We have arrived at Easter after having followed Jesus through the last days of his life. Last Sunday we joyfully waved our palm branches to welcome him as he entered Jerusalem. We then followed him through the last three days: he welcomed us in the upper room with a yearning desire for friendship so great that he lowered himself to wash our feet and give himself as bread that is �broken� and blood that is �shed.� Then he wanted us to be with him in the Garden of Olives when sadness and anguish oppressed his heart so much that he sweated blood. His need for friendship, then more pressing than ever, was not understood; his three closest friends first fell asleep and then abandoned him like everyone else. The next day we find him on the cross, alone and naked. The guards had stripped him of his tunic; in reality he had already stripped himself of life. He had truly given all of himself for our salvation. The Sabbath was sad, an empty day for us, too. Jesus was on the other side of the heavy stone. And yet even while lifeless he continued to give his life by �descending into hell,� that is, to the lowest possible point. He wanted to carry his solidarity with humanity to its furthest limit, all the way to Adam, as the Eastern tradition reminds us.
The Gospel of Easter begins at this furthest point, in the darkness of night. The evangelist John writes that �it was still dark� when Mary Magdalene came to the tomb. It was dark outside, but it was even darker in Mary�s heart (and in the hearts of all those who loved the prophet who �had done everything well.�) It was dark because she had lost the one person who had understood her: not only had he told her what was in her heart, but more importantly he had freed her from what oppressed her more than everything else. With a sad heart Mary came to the tomb. Perhaps she was thinking about the last few days before the Passion, when she dried Jesus� feet after have anointed them with precious perfume, and the years, few but intense, that she had lived with the prophet. Jesus� friendship is always engaging; we might say that it is impossible to follow him from a distance as Peter did over the last few days. The moment comes to settle the accounts and to choose a definitive relationship. Jesus� friendship is a friendship that leads people to think of other people before themselves, as Jesus himself said, �No one has a greater love than this, to lay down one�s life for one�s friends.� Mary Magdalene experienced this personally that early morning, while it was still dark. Her friend died because he had loved her and all the disciples, including Judas.
As soon as she reaches the tomb she sees that the stone that covered the entrance � a slab as heavy as death and loss always are � has been rolled away. She does not even go in. She immediately runs to Peter and John and cries out breathlessly, �They have taken the Lord out of the tomb.� People do not even want him dead, she thinks, and adds sadly, �We do not know where they have laid him.� Mary�s sadness at the loss of the Lord, even if it is just his dead body, is a slap at our coldness and our forgetfulness of the living Jesus. Today this woman is a great example for all believers, for each one of us. The risen Lord can only be encountered by those who have her feelings in their hearts. It was her and her desperation that moved Peter and the disciples whom Jesus� loved. They immediately ran to the empty tomb. After having begun to follow the Lord together during his Passion, even if from afar, they now find themselves �running together� not to be far from him. Their running well expresses the eagerness of every disciple - of every community, I would say � that searches for the Lord.
Perhaps we also need to learn to run again. Our going has become too slow, perhaps because we are weighed down by our fear of slipping and losing something of ourselves, or because we easily fall prey to the laziness of a sad realism that no longer hopes for anything, and to resignation to the seemingly unstoppable forces of war and violence. We need to try to run again; we need to leave behind the closed doors of the upper room and run towards the Lord. Yes, Easter is also about hurrying. The disciple Jesus loved reached the tomb first: love makes us run faster. But Peter�s slower pace also got him to the threshold of the tomb, and they both went in. Peter went in first, and he saw that everything was in perfect order: the linen wrappings were lying in their place, emptied of Jesus� body, and the cloth that had been on Jesus� head was �rolled up in a place by itself.� There had been neither violation nor theft: it was as if Jesus had freed himself. No one had to undo his wrappings as they did for Lazarus. The wrappings were there, empty. The other disciple came in and �saw� the same scene. �He saw and believed,� the Gospel notes. The two disciples found themselves in front of the signs of the resurrection, and they let their hearts be touched.
�As yet� the evangelist writes, �they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead.� The is often the story of our lives, lives with no resurrection or Easter, resigned in the face of the pain of humanity, and closed in the sadness of our resignation. Easter has come, the heavy stone has been rolled away, and the tomb has been opened. The Lord has defeated death and lives forever. We can longer stay closed, as if the Gospel of the resurrection had never been communicated to us. The Gospel is resurrection and rebirth to new life. And it needs to be shouted from the roof tops and communicated to people�s hearts.
This Easter cannot pass in vain; it cannot be an unchanging rite that we grow tired of repeating every year. It needs to change the heart and life of every disciple, of every Christian community, and of the entire world. And this means throwing open the doors to the Risen one who is coming among us, as we will read over the next few days in the accounts of his appearances to the disciples. Jesus places the breath of resurrection in the heart of every man and woman and infuses them with the energy of peace and the power of the Spirit that renews all things. The apostle writes, �For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God.� (Col 3:3). Our life is tied up with the risen Jesus and given a share in his victory over death and evil. And the whole world, with all of its pain and expectations, will enter into our hearts alongside the risen one. The world of this new millennium will enter into our hearts, a world wounded by war and violence but also full of a deep yearning for peace. We could say that this wounded world is present in Jesus� own body, in the sores that are still present on his body. He shows us these wounds just as he showed them to the disciples, so that we can work with him in creating a new heaven and a new earth, where there will no longer be mourning nor tears, nor death nor sadness, because God will be all in all.
