On the first day of the week, Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning, while it was still dark, and saw the stone removed from the tomb. So she ran and went 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. (John 20, 1-2)
The tomb was empty! And therein lies the mystery and meaning of our lives.
In the emptiness of that tomb, every question is answered, for those whose ears will hear.
In the emptiness of that tomb, every doubt is washed away, for those whose hearts will believe.
In the emptiness of that tomb, every fear and sin is buried, for those who are willing to rise with Christ.
For from the darkness of our selfishness.
From the pitch blackness of war and violence,
From the blindness of sin and rebellion,
a light rose form that tomb,
that will never be extinguished,
that will never die!
That light is the Son of the Living God,
through whom this world and time itself were made,
in whom we live and move and have our being.
He was made flesh for us,
a weak and little baby in the arms of his Virgin mother,
he let go of his power as God,
and put took on our human flesh,
to be God and man, and to teach us how to love.
And then he taught us,
to always take the last place,
to seek out and care for the poor,
to pick up our crosses,
to seek only holiness and love.
And then, finally,
when his time had come,
he suffered and died for us,
he was nailed to a cross,
opening his arms in an everlasting sign
of his eternal love.
And when they buried him in the tomb,
that cold and scary Friday night,
most of them thought the story was over.
That he was dead, and would stay that way.
But on the Easter morning,
the light pierced the darkness,
and nothing else really matters.
Only the mystery of this Easter morning:
To die to myself,
and to be born to him alone.
To love unto death,
and to rise to eternal glory.
