EASTER SUNDAY OF THE RESURRECTON

[cappie]

This morning,  Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb and sees that the stone has been rolled away from it, she runs to Peter and John. Deciding that they need to see it for themselves, these two disciples run to the tomb and find it empty, just as Mary said they would. The linen wrappings are lying right there inside, but there is no body to be found.

One thing we might miss is that Mary Magdalene, Peter, and John each have a different reaction to the empty tomb.

John, the Gospel tells us, “saw and believed” as soon as he entered the tomb. Until this point, the disciples had not understood what had been told to them–that Jesus must rise from the dead. Apparently, this is when it clicks for John–right as it’s unfolding before his eyes.

As for Peter, the scripture isn’t as explicit. Maybe he gets it. Maybe he doesn’t. It would seem as though he has some more thinking to do. He and John both return home.

In search of a way to connect at a deeper level with prominent biblical figures, we want to determine which ones we are most similar to and why. This is the sort of thing we do when we ask ourselves, “Am I a Mary or a Martha?” upon hearing the familiar account of Jesus visiting the sisters’ home in Bethany.

There is nothing wrong with the desire to relate to a particular individual in this or any other biblical passage.  

Take for example the disciples we meet today. Are we not, each of us, some combination of John, Peter, and Mary Magdalene? It might depend on the season of our life, or our time and location along the path of our Christian journey.

We are John when we see something and believe it. We are John when the object of our heart’s desire dawns on us in real-time, when the realization of it causes all the puzzle pieces to fall right into place. We are John when we arrive on Easter morning without one shadow of a doubt that Jesus is risen.

There was a woman who, not too terribly long ago, sat alone by a hospital bed where her husband of 61 years lay dead. It had only been a few minutes since his passing when the chaplain walked in to see her, but before he could speak, she put her hands up quietly and gently shook her head. “I know where my husband is,” she said, sternly. “If you want to find somebody who needs convincing, you’ll have to go someplace else.”

We are John when we rest certain and secure in the bonds of our belief.

We are Peter when we are not quite as certain. Peter when it takes just a little longer to sort it all out.

The story is told of a young girl, maybe three or four years old, who went to church with her grandmother one Easter morning. On the way, her grandmother explained to her the story of Jesus’ resurrection, including his death on Good Friday. “Then, early on Sunday morning,” she said, “he came back to life!” The little girl stared up at her grandmother with a look teetering on the soft edge between innocence and confusion . . . “Yeah right!” she exclaimed.

Apparently, she needed a little bit more time to think it over.

 On Easter.you might well be able to run toward the empty tomb predisposed to belief even before you get a look at the evidence. Or you simply might need to take some time to sort out what’s happened and then come back later.

None of our possible responses changes the truth of the matter–that whoever you are, wherever you are, Jesus is right there by your side. You may not always perceive him. He is there, nonetheless. He is waiting to say your name, and–even when you least expect it–to remind you of the faith you have deep inside. That faith which can only have been instilled by the one through whom all things were made. That faith which is all that is necessary to go out and proclaim the One who lives.