Easter Darkness, Easter Light

Acts 10:34a, 37-43
Psalm 118:1-2, 16-17, 22-23
Colossians 3:1-4 or 1Corinthians 5:-6b
Sequence: “To the Paschal Victim”
John 20:1-9

It always strikes me when I read the readings for Easter Sunday how different the Gospel reading is from the other readings and texts of the day.

The first reading is from Acts, from the speech that Peter gives at Pentecost, when he and the other disciples had been filled with the Holy Spirit. It is a speech filled with insight into Jesus’ identity, and the bold proclamation of it. Jesus was anointed by the Spirit, and went about doing good and healing. He was put to death, but God raised him from the dead. We have seen him. We are his witnesses. He commissioned us to preach that he is the one from whom people will receive forgiveness of their sins. To this the responsorial psalm cries out “This is the day the Lord has made!” and recites several powerful, triumphant verses of Psalm 118.

Whichever second reading is chosen, it will be one of confidence and a call to transforming our lives. We have been raised with Christ, so we need to act like it. Our lives are no longer ours. They are hidden in Christ. Throw out the old yeast, knead in the new of sincerity and truth.

The reading is followed by the poem “Victimae paschali laudes” ([offer] praises to the Paschal Victim). It goes back to the 11^th century and is one of only four “sequences” or non-scriptural readings found in the Roman Liturgy (the others are on Pentecost, the Feast of the Body and Blood of the Lord, and the Feast of the Sorrowful Mother). It is again a joyful proclamation of Jesus’ triumph over death. In the words of Mary Magdelene: “Yes, Christ my hope is arisen; to Galilee he goes before you.”

But the Gospel is different. It has a whole different feel. Those words of Mary in the “sequence” come later than the scene in the Gospel. It takes place in the dark of early morning. It begins with an astonished, frightened, and confused Mary, who sees that the stone has been removed from the tomb. It continues with Peter and “the other disciple” probably not believing Mary and going to the tomb to find out for themselves. Arriving at the tomb they discover that Mary was right, and each crawls into the tomb and sees for himself that Jesus is not there. The gospel ends, though, not with Easter faith but with lack of understanding. They’ll only really understand at the end of the day when Jesus appears to them in the room where they were huddled together, afraid that they would be the next to die. Easter doesn’t begin with joy and clear insight. It begins in darkness and fear and confusion.

I think this should be a consolation for us, though. I think it tells us that our own darkness and fear and confusion do not necessarily lead us to a dead end, but can lead us to new paths. I think it tells us that, in ways that we may not fully understand, God is at work in our lives even when we might not be aware of it, or even when we think that God has abandoned us. I think it tells us that, no matter what we may experience to the contrary, God never does abandon us. We might think that our way in life will never be clear. We may think that, during a rough patch as we live out or continue to discern our vocation, we have made the wrong choice. Or maybe we’re afraid to admit that we have made a wrong choice.

Take a look, though, at the whole of Psalm 118, at the verses which are not read in today’s responsorial psalm. The psalmist writes about being totally surrounded by enemies. They were like a swarm of bees, like a fire raging in a patch of dry thorns. The psalmist was “pushed hard,” and “was failing,” “but the Lord helped me, the Lord is my strength and my song” (see verses 10-13). God is always there. What looked like a stone rejected by the builders has become the most important stone of all!

This is the meaning of Easter. This is why, weeks later at Pentecost, or years later in the church’s preaching, Peter and Paul could be so convinced, so committed, so sure, so joyful. Gradually the darkness of the early Easter morning gave way to the light of understanding that Jesus “had to rise from the dead.” Easter light often begins in Easter darkness.

Even if we have gone to the tomb in early morning darkness, even if we have been fearful and confused, Easter offers us the truth of the coming sunrise. Then we can sing with confidence the Alleluias of the Easter liturgy, and proclaim in joy that “Christ indeed from death is risen, our new life obtaining.”