How can I keep from singing! On this Easter Sunday we gather in celebration, we gather in happiness, we gather in triumph. Jesus, the one who was battered and bruised, who was tortured and tormented, who was crushed and crucified has been raised from the dead. Jesus, our Risen Lord, has conquered all enemies, even death itself. How can we keep from singing when Jesus has given us something worth more than a world series ring, an all-expenses paid vacation or the winning ticket to the lottery. Easter faith assures us that in Jesus we have the riches of heaven, the joy of the saints, the eternity of the angels. How can we keep from singing when we know that no matter what the devil dishes out to us, the Risen Jesus throws it back in his face. We are given that blessed assurance on Easter that all will be well, all manner of things will be well. Alleluia is our song. Maybe that is why it seems a bit curious that the gospel chosen for this Sunday begins on a somewhat ominous note. Mary Magdalene went to look for Jesus, according to St. John’s gospel “while it was still dark.” But in reality, isn’t that when we go looking for Jesus as well. Certainly we who have become partakers in the Easter story by going through the waters of baptism haven’t found that everything is suddenly bright and sunny. We look for the Risen Jesus while in the darkness that can cloud our vision in coping with problems in the family. We look for the Risen Jesus frightened in the darkness occasioned by a health crisis. We look for the Risen Jesus while feeling our way through the darkness caused by the death of a loved one. We look for the Risen Jesus while stumbling in the dark in a city beset by violence. The Risen Jesus doesn’t appear to us when everything is coming up roses. Like Mary Magdalene, we will only find the Risen Jesus by searching for him in the darkness that too often plagues our existence. Our Easter celebration, to be truly filled with joy, must imitate Mary Magdalene in moving through the darkness into the light of faith.
There was a reason Mary Magdalene was stumbling around in the dark on that first Easter morning. She limited her seeking to the reality of this world instead of imagining the possibility of God’s world. She thought she was looking for the dead Jesus. She should have been looking for the Risen Lord. Peter too. When Simon Peter went looking, he saw an empty tomb with neatly rolled up burial clothes. Very matter of fact. He should have been looking for the Savior robed in glory. According to St. John, it was only the other disciple who, because he was looking for more, saw more than the accouterments of death and because of that, “He saw and believed.” Since he was the disciple whom Jesus loved he could overlook the obvious and see the mystery. It was love that enabled the disciple to see through the darkness of death into the light of life in Jesus. Our Easter faith must be characterized by that same love. St. John doesn’t supply a name for that beloved disciple because he want us to insert our own names into the scene. If we go looking for the wrong things — things limited to this world only — we’ll never find our heart’s desire. If we go looking as disciples who know, who feel, who trust, who understand, who realize, who accept that Jesus loves us, that we are beloved disciples, then we too will see and believe. We will see a beautiful world given us by a bounteous creator. We will believe that the God who flung the stars against the night sky and created the hedgehogs and hippos, the giraffes and the gerbils can take care of the likes of us. We will see ourselves as precious in the sight of God. We will believe that we are made in the divine image with an eternal destiny. We will see the other people woven into our lives as gifts of grace. We will believe that they are children of God capable of going beyond their limits to become who God made them to be. When we go looking with loving eyes we see things as the Risen Jesus sees them.
However, this Easter morning, for all the festive celebration, is not the occasion of unrestrained joy. Yes, Jesus is risen. Yes, death has been conquered. Yes, heaven awaits us. But we still haven’t quite climbed over the rough side of the mountain. We still have to get through the difficult chapters in the story of our own lives before coming to the glorious conclusion at the end of the story with Jesus. Maybe that is why St. John appends the thought: “They did not yet understand.” Did you notice how he put it: They saw and believed – but they did not yet understand. Isn’t that our situation? We see and believe in God’s power but do not yet understand why there should be wars and guns and violence. We see and believe in God’s wisdom but do not yet understand why the richest nation on earth can’t figure out a way to feed the hungry and house the homeless and care for the immigrant. We see and believe in God’s healing but we do not yet understand why cancer and HIV and strokes and heart attacks are so prevalent. We see and believe in God’s goodness but we do not yet understand why people who are supposed to love each other just can’t seem to get along. On this Easter morning, on this day when the Risen Lord is held up before us as the conqueror, on this day when Jesus shares divine life with all those who have been through the waters of baptism there are some things we do understand. We do understand that the God who has brought us to it is the God who will see us through it. We do understand that there will always be a better way for those who take time to pray. We do understand that no matter how great the trouble or strife, with Jesus there is kindness and mercy and life. We do understand that when we seek the things that are from above, our God will bless us with the Spirit of Love. The Risen Jesus says life is worth living. The Risen Jesus is the gift that keeps giving. To the Risen Jesus our hearts we are bringing. In the Risen Jesus our feet are set winging. To the Risen Jesus our souls are a-clinging. With the Risen Jesus the whole world is ringing. How can I keep from singing! AMEN!