Trinity 5
The Empty Tomb Window
Bishop Ray Sutton

In our house, dad has a little refrain: “A place for everything and everything in its place.” It’s a simple organizational principle. Determine a place for everything. Then put everything in its special place. Nothing will ever be lost. At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work. In practice, even dad fell into violation the other day.

It was the early morning. Everyone was scurrying about getting ready for the day. Suddenly the dad alarm went off. Dad had lost his freshly poured cup of coffee. I looked in all the usual places where I leave cups of coffee. It couldn’t be found. I called for Susan to help me find it. I must admit in retrospect that I did sound a bit like the angry giant of Jack and the Beanstalk fame; he was the one who would call rather loudly for his wife when in need. I simply couldn’t believe that my cup of coffee had disappeared. I was sure someone had moved, or even worse, taken it. Then, I don’t know why, but my dutiful wife opened the door of the microwave. And there, basking in the reflecting white of the inside of that heating machine was my cup of coffee. I remembered at that point a critical piece of information. I like my coffee hot. I often put it in the microwave to warm it a bit. I had forgotten. All were shocked to find the coffee cup there. I was perhaps the most surprised that the small mug was not where it was supposed to be. After a bit of mumbling I ended up delighted as I found my coffee in a different but far better place.

On that first Easter morning the phenomenon of something being out of place yet in a better location occurred in much grander, cosmic and redemptive proportions. Jesus was not where He was supposed to be. As depicted in our stained glass window on the west wall of the side chapel, one of His closest followers converged on the Master’s burial site. She is a woman by the name of Mary, just like the mother of Jesus; she is Mary Magdalene. The scene appears in the Mary chapel of our Anglican parish. In ancient times the chapel and altar to the side of the main altar was devoted to Jesus’ mother, who like even the other ladies in Scripture with the same name all point to the place of standing at the side of Christ in obedience to Him. Mary Magdalene is one who reminds us of the same message as the life of Jesus’ own mother.
Our window portrays a scene that is not the first time Mary Magdalene has been at the tomb on Easter morning. She had come earlier with Mary the mother of James, and one Salome (Luke 23:55-24:1). They all arrived at the break of day to bring spices for embalming the precious body of their Master. Shocked at the sight of the missing Jesus, the Mary of our window ran to tell the disciples. After her associates had met an angel and left, Peter and John had arrived, looked in and evacuated the scene as well. Now Mary Magdalene has returned once again to the setting of what she thought was a horrible crime. According to the text of Scripture, she stood at the entry of the tomb weeping (John 20:11). Compelled for some reason, she stoops to look into the tomb. As our window depicts, she sees two angels, one at the head and the feet of where Jesus’ body had been laid. Remember, John’s Gospel describes the Incarnation in the image of the tabernacle or temple (John 1:14). The two angels at the head and feet of Jesus call to mind the Ark of the Covenant at the center of the temple where Christ was sacrificed. Christ is the place of sacrifice and true access to God the Father.

The angels asked Mary, “Woman, why are you weeping?” As she explains her concern for the missing body of Jesus, she turns around sensing the presence of someone behind her. It is Jesus but she doesn’t recognize Him. As our window portrays, He is dressed like a garden attendant. He too asks, “Woman, why are you weeping?” But then He adds something that should give it away to Mary. He questions further, “Whom are you seeking?” (20:15), giving away that He knows she is looking for someone. Mary brushes off the questions and begins instructing the man to tell her the location of the body of Christ. Then Christ says one word that gives it all away. He speaks her name, “Mary.”

At this point, the artist of our stained glass windows proves her genius with the way she paints Mary’s face. The expression is a combination of surprise in the midst of a tear turned to joy. It’s all of those emotions rolled into one. It’s the picture of a woman who had thought she lost the most precious thing in her life discovering she had not. Moreover, once found, her valued possession was in a better place than could have ever been imagined.

Jesus Christ works this way in our lives. He cannot be contained by four walls or an empty tomb. He is alive. He goes where He wants invading domains we wouldn’t expect. It’s always better than we can imagine. Often, He appears where we least expect Him. Gary Thomas told a remarkable story in the Christian Times (October 3, 1994, p. 26). “As [the then] Vice President, George Bush represented the U.S. at the funeral of former Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev, Bush was deeply moved by a silent protest carried out by Brezhnev's widow. She stood motionless by the coffin until seconds before it was closed. Then, just as the soldiers touched the lid, Brezhnev's wife performed an act of great courage and hope, a gesture that must surely rank as one of the most profound acts of civil disobedience ever committed: She reached down and made the sign of the cross on her husband's chest. There in the citadel of a secular, atheistic power, the wife of the man who had run it all hoped that her husband was wrong. She hoped that there was another life, and that that life was best represented by Jesus who died on the cross, and that the same Jesus might yet have mercy on her husband.” Jesus cannot be silenced or contained. He goes where He’s least expected. After all, according to St. John’s account of Him, He’s the new gardener, a second Adam, restoring and remaking humans into His own personal garden. When He mysteriously reveals himself to the likes of you and me, we become like Mary. We meet Jesus outside the tomb. You see, the real message of the window is that Jesus is outside the tomb, indeed, He’s in our chapel. As we enter, may we always find Him there just like Mary Magdalene at His side with sorrow-turned-to-joy. Amen.