First Responders

This Easter, John’s Easter, our Easter, is a personal one. We gather only with those closest to us, the ones with whom we have now been gathered for many weeks. Some of us are weeping. Some of us, like Mary, are first responders who put your own safety on the line to care for the sick and dying and dead. Some of us are like the disciples, alternating between adrenaline spikes and crashes. I venture to say all of us know what it feels like to have had something or someone taken away and the confusion and anguish of such strange times.

In the midst of all of this, the tomb that Mary found is still empty. Our church, which we all love, also sits empty. Churches of the faithful all over the world today sit empty. This is not the Easter any of us would have imagined, but how faithful it is. Our churches sit empty as a witness to the empty tomb: “He is not there.”  The promise of this Easter is that Christ will not be contained in a tomb or in a church or anything we humans can fashion. The tomb is empty because we proclaim life, a life that Christ has given and promised, a life that will be abundant and sure. The Gospel of John tells of resurrection that will come in the morning, even when ascension hasn’t yet happened. This is our day. Resurrection is true and assured. God will guide us out of death and into new life for God has done it before and God will do it again and again and again.

This is the resurrection of Jesus Christ, a day for all of us to witness what is empty as a sign not of loss but of life. This is a quieter Easter. We’ll pull out the stops in person some other time soon. But know that in this time, this Easter, Christ has come to you in the most intimate ways, calling your name and telling the promises of God. For I have come to give you life, and life abundant. Christ is not in an empty tomb or an empty church. Christ is risen and lives with each of you. Alleluia. Amen.

An excerpt from Easter Sunday, 2020, at the height of the pandemic in New York City