Bishop’s Notes: Easter Message
My beloved siblings in Christ in the NWPA synod, Grace and peace to you in the name of Jesus Christ, our crucified and risen Lord.
“Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone had been removed from the tomb. So she ran and went to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one whom Jesus loved, and said to them, ‘They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.’ … But Mary stood weeping outside the tomb. As she wept, she bent over to look into the tomb, and she saw two angels in white sitting where the body of Jesus had been lying, one at the head and the other at the feet. They said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ She said to them, ‘They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.’ When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus standing there, but she did not know that it was Jesus. Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?’ Supposing him to be the gardener, she said to him, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary!’ She turned and said to him in Hebrew, ‘Rabbouni!’ (which means Teacher).
– John 20:1-2, 11-16
As I reflect on the journey we have taken during this season, especially as we reflect on the last week of Christ’s life lived out in these holy days and the shocking news of the resurrection, I cannot help but think about the journey that we are walking in our own lives. We, too, are experiencing moments of dark Good Fridays, whether in our own personal lives or more corporately when we hear news of wars or other such painful events in our country and across the world.
It is because of these moments, especially, that we then need the Good News of Easter—the news that comforts our hearts and brings us peace. That even when the world looks bleak, we know that God is bringing about redemption and resurrection. What I appreciate most about John’s telling of the Resurrection is that the setting is “while it was still dark.” The hope and promise of Easter come to us when things are still in shadow, when light has not yet arrived.
Mary arrives at the tomb still carrying heavy grief. She is weeping, mourning, seeking comfort and stillness. She wants to be near her Lord, her friend. But what she finds is the unexpected, a reality that she struggles to piece together. She finds the empty tomb and then is greeted by angels, but cannot fathom resurrection hope. Instead, she continues to wonder “Where have they laid him? Why is he not here?” When she encounters the supposed garden, you can hear the distress in her plea: tell me where he is and I will take him away. But when this man speaks her name, she recognizes him. Through his tender greeting, she is met with this shocking truth: Jesus is alive, he is here! And she goes to share this news, the first to proclaim that Christ is risen! Alleluia!
This year, we, too, might arrive at the empty tomb, at Easter morning, carrying our own heavy grief and burdens, looking for comfort and stillness. We might be seeking God’s presence in our lives and in the world. But on this Easter morning, while still shrouded in darkness, we again discover God’s promises anew, the promises made to us in our baptism into Christ’s own death and resurrection. Death and our own Good Fridays do not have the final word! Christ is risen! We have seen the Lord! Alleluia.
So this Easter, whether you arrive with jubilant shouts of joy, ready for the light and the flowers and celebration; or you arrive with some fear and trembling, grief and heaviness: there is a place for you in our houses of worship. Christ does not demand that we rush out to share the good news immediately. We are given time to adjust to the light, to weep, to question, and to hear our names—wondering how this might all be possible. You are welcome to come to worship wherever you are on your faith journeys.
As we enter into the celebrations of Easter, I pray that the quiet hope found in that empty tomb and the relieved exclamation of “Teacher” sustain your hearts in this season as we share our faith with a world in need.
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