A Pot Full of Dirt: An Easter Sunday Sermon

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZYHwIlNYFFs

The Gospel Reading John 20:1-18

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' 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. 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 hold on to 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.

Sermon: The Rev. Dr. Maryann Amor

A few weeks ago at our Youth Group gathering, the kids decorated flower pots...they came up with their own designs, painted them, then added dirt and planted seeds.

On the screen is Zooey’s project, and as you can see, there is a little sprout pushing up through the soil. And here—this one belongs to Melanie.

Melanie and her family are in Nigeria right now, and before she left, she brought this to the church and asked me to look after it for her—to keep it watered and in some sunlight.

Now, the minute I saw that Zooey’s plant had sprouted, I quickly went to check Melanie’s. And I was extremely disappointed.

Nothing. No green. No sign of life. Just a pot of dirt.

My first thought was that maybe I could dig up the seed and see if anything was happening—but of course, if I do that, I risk killing it. So really, I only have two choices: I either dig up the seed and try to find out what’s going on…or I wait and hope that, at some point, something might appear.

And I realized—I’m in that strange place where I simply don’t know.

As long as the seed is buried, it might be alive… or it might be dead. It’s all very Schrödinger’s cat. I have to decide whether I trust what I cannot yet see, or whether I need to have a look for myself.

And looking at these two pots, which contain the soil from the same bag, the same kind of seed—one bursting with life and the other showing nothing at all—I realized that, in a way, they speak to us about Easter.

When Jesus was crucified and laid in the tomb, those who loved him—his friends, his family, his followers— were in shock. Grief. Fear. Confusion. Sadness.

They had heard him say things—strange, mysterious things—about dying and rising again. But they didn’t understand. How could they? None of it made any sense. It went against everything they knew to be true—if you are dead, you are dead. That’s it.

So with Jesus crucified, as far as they could tell, it was all over.

And so they did what anyone does in the face of death: they laid him in the tomb, sealed it, and walked away. And then, they just waited.

Now, they were not waiting with hope. At that point, they didn’t have anything to hope for. They were waiting because there was nothing else to do. They had no direction, no idea what came next. They were in an uncertain, in-between, liminal space.

A space that feels a lot like staring at a pot full of dirt and wondering: if anything is happening beneath the surface? Is there life… or is nothing going on?

And it is that space—between burial and resurrection, between pot of dirt and sprouting plant—that many of us know so well.

Because if we’re honest with ourselves, much of life feels more like Melanie’s pot than Zooey’s.

Much of life is silent. It can feel lifeless. Full of grief, uncertainty, unanswered prayers, loss of hope, joy, or direction.

We all know those times when we look at our lives and wonder if anything is growing at all?

And in those moments, we have a few option: Do we dig it all up to check, and hope we don’t kill anything? Do we give up, decide nothing is happening, and walk away? Or do we wait?

Do we choose to trust that beneath the surface—hidden, unseen—something is happening?

The women who went to the tomb on Easter morning were not going to find life. They were not going to check for a sprout. They were going to mourn someone they loved. They were going because, as far as they knew, death had done what death always does.

But when they arrived, everything had changed.

The stone was rolled away. The tomb was empty. And somehow, what they thought was finished… was not finished at all. Jesus was alive.

And in that moment, they began to understand that what looked like an ending had been something else. That even in the darkness of the tomb, even in the silence, even when no one could see it—God had been at work and life was sprouting up.

Maybe this is the message of Easter for us today. Not that we will always see growth right away. Not that life suddenly becomes easy or certain. But that even when all we can see is a pot of dirt…even when everything feels buried, silent, dead, and still…God is still at work.

Because the truth of Easter is this: Nothing is so dead that it is beyond God’s love.

And those moments when it looks like everything is ending— that is so often the very place where God is beginning something new, bringing life. So when your life feels like Melanie’s pot— when see nothing, no movement, no sign of life—you don’t have to dig it all up in despair. Instead, you can wait. You can trust.

Because beneath the surface, something is stirring. Something is growing. And in God’s time… life will break through. Amen.

In writing this sermon I thought of a classic Easter hymn that really fits, so to reflect on the sermon I invite you to stand as you are able to sing Now the Green Blade Rises.