Scripture Reflection for Easter Sunday
Acts 10:34, 37-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 16-17, 22-23
Colossians 3:1-4 or 1 Corinthians 5:6-8
John 20:1-9
“We are witnesses,” said Peter.
He was preaching to a bunch of Gentiles, telling them about Jesus. He was telling them that Jesus was meant for them too, that his death and resurrection was meant for them, that it could change their lives. It was a moment of witness and the Holy Spirit, a moment of baptism and forgiveness (Acts 10:1-48).
A moment turned into a movement; in time it would change the world. Soon the grace Peter was talking about would spread, eventually come our way. The kingdom of God in Christ preached and in sacraments celebrated, what Easter would do with the world it is still doing.
I mean, on Sunday we celebrate Easter, but the truth is that ever since that first Sunday morning two millennia ago, it has always been Easter.
That is, what happened in the tomb, that death was trampled by the risen Christ, is still happening. “O death where is your sting?” was St. Paul’s taunt (1 Corinthians 15:55). We believers may deride death just as easily he did. It’s just that to do so we must remember the deeper truth of Easter, that it’s not just a day but every day.
That is, we must renew, or maybe realize for the first time, that since we believe in the risen Lord, and since we are baptized into Christ and live in him, now his risen life is ours. Easter now is our measure.
“Think of what is above,” St. Paul wrote, “not of what is on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God” (Colossians 3:2-3).
Look up! That’s what Saint Paul means. Look beyond death and the fear that comes with it! Think of Christ at the right hand of the Father, think of your place there! That’s the hope, the joy, the courage Saint Paul wants us to have. An eternal perspective, an Easter perspective, knowing in hope our destiny in Christ, knowing in hope our eternity, call it the wisdom of Easter.
That’s what I mean by saying it’s still Easter, that it’s always Easter. Because Christ still lives and still calls us to live in him. “Therefore, let us celebrate the feast” (1 Corinthians 5:8).
And so, yes, everything has changed. That’s what we’re to learn along with St. Mary Magdalene. There, still in the darkness, she doesn’t yet grasp the meaning. The tomb is empty, but she doesn’t understand.
The whole universe has changed, but she doesn’t yet see it. For her the world is still dark and brutal and violent. She will still have tears in her eyes when she first sees the angels; she will not immediately recognize Jesus because of her tears. She is in the presence of all that is new, in the presence of the kingdom and its Christ, but she just doesn’t yet perceive. Only when he speaks her name will she begin to see (John 20:1-18).
By the way, there is a profound spiritual lesson in this for you and me, and that is, we should listen for our names. For he is still speaking to those who seek him.
But again, all I’m saying is that it’s still very much Easter. “Practice resurrection,” wrote that poet-farmer, Wendell Berry. I guess I’m simply suggesting the same.
That Christ rose from the dead, that he sits now at the right hand of the Father, that God in Christ reigns above all, and that this same Christ is also alive in us, what all of this means is that now we may live in the truth that our deaths will not end in death but instead in resurrection. Thus, further, what it means is that we now may live for God as his fearless instruments and as agents of a love which the world cannot conquer.
But first you may need to linger around the tomb, tears in your eyes. That’s okay. Again, St. Mary Magdalene teaches us. Living a spiritual life does not mean that we will never experience darkness, that there will never be any cause for tears. I mean, everything has changed, but the world is what the world is; the final judgment is yet to come.
But again: the love, the voice. That’s how Easter reaches even into the darkness, if we love Jesus like she did and if we seek and listen just like she did. And here we come to see what it’s like to hope in a dark world, to still believe in an Easter still happening.
Father Joshua J. Whitfield is pastor of St. Rita Catholic Community in Dallas and author of “The Crisis of Bad Preaching” (Ave Maria Press) and other books.
