I then think about any contemporary conversation I might have, and how someone would similarly speak my name, as Jesus did with Mary in the garden. Unlike Mary however, I imagine my name being spoken by someone I know, or at least, think I know, and have initially recognized. With friendliness, I imagine how I might feign surprise as the other person shares what’s new in world events, but it’s often the case where I too, have already heard the news, given the wired, constantly connected nature of things. In this, small talk, based upon frequent experience, describing, and sharing in issues as any situation might imply, no matter how dramatically expressed, seems ordinary.
Still, has my capacity for surprise been exhausted? For example, maybe I don’t know the person I’m talking with as well as I think I do, or whether that person truly knows me. “Are they harboring some deep secret that I know nothing about?” Humm. Very likely could be. After all, are we not well attuned to ferreting out conspiracy, nefarious intent? It’s human nature, after all. But the surprise at Easter is not that Mary finds something that reinforces the negative… rather positive.
Although her tears were real, emotionally, dramatically expressed,
and it also appears like this moment could be primarily processed
as a simple, understandable, engaging, ordinary conversation,
isn’t there something promising, reassuring, found in this brief interaction?
To recognize a new outlook, plan of action
…like a guidebook of eternal satisfaction,
a deep mystery concealed,
was uncovered and revealed.
It dawned with Mary’s name being spoken, said.
The secret is…
Jesus risen from the dead.
Rev. Richard Wagnetr