Easter Sunday

In this Jubilee Year of Mercy, we are invited to look at things we know, and know well, that are familiar, even routine, and to see them in the light of mercy.  This year, then, we look at Easter in the light of mercy.  What do we see?  It surprises.

On the first Easter, the women approached the tomb and they were not expecting to see the rock rolled away.  Even when they found that the tomb was empty, they assumed someone had taken the body, and they wished to find it so that they could do what they had expected to do, care for the dead body.

But God surprised them.  And us.  He did not stay in the tomb.  He did not dwell for long among the dead.  What was expected turned out not to be the case.  How often do we let our expectations rob us of the hope we are called to hold in our hearts?

Yet we can hardly be blamed if our response is more like that of Mary Magdalene and the apostles who visit the empty tomb for the first time, as recounted in the gospel reading.  Mary thinks the obvious: Jesus can’t be raised, someone must have taken his body – and runs off to find others who can help her find the body.

Her response is not so far from many of our own answers: we’re practical people, looking for the obvious answers, looking for the pragmatic solutions.  We are very fond of saying, “That’s too idealistic.  That’s not realistic.  That’s not practical.  That won’t really help all those numbers of people.”

The disciple who arrives at the tomb first sees the evidence of the burial cloths but can’t even venture into the tomb to verify for himself.  He remains outside looking in, not sure of how to respond.  This, too, is very much like us: how many of us, when faced with racism or high rates of poverty or the carnage in the Middle East and Europe, or the political fights that are particularly heightened in this election year – find ourselves wondering, “What can I do?”

Peter actually walks into the tomb – but in this scripture, even he is not sure how to respond.  They don’t yet remember, or know, about Jesus rising from the dead.  We see Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, where he asks a particular response of us: to be new yeast – yeast of sincerity and truth, rather than the old yeast of malice.  Christ rising from the dead makes a difference in how we think and act and live.

Jesus told us that the Kingdom of God was like yeast mixed in with flour – something so small that we can barely see it once it is mixed in with flour – causes that flour to rise far beyond what we might have first imagined.  On this Easter, we are asked to imagine otherwise – we are asked to put aside pragmatism, realism, and despair and rise with Christ.  We are asked to respond to Jesus by remembering that small and insignificant things really do make a difference if we will allow ourselves to see and participate.

Pope Francis said of the Paschal Triduum: “It is all one great mystery of love and mercy: our words are poor and insufficient to express it fully.”  How true.  There is something inside my heart this morning as we celebrate Easter, something bigger than any words I can find.  It is inexpressible.  It is overwhelming.  It is God’s mercy breaking into the world.

Paul A. Magnano

Pastor