….he was much more than that. He was the one that time could not bind, the one that darkness could not thwart. He was the one over whom death had no dominion. He was the one she declared him to be. He was the Lord. And he called her by name . Rock bottom? There was no rock bottom. There was only hope, consolation, meaning, purpose, direction, relief, and rejoicing. From his height to her depth, he called her by name. Rock bottom? She now had good news to proclaim, and she proclaimed it for all she was worth. Friends in Christ, her good news is our good news. No matter what you’ve done, what you are doing, or what you will do. No matter how low you fall. No matter how deep you sink. No matter how bad you’re stuck. His deliverance has your name on it. His triumph has your name on it. His love has your name on it. So let us call him by name – Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen. 

Galatians 5:22-23 Luke 21: 1-4 Permit me to boast on my sons Herry and Adam for a bit. We recently vacationed in Door County. We had never been before. Door County is a really awesome place. It’s stunningly beautiful. There are endless fun things to do. And everyone is in a great mood because everyone is on vacation. We were seated at a restaurant. A spirit of bonhomie pervaded the place. I noticed a particularly jovial family at a table nearby. The family resemblance made it clear that the family was comprised of a matriarch, her two sons, and her two sons’ wives. The star of the family, however, was their dog. That’s another really awesome thing about Door County. Dogs are permitted in restaurants. Seated at their feet was a Cane Corso with an official looking harness that closely resembled a uniform. On it was embossed the name Zeus. You may not know anything about Cane Corsos because they’re a rare breed. They happen to be one of the oldest breeds. They served as auxiliary warriors in the Roman Empire, so you can imagine how impressive Zeus was. And he was perfectly trained, staring nobly and impassively ahead of him. What a great family, I thought to myself. But suddenly a minor disaster struck. One of the women picked up her purse upside down and its entire contents fell out, including countless coins which went rolling in every direction. It was as though the boys were seated in ejector seats. They sprang into action chasing down her purse contents and her coins. “Why thank you!” the woman exclaimed, surprised. Her husband called out, “Let the boys keep the coins.” “They aren’t doing it to be rewarded,” I said. “They are doing it because I am raising them up to be Good Samaritans.” “Let them keep them anyway,” he persisted. “They won’t accept them,” I said. And they didn’t. The woman then thanked them again profusely. They boys said, “You’re welcome,” and we returned to our respective meals. A couple minutes later, my daughter May whispered in my ear, “Mom, that woman is beaming at us.” I looked up. She was beaming at us. I am not used to being beamed at. It is a little embarrassing. Her husband said, “Would you like to pet Zeus?” “Yes!” we all exclaimed. “Zeus, free,” he commanded. Zeus dutifully arose and, oozing noblesse oblige, suffered himself to be petted. The woman who had been beaming at us came over and said, “Your boys just made my day.” “You hear so much on the news about how horrible everything and everyone is.” “Well, you made my day,” I returned. “You validated what I am trying to teach my boys, namely that being helpful and respectful goes a long way with people.” From there we chalked up a conversation. “Where are you folks from?” I asked. “Elmhurst, Illinois,” they answered. My jaw dropped. “Where are you folks from?” they asked in return. “Elmhurst, Illinois,” I said. I was raised in Elmhurst, Illinois and lived there for over fifty years before moving to Wisconsin recently. All of a sudden, our encounter became a God thing. Because coincidences are as often as not God things. The Bible talks all about signs. It says they’re real. And one sign is a coincidence. Lest you think I am naïve or gullible on this score, I have Soren Kierkegaard is on my side. And who is Soren Kierkegaard, you might ask? Soren Kierkegaard is one of the greatest theologians that Christendom has ever produced. Matthew, Mark, Luke, John, Paul, Irenaeus, Tertullian, Augustine, Athanasius, Luther, Calvin…Soren Kierkegaard is every inch their equal. And Soren Kierkegaard once wrote, “Coincidence is the divine incognito.” I am done boasting on my sons, and even though I love boasting on my sons, there is moral to this story. It is this. You don’t need to move heaven and earth to be a good Christian. You don’t need establish world peace or discover a cure for cancer. You just need, within your sphere of influence, to reflect love, joy, peace, patience, forbearance, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Because think about Jesus for a moment. Did you ever wonder why he taught so often in simple parables? It’s because his audience was the people of the earth, the Am ‘Haaretz as the Bible calls them. The people of the earth were kind of a combination of peasants and farmers. They were the common people. And Jesus didn’t teach them in his parables to overthrow Rome and establish the New Jerusalem. He taught them that they were the salt of the earth. He taught them not to worry so much about the things of this life. He taught them to seek after the kingdom of God. He taught them that their efforts mattered. He taught them to let their light shine. And speaking of Jesus, let’s reflect a little about our New Testament lesson. No, let’s reflect a lot about our New Testament lesson. Because it’s dumbfounding. Jesus was at the temple. Now the temple was a place of massive import. It was at the heart of Jerusalem. It was steeped in historical, political, and religious significance. It was a magnificent building. It was a place to be, so everyone was there. There were the religious authorities, the Sadducees, who presided over the sacrifices. There were those who made the sacrifices. There were pilgrims from all over the Diaspora. There were the people who came to be seen -- the rich and the powerful who made their flamboyant donations to the treasury. There were the people who came to gape at the rich and powerful as they made their flamboyant donations to the treasury. The place was, to put it mildly, a hub of activity. It would be hard to find the story line amidst all that activity. It would be like trying to find the story line at Time Square. But Jesus didn’t have any trouble finding the story line. The story line was poor, elderly, widow who made her way to the treasury to donate her pittance. I am surprised she had the temerity to be there in the first place poor -- elderly widow. She was of such negligible consequence, amidst all those other players. Imagine her standing in line with the rich and powerful. Probably what emboldened her is that she knew she was utterly invisible. But she wasn’t invisible to Jesus. To Jesus she was the story line. Her donation might have been small. It wasn’t going to get a wing of the temple named after her. But that’s not the point. The point is that she gave freely with the little she had. She gave faithfully with the little she had. She gave generously with the little she had. And that was enough for Jesus. And we too can be enough for Jesus if we emulate her example. Amen.