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Greetings, SBT Readers:
I am writing this Easter issue on Good Friday, shortly before heading to the afternoon liturgy when the focus will be on the Passion and Death of Jesus; soon, my attention will shift from Easter to Good Friday again, from unrestrained joy to solemnity-- and then, with tomorrow's Vigil, the focus will return to joy once more. Interestingly enough, the transitions don't feel jarring, perhaps because the Paschal Mystery is woven throughout the Triduum, just as it is in our own lives and in the life of the world. Light and darkness, joy and grief, awe and disbelief, the best and the worst-- all co-exist in our hearts and on the world's stage. At one moment, we are celebrating and, at the next, the unexpected happens, shattering our peace.
Looking out at the idyllic woods behind my home, I marvel at the play of sunlight on last fall's leaves and the shadows cast by towering oaks, still bare-branched but ready for the greening power of spring. Then my reveries are shattered. Along come the kids on motorized dirt bikes -- without silencers, of course-- tearing through the woods, churning up the earth and spewing fumes across the fence, into our garden where native plants await monarch butterflies, bees and other pollinators...
Yes, there is life and there is death, new growth and decay, silence and noise, peace and disturbance, calm and frustration-- and everything has its place in the Peaceable Kingdom.
Happy Easter!
Elizabeth
SCRIPTURE REFLECTION
Easter Sunday
Early in the morning, on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary of Magdala came to the tomb
and saw the stone had been removed from the entrance.
So she ran to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them,
“They have taken the Lord from the tomb,
and we don’t know where they put him.”
So Peter and the other disciple went to the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter and, arriving at the tomb first, he bent down and saw the burial cloths there, but did not go in. When Simon Peter arrived, he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there; the cloth that had covered Jesus' head was not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. Then the other disciple--the one who had arrived at the tomb first-- also went in, and he saw and believed. For they did not yet understand the Scripture that he had to rise from the dead.
Jn 20:1-9
Sometimes, I am perplexed by the lectionary and by the seemingly arbitrary decisons regarding when a text should begin or end or what lines should be left out in the middle. The key line that this Easter narrative omits is Jn 20:10: "Then the disciples returned home." This is a crucial line that forms a bridge between the empty tomb and Mary of Magdala's proclamation of the Resurrection-- the real Easter Gospel. The Gospel proclaimed on Easter Sunday begins with Mary of Magdala's assumption that someone has stolen Jesus' body; John doesn't mention Peter's reaction to the empty tomb and while the other disciple "saw and believed," there is no indication that Mary of Magdala and Peter shared his perspective. Moreover, the very next line informs us that neither Peter nor this unnamed disciple understood the biblical prophecies regarding the Resurrection. This means that the Easter Gospel proclaimed in Christian churches across the globe ends with the disciples still not comprehending the meaning of the empty tomb.
"Then the disciples returned home." This next line is heavy with sadness and hopelessness; there is neither mention of "Good News" nor of joy; moreover, we learn that the two disciples left Mary of Magdala by herself, weeping at the tomb. It seems that they are so preoccupied with their own grief that they cannot comfort her.
Then comes the wondrous moment we have been waiting for:
on the other side of Jn 20:10, is the much-loved story of Mary of Magdala's encounter with the Risen Christ whom she mistakes for the gardener. Upon recognizing him, her joy is tangible-- in fact, she spontaneously embraces him, earning a gentle rebuke. But then, before she can even feel disappointed, Jesus commissions her to proclaim his Resurrection/ imminent Ascension to the other disciples. Not only is she the first disciple to see the Risen Christ, but she is also the first to proclaim Jesus' message:
"Tell them, 'I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God'" (Jn 20:17).
This is the moment of true Easter celebration, the moment when Jesus himself announces his triumph over death and the glorification that will allow him to bestow his Spirit upon his followers. In John's Gospel, the Resurrection and Ascension occur almost synchronistically, for "on the evening of that first day of the week," Jesus appears to his disciples and breathes his Spirit upon them. Our joy, then, is twofold: He is risen and He will be with us always....
Theologically speaking, Jn 20:1-10 and Jn 20:11-18 form a single narrative that culminates in an explosion of joy; to omit Jn 20:10 and Jn 20:11-18 is more or less like leaving the assembly with a cliff-hanger on a day when we want to celebrate without restraint. Now, there may be liturgical reasons for truncating the narrative (for example, the tradition of celebrating the Ascension 40 days after the Resurrection), but Easter Sunday is not a day for "returning home" in silence, so mystified by events that we don't know whether to weep or rejoice. Rather, it is a day for bringing out every trumpet and percussion instrument, and for pulling out all the stops on the pipe organ.
John tells us that Mary of Magdala "went" to the disciples to share the amazing Good News. I don't believe that she simply "went," quietly and sedately, having memorized Jesus' message. On the contrary, I see her running, dancing, skipping her way to wherever the disciples are sheltering, banging on the door like a crazy woman, the words tumbling out of her mouth, almost incoherently, as she proclaims the most important Good News of all:
"I have seen the Lord!"
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