Brief synopsis of the readings (Easter, Mass Of The Day): During Easter Season we’ll be reading from the Acts of the Apostles. Here Peter speaks to Cornelius and his household. He witnesses to Jesus’ ministry, his execution, and his resurrection from the dead; also his appearance to them and his promise to forgive sins to all who believe. Matthew’s Gospel describes Mary Magdalene going to Jesus’ tomb before dawn and finding it empty. Thinking his body had been stolen she ran to Peter and “the other disciple.” They accompanied back to the tomb. When they looked in they saw the same thing. At that moment the recognized Jesus had risen from the dead.

I’ve been away from the priesthood long enough that I can probably get away with this: I always had mixed feelings about Holy Week. From Palm Sunday to Easter it seemed that nearly everyone I dealt with ran at an unsustainably high level of stress. What was supposed to be the most joyful week of the year turned into one that many of us couldn’t wait to end. I’ve witnessed panic attacks over whether or not we have enough palms, epic rehearsals that lasted hours, mix ups that were revealed only after the parishioner took vacation time from work to show up. One year Easter Vigil was the same weekend we moved the clocks ahead (and lost an hour of sleep); it was supposed to begin at 10PM and started at 10:30. Long after midnight the announcements at the end of mass seemed to go until dawn. You get the idea.

The worst of it is that every year we try to make Holy Week and Easter bigger and more spectacular than ever. More candles, more music, more processions, longer readings. And this doesn’t even take into account the months of liturgy meetings where the staff struggles to find the
“theme” for Easter (personally I’ve always favored the theme of Jesus’ resurrection). Somehow I don’t think this is what Jesus intended.

And it’s not because the events in today’s Gospel appear … almost anticlimactic. Mary Magdalene was the first to arrive and she didn’t find Jesus seated on a throne. She wasn’t surrounded by blinding light or hosts of angels. The skies didn’t open up and announce what happened. Instead she found emptiness. As a matter of fact she thought the worst: not only had Jesus been killed but someone had stolen his body. The realization of what happened came to them slowly. It’s as if you’ve spent all your time, energy and money planning a wedding and on the big day the wedding is a silent 30 seconds of exchanging rings and then it’s over.

What can we learn from this empty tomb? I think we can learn to embrace emptiness. I generally don’t like to bounce around Scripture looking for random verses that make my point but it is worth noting Paul in his letter to the Phillipians (2:6-7): “[Christ] did not deem equality with God something to be grasped at. Rather he emptied himself and took the form of a slave, being born in human likeness.”

Jesus didn’t rise from the dead to redeem only Kings, or the wealthy, or the popular. He was never a trickle down or supply side Redeemer. He was born to unmarried parents, spent time as a refugee, gathered his followers from among the poor and oppressed. He died a criminal and rose alone.

Lots of people will gather for mass this weekend. Most, frankly, will look like us and be on their best behavior. But on closer look, some will be there only out of guilt and their contempt will be obvious. Or their loyalty to loved ones outpaces their fearful or painful memories of church and they pray for the courage to stay. Others may not look right, or smell right, or know how to act.

And in that mix lies the salvation of all. Of. All.

Jesus’ resurrection would have been for naught if it didn’t change things, if indeed it didn’t change the course of world events. And the good news that it did. Peter, who didn’t come off well in the reading of the Passion last week, does much better in our first reading. He went from denying that he knew Jesus to proclaiming to all that Jesus rose from the dead. Indeed, he became the leader of the disciples and we see him today as the first Pope. I’m certain there were those who closed the book on Peter at Jesus’ trial and were not open to hear the rest of the story. Interesting that Peter ended that reading by talking about forgiveness of sins.

And it’s not enough to say that sins are forgiven. Our oversights, careless comments, and convenient lies are forgiven of course. But what about the person in the next row who you know is a drunk who left his family destitute? Or the person who organized a hostile stock takeover that destroyed your employer’s company. If you’ve never read John Grisham’s book Calico Jose I recommend it. He describes an angry baseball pitcher who purposely hit a promising young batter. The batter was struck in the head and suffered permanent brain injury, not only ending his career but making it impossible for him to earn a living. In the story, years later, the pitcher is dying and the pitcher’s son brings them together for a reconciliation that is incredibly well written.

This Easter season let’s shift our gaze a little. I don’t wish to ignore the hard work of liturgists, musicians, florists, etc. who make our celebration beautiful. But embracing the emptiness of the tomb also calls us to embrace those who reluctantly join us out of a well placed fear that we’ve already closed the book on them. Not just in church, but everywhere.