Quite recently my eldest brother very nearly died. He is very much not a Christian. In fact he’s very much opposed to all religion, but especially to Christianity. I told him that, although I know he doesn’t believe, nevertheless I’m praying for him. He responded that this is fine by him. He thinks private prayer is quite harmless. “If you wish to devote your life to an invented fantasy” he said, “who am I to object?”
Today, above all other days, we proclaim to the whole world that Christ’s resurrection from the dead is not an invented fantasy, but the truth. All other truth is relative to this one: human life and human death; the mystery of iniquity, of injustice and of suffering; the mystery of existence itself. We urge everyone to devote their lives to this truth, as we ourselves have done, because it sets us free. From this truth, from this reality, above all from this event, there flows for us life in abundance, and hope, and joy, and meaning, and purpose, and fruitfulness, and love, and wholeness, and sanity, and holiness, and communion with one another, and communion with God, and access to God’s eternal Kingdom.
This is our faith. We receive this faith as a gift from God. We exercise it as a virtue. The content of this faith we do not invent, but humbly accept from the holy Catholic Church. Today, of all days, we proclaim, without fear or shame, that Jesus Christ is Lord; that he has won the victory; that he lives for ever, and that this is definitive good news for all of humanity. Jesus died for our sins, and rose again for our justification. We believe this because of the testimony of witnesses. We find that their testimony is credible. But to accept it as true is never just a cool judgement based on evidence. It is always also a moral decision, and a willed surrender to something which must change one’s life forever. Having made that judgement, and taken that decision, we continually encounter multiple confirming testimonies: testimonies of the Saints; of those who know; of those who beyond all others are trustworthy. Today, especially, we want to add our own testimony, the testimony borne from experience and from utter conviction: that it is true. Christ is truly risen from the dead! We believe this; we know it; we proclaim it; we base our lives upon it. And therefore we rightly exult, and are glad.
In today’s Gospel according to St. John, very remarkably, no appearance of the risen Lord is mentioned. There is only his absence; his empty tomb.
There are three actors in this story. The first one is St. Mary Magdalene. She is the image of the forgiven sinner: the one who loved much because she was forgiven much. Mary Magdalene loved Jesus with total fidelity and courage. She stood there by his Cross to the end, and she even remained at the tomb when all others had gone. Yet her love still needed to be purified. It was still all too natural; too bound to this world; not yet full enough of faith and of hope.
There’s a delicious irony in her words to the Apostles. They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, she says. But we know that they haven’t - whoever “they” are! She continues: And we don’t know where they’ve put him!
Of course you don’t know where they’ve put him, because they haven’t put him anywhere! He has stepped out, of his own accord, into his Father’s glory. We don’t know - she says; she, who is the first herald of the Resurrection; the Apostle of the Apostles. Yet, in a few minutes, she will know, and the whole Church will know, and you and I will know, with absolute certainty, where Jesus is. Not in the power of anyone! Not in the tomb! Not in death! But also: not absent from us, not absent from his Church, not absent from his world, but always with us, pouring out life and salvation, until we come to meet him at last face to face.
Then, after Mary Magdalene, come St. Peter, and St. John. St. Peter, the Prince of the Apostles, on whom Christ would build his Church; but also Peter who three times on Thursday night denied him.
Mary ran to Peter, and Peter ran to the tomb.
People in despair, people engulfed in overwhelming sadness don’t run. Mary, and Peter, and John as yet all still lacked the full Easter faith. Yet all also clearly had a certain sense, an instinct, that something astonishing, something utterly significant was here; perhaps, if they dared think it, something wildly exciting, even something in line with what their beloved Master had so often said would happen, though they had always found that so hard to comprehend.
So they ran. John got there first, though he deferred to Peter. Peter had to be the first to enter, because he was the one, beyond all others, deputed to proclaim Jesus as Son of God, and Jesus risen from the dead. Then John, the beloved disciple, never once named in this Gospel. John represents every disciple, and so he represents each one of us; but also he represents the whole Church. He too was there, in fidelity and love, at the Cross, and to him Jesus gave Mary to be his Mother.
John saw, and he believed. And now he bears witness to us through his Gospel: so that although we do not see, we also might believe, and so have life, in the name of Jesus Christ our Lord.