Touch Me Not

Sermon John 20:1-18 (KJV) April 12, 2020 Easter in COVID19 Naomi Makemie & Francis Makemie Presbyterian Churches

Touch Me Not

There you are out there somewhere.

I cannot see you.

I cannot touch you.

But there you are out there.

I know its true.

You are beyond my ability to see, to hear, to touch and yet I know you are there watching and I am comforted by this truth.

This reality of your presence even in the emptiness of this space is what we believe week after week.

Yes, I’m talking about our resurrected Lord.

You thought I was talking about you?

Well, that’s true too.

I miss you. I miss our face to face time. It's not easy to be at virtual church. 

But, I’m grateful you are here with me today, with each other today.

Today of all days we are in awe of the truth Jesus spoke to Mary at the tomb-‘touch me not’ (KJV translation) ; for I have not yet ascended to the Father, but go tell that I am ascending to my Father, your Father, my God, your God.’ In this moment we witness the reality of our entrance into the kingdom of God. Jesus is including all who hear the invitation that his Father is also our Father, his God is our God.

I don’t think we’ve ever been aware of the power of touch in our lives until we’ve been told we cannot touch. We’ve been aware of our noses itching, our eyes burning, and our ears tickling. We’ve been trying to deal with them without using our fingers to scratch, rub, or wipe our facial parts.

We are told not to touch our loved ones.

Do not hug them.

Do not kiss them.

Do not come near them.

Stay six feet away from everyone.

How hard this has been for us all. The ones we love most are protected best by our absence. It is contrary to our understanding of love. It is a paradox. It is impossible to comprehend.

Perhaps that’s why John’s gospel account of the resurrection is so poignant this year. Mary arrives alone in the morning. She discovers the stone rolled away. And without even researching further she runs away to tell Peter and John. She reaches the conclusion by the evidence of the stone rolled away that the body of Jesus has been stolen.

She had witnessed his death at the crucifixion.

She witnessed his burial in the tomb as she wrapped his body and anointed it with spices.

She witnessed the stone rolled in place.

The only conclusion when she witnessed it moved was that someone had moved the body of Jesus. Her grief of his death was now deepened even further with this loss of his body.

She cannot be contained in her despair.

Sometimes we witness just one thing. And with that one piece of evidence make all kinds of conclusions without even a moments hesitation. We run to tell everyone what we think and we all get spun up. We begin to tell a story that’s not quite the truth. We end up creating a narrative that suits our account without ever finding out more.

Our deepest longings, our greatest desires are what turn us back.

They are what cause us to enter into spaces and places we might not have dared before.

Peter and the beloved disciple run straight into the tomb and discover the grave clothes and the veil of Jesus. They remembered what Jesus had said in that moment. Their hearts were stirred by the memory.

We have all entered the Easter story somewhere along the way.

The Easter story started at the beginning.

In the beginning was the Word.

The Word was with God.

The Word was God.

Our beginnings were with God at our birth,

at our baptism,

at our growing,

our awakening to the world.

Where in our story do we encounter the resurrected Jesus?

Where does the Easter story become our story?

At the beginning of the gospel (John 1:38) Jesus asks the disciples, ‘Who are you looking for?’ ‘Who are we looking for?’

Mary is so filled with grief as she looks in the tomb that she isn’t even awestruck by angels.

She is on the hunt for the body of her Lord.

She turns around and Jesus is standing there right in front her.

Jesus is there for her.

Jesus is fully present with her.

Jesus is alive and well and in her space.

And she doesn’t recognize him.

She is blinded by her despair; she cannot see the one she longs for.

Are we filled with grief and despair?

Are we unable to see Jesus standing there with us, in front of us, in our space?

Are we blinded by our grief, by our pain, by our expectation, by our longings that we cannot recognize our Lord fully present with us?

Friends, he is there.

He is here.

He’s asking us the same question he ask Mary? Who are you looking for?

And then in the same moment he calls Mary by name. He calls us by our name.

In that moment through the mist of our tears, we hear his voice.

We hear the familiar sound of love.

We hear the truth, the reality of being raised up,

lifted up from death to new life.

We can all jump for joy with her as she discovers the truth that her Lord is alive! He is risen indeed! And in her excitement she, like any of us would do, wants to go running and give him the biggest embrace, the hug larger than life-squish the stuffings out of him kind of hug.

I think that’s the hug we are all imaging that we can give each other when this isolation is over.

But, Jesus tells her, ‘touch me not’. Which the Greek word Hapto means don’t hold on to me. Don’t hang on, cling, or squish. It has the larger meaning of ‘do not manipulate, manage, or own, possess, or control.’ She cannot hold on to the Jesus of her making.

We too, can no longer hold on to the Jesus of our making.

He is here for us. He is right in front of us. He is with us. He is calling our name.

Let us let go of our hold on him and the way things ought to be and open up to the glory of the Resurrection. The joy is here friends let’s believe.

Because he lives. Let’s go announcing, “We have seen the Lord!” Amen!

Sermon by Reverend Monica Gould
Resources: Encounters with Jesus, Frances Taylor Gench