Mary Magdalene on Easter

What a strange, memorable Easter this will be.  For some families, this will be the first time ever they didn’t go to church on Easter.  For many families, this will be the first time ever they didn’t have family over for a big meal.  For some families, it will be heart-wrenching to not see their grandkids, to not have an egg hunt, to not have a family picture made.  And for many people, it will be heart-wrenching to not see their parents, especially if the parent is alone.  

I’m sorry it will be this way.  I’m sorry for anyone who has to be alone.  And I’m sorry a lot of churches can’t do the big celebratory, pageant kind of Easter they usually do.  But God redeems everything, and I know there’s good in all this.

One good that can come of this is that a lot of people will rethink Easter.  And we should do this.  Anytime you have a ritual or tradition, especially a religious one, it so easily becomes rote.  The original impetus for that ritual gets lost in layers of added tradition.  So then one day you have a spring holiday full of rabbits and eggs and chicks and candy and frilly frocks and a big church hoo-ha.  And some people never stop to think about where it all came from and why it exists.  

Think about the first Easter, which wasn’t Easter, it was just the resurrection day of Jesus.  It’s a good spiritual exercise to just think about what it was like for those people when they realized Jesus was not dead anymore.  He was alive!  I wrote this dramatic reading from the perspective of one of those people telling what it was like for Mary Magdalene.  

Those great gut-wrenching sobs coming out of Mary Magdalene

Wrenched our hearts as we sobbed with her.

We all shared the same grief, but Mary had more to lose.

We had all lost our Heart, our Soul, our Love, our Leader, our Light.

And our Hope.  It had drained out of us as we watched the 

Life drain out of Jesus.  

But Mary had been delivered from seven demons.

Jesus had cast them out, 

Or had he?

Had it all been a sham?

Maybe it had all been in her head

and now those tormenting demons were laughing at her, 

mocking her for her belief in some god who could cast them out?

Or maybe Jesus had cast them out, and her freedom had been real,

but now that he was dead, he had no power over them.

Her heart tore open with the desperate gnawing fear

that they were returning.  

Were they quivering and whirling at the edge of her

brain right now, 

delirious with excitement that they could occupy her again,

shackle her soul and control their favorite pawn?

She would rather die.  We knew she would.

The freedom had been so precious.

How could she go back to their oppression,

the terrible torture?

It was an unbearable thought,

gripping her throat and squeezing her stomach

until she thought she couldn’t breathe.  

She was crying so hard, doubled over and gasping, 

that she didn’t even see him at first.  

Then he said, “Mary.”

He said, “Mary.”

He said her name!