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’s 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.
John 20:1-18
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 touch 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.
My sermon from Easter Sunday (April 5, 2026) on John 20:1-18.
So it’s the time of year when I begin and end every day wondering when I’ll deal with my yard. The long, cold, and stormy winter left branches and broken squirrel nests at the foot of every tree. Bulbs my wife planted have started blooming, adding a little color next to all the dead piles of lives. And while I know many of you are masters when it comes to yards and gardening, not everyone has the time, resources, or skills to make life grow. We all, I think, enjoy all the flowering trees even if we have to take every allergy pill we can find. Yet we also recognize how this season is fed by the decay and shadow that came before. Gardens are a place where life and death exist together since old plants and compost supply the nutrients that allow the next generation to grow. This cycle of life to death to life builds the future where all kinds of colors bloom. And so it’s fitting, I think, that when Mary Magdalene came to the tomb – it was in a garden where the story continues.
Now today’s reading from the gospel according to John began in a rather strange way. We get to watch one of Jesus’ disciples wander through the city of Jerusalem before dawn but we’re not told why they’re out and about. Unlike the other gospels, John doesn’t give us a specific reason why anyone went out their front door. Mary Magdalene was introduced just one chapter before as a witness to the crucifixion. We have no idea how long, according to John, she followed Jesus or if she ever heard his description of what would happen next. It’s possible someone – or something – told her to go out outdoors. But her movement through the city’s gate might have also been a little bit like muscle memory while she tried making sense of what happened on the Cross. As she walked, I imagine she felt lost, cloudy, and in a daze. Yet when she neared the tomb, an unexpected sight broke through her mental fog. The closed door that served as a fitting capstone to the hopes and dreams she once had – was now fully open. Mary wasn’t quite sure what to do with this new information so she ran, looking for anything that could give this strange thing some meaning. She eventually found two other disciples who might have been hiding in Jerusalem, on their own way to the tomb, or maybe preparing to leave for Galilee. Mary, full of anxiety, worry, grief, and fear, invited them to “come and see.” And when they arrived at the garden and peered inside, we’re not 100% sure what they did next. It’s possible they told Mary what they saw but she might have been too overwhelmed to hear what they said. Within her swirled everything that comes when we’re faced with what life brings. And even the presence of angels couldn’t stop her from weeping. Yet when the divine asked her what she was experiencing, she had the courage, strength, and faith to name what she was feeling out loud. And when she did, she turned from the tomb and towards the life she didn’t know was already there.
When we imagine gardens in our Bible, it’s not hard to immediately picture the one that’s there at the very beginning. In the hymn that makes up the opening chapters of the book of Genesis, the first place we call home is the garden of Eden. It’s a place full of lush vegetation, friendly animals, abundant food, and where even God strolls under the trees. When we look at gardens, we tend to focus on the finished product since we assume they’re a mini-paradise where peace, comfort, and satisfaction refreshes our soul. A garden is where life as we want it to be is enfleshed in the vibrant colors of our hopes and dreams. Yet gardens in the Bible are also places where temptation, conflict, doubt, and fear are always lived out. It isn’t long before even the garden of Eden becomes a place where sin and death enter our songs. And when Jesus, in anguish, asked for his future through the Cross to be changed, he prayed in the garden of Gethsemane while his disciples fell asleep. Gardens are not only places where sweet smells, green stems, and well manicured beds reflect what life should be. Gardens are also where every part of life is embraced, recognized, and made holy. The dirty fingernails, calloused hands, thorn riddled forearms, and battles with groundhogs are not a sign our garden has failed. Rather, it’s a reminder of the kind of living that makes it a garden in the first place. That might be why when Mary saw life in front of her, her first instinct was to call Jesus the gardener. If anyone would be moving bodies early in the morning, it’s reasonable to suspect those who tend to life and death and life might be involved. None of the other disciples or even the angels had challenged her anxiety, fear, or worry by telling her what God had done. Instead, she was invited to discover this new chapter for herself and for the world. She assumed grief and sorrow would shape her future to come. And while Jesus doesn’t ignore or dismiss the fullness of what life always brings, he – by saying her name – affirms the Easter promise is her promise too.
Gardens are always meant to be more than a sea of lush vegetables, vibrants bushes, and colors that outshine every rainbow. Gardens are more than a refuge from the world. Gardens are places where the life we live and the promises God keeps become tangible and real. A garden is where the cycle of life is nurtured by a divine hand that chooses to get dirty when we act as if kindness and hope have no place in our lives. Gardens, in the words of Matěj Čadil, are “a symbol of good, of growth and renewal that counteract the inexorable decay of the world.” Gardens “remind us that renewal is [often] slow [and] humble work,” requiring hands that do not give up. And while we have a habit of taking hands of love and nailing them to a Cross, God doesn’t let our choices be the only thing that shapes what tomorrow will bring. Holding onto the fullness of what life is and the cycle of life to death to life again is a holy work we are all invited into because – in baptism and through faith – your name is already on Jesus’ lips too. The Easter promise given to Mary is the same promise God gives to you. And if God can take the decay we perpetuate in the world and transform it into something new, we can join in with compassion and mercy so others know their names are in God’s mouth too. The gardens we grow will never be perfect and we’ll try our best to hide all struggle, frustration, failures, disappointments, and mistakes it took to make it green, yet when we partner up with Jesus by tending to our families, friends, neighbors, and even enemies with a life-giving love – our life and our world begins to bloom.
Amen.