We can't always trust our eyes.
Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene went to the tomb and saw the stone had been removed.
It's been said that the only things certain in this world are death and taxes. We can probably also add that dead people don't up and leave their tombs. So it must be that someone, or someones, took the body of Jesus out of the tomb and hid it. That's what Mary's eyes tell here – an empty tomb must mean the body was taken away.
After telling Peter and the other disciple, she goes back to the tomb. Who knows? Maybe the grave robbers will bring him back. At the tomb she meets two angels, and then she meets Jesus. All three of them, the angels and Jesus, ask her why she's weeping. The question is honest. The angels and Jesus understand the scope of the story. They understand that in a garden, life was created. And now, in a garden, life is resurrected. They understand that through Christ, death has been defeated. They understand all this; but as yet, Mary does not, so she weeps.
As a disciple, Mary heard Jesus teach about sacrifice, death, and life. She heard Jesus talk about being lifted up so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. She heard Jesus talk about he and the Father being one and preparing a place for his followers. She heard all this, and more, but hearing and seeing can sometimes be two different things.
So Mary cries at the loss of her friend and teacher, and she cries over the audacious cruelty of someone who would steal away the body of Jesus. She cries because, as of yet, she has not made the connection between what she has been told and what she sees.
And then, while trying to hide her tears and with her back to Jesus, she hears his voice. She hears the voice of the one who raised Jairus' daughter, a widow's son, and Lazarus from the dead. She hears the voice of the one who healed the blind, the deaf, and the leprous. She hears the voice of the one who fed 5000 people and who said, “Do not be afraid.” In the morning silence of the the garden, like Elijah in the sheer silence of the mountain, she hears the voice of God: Mary.
Mary hears the voice of God in a way her eyes couldn't comprehend.
She hears the voice calling her through the silence. She hears the voice that calls us through our grief. She hears the voice that calls us over the tumult of life's wild, restless seas. She hears the voice that cut through her despair to open her eyes to the promised hope of resurrection. She hears the voice that turns her deep sorrow into deep joy.
We can't always trust our eyes, but we can trust the voice that calls us into a new life. We need to look not only with our eyes, but listen with our ears and look with our heart.
On this Day of Resurrection, what do you see? People gathered to worship. Friends and family joining together in a holy place. You see and hear hymns being sung, processions made, and lessons read. You may see or smell the faint haze of incense hanging in the air from the first service. You see people greet each other in the name of the risen Christ, and you will see the priest perform manual acts over bread and wine in which the real presence of Christ infuses those earthly creatures to become the holy food of Body and Blood for the holy people of God.
We see all this and maybe, like Mary at the empty tomb, we can't quite trust our eyes.
But maybe, also like Mary on this Day of Resurrection, we will hear the voice of Christ. Maybe we will hear the voice of Christ speaking through Saint Paul asking us to set our minds on things heavenly. Maybe we will hear the voice of Christ speaking through Saint Peter proclaiming a vision of unity. Maybe we will feel the presence of Christ flow through us as we partake of this holy meal of the most blessed Body and Blood.
And that's the thing. This faith of ours isn't a faith of what we see, it's a faith we experience. Ours is a faith of connections. Ours is a faith of actions. It's a faith of many, small, cumulative words and interactions, visible and invisible, that gently calls your name and says you belong here. You belong with Christ.
On this Day of Resurrection you may not want to trust your eyes. On this Day of Resurrection you may wonder how a dead man walked out of a tomb. But on this Day of Resurrection I encourage you to listen for that small voice calling your name. Listen for the voice that says, “I am here with you, and I want you here with me.”
And when you hear that voice, may you, like Mary, be filled with joy and proclaim the Good News of the Resurrection.
We can't always trust our eyes, but we can always trust in the presence of Christ.
Happy Easter.
Alleluia! Christ is risen!
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.
Amen.
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