The Resurrection

By Fr. Conor Donnelly

(Proofread)

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

My Lord and my God, I firmly believe that you are here, that you see me, that you hear me. I adore you with profound reverence. I ask your pardon for my sins and grace to make this time of prayer fruitful. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

“Now on the first day of the week, Mary Magdalene came early to the tomb, while it was still dark, and she saw the stone taken away from the tomb” (John 20:1).

The whole story of the Resurrection in St. John opens with Mary Magdalene. This is the greatest event in human history.

One might have thought that St. John himself could have been the protagonist of the story, or Our Lady, or St. Peter. But Mary Magdalene steals the show.

She is the great sinner who learned how to love. She represents each one of us, the whole of sinful humanity, and she steals the show. She wins the Oscar because she came early to the tomb while it was still dark. You get the impression that everybody else was asleep in bed. But not Mary Magdalene.

If you're worried or concerned or anxious about something, it's difficult to sleep. Mary Magdalene found it difficult to sleep that morning. Her heart was not in it, because her heart was with Christ.

We see that there's a hole in our hearts. John Paul II liked to say that we all suffer from a hole in the heart, and that hole can only be filled by God.

On this Easter morning, Mary has a great sense of loss. She senses the hole in our hearts because Christ is no longer there, and she feels the need to go and be physically close to Christ.

She conquers all the difficulties and obstacles. She conquers her laziness or her selfishness or her love of comfort. She gets out of bed and came early to the tomb.

Possibly she also had to conquer human respect. There might have been other women who hear her moving early through the town and who peer out from behind their curtains wondering, Where is this one off to at this hour of the morning?

But Mary doesn't mind, because all her thoughts, all her focus is on Jesus. She's also not worried about the other obstacles—the stone that's going to be there covering the tomb.

When she gets there, she finds that the stone has in fact been taken away from the tomb. This upsets her because she thinks that somebody has stolen the Body of Christ.

“She ran therefore and came to Simon Peter.” You get the impression that Mary pulled up her skirt and she tore off to find Simon Peter. She doesn't dilly-dally, doesn't take it easy. She doesn't just go with haste, but she runs.

She comes to “the other disciple, whom Jesus loved.” John always refers to himself in the third person.

“She said to them, ‘They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him’” (John 20:2).

Mary is concerned enough with her sense of loss for the Body of Christ that she goes to spread this word immediately and tries and find a solution.

She goes to the people that might best be concerned, Peter and John. “Peter, therefore, went out, and the other disciple, and they went to the tomb. The two were running together and the other disciple ran on before, faster than Peter, and came first to the tomb” (John 20:3-4). John was younger; he was quicker, lighter of foot.

“And stooping down, he saw the linen cloths lying there, yet he did not enter” (John 20:5). He waited for Peter. John has this little detail of deference to Peter. Peter is the chosen one, the rock, the prince of the apostles; the one whom we always have to follow, be close to, and obey.

“Simon Peter, therefore, came following, and he went into the tomb and saw the linen cloths lying there, and the handkerchief which had been about his head, not lying with the linen cloths, but folded in a place by itself” (John 20:6-7).

St. Josemaría liked to give importance to this little detail. Our Lord didn't just rise from the dead and throw off all the linen cloths that were around Him and leave the place in any old way. But He folded one of the linens that had been around His head; He folded it in a place like itself.

Next time you're drying your hands in a washroom and you're about to put the towel back on the rail, remember that Christ folded the towel very carefully. It's a divine example of the care we have to take of little things: folding a towel, folding our clothes, folding bedcloths or linens, folding things, putting order in things.

That's how Jesus left the tomb, and it's an example that's there for the whole of eternity.

“Then the other disciple also went in, he who had come first to the tomb, and he saw and believed” (John 20:8). This is the first witness of faith after the resurrection: “He saw and believed.”

We get the impression that up to now, they hadn't really believed. But now, there's a conversion of faith.

“For as yet, they did not understand the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead” (John 20:9).

This continuing theme throughout the whole of Holy Week, that Our Lord is performing great and important deeds, but really the apostles are on another planet. They don't know what's happening. They don't grasp the significance of the events.

They don't understand what it is Our Lord is saying to them. Here we have it confirmed for us: “For as yet, they did not understand the Scripture, that he must rise from the dead. The disciples, therefore, went away again to their home” (John 20:9-10).

It's a funny statement. There's this great event that has taken place, the greatest event in human history. Christ has conquered death. He's conquered the devil. He's conquered suffering and everything. “Then the disciples went away again to their home.”

We're almost told that they went back to bed. It's curious that they weren't a little bit more curious or surprised, or they don't hang around there wondering what else is going to happen.

But Mary doesn't go home. Mary stays there, in contrast to the apostles. Fidelity and love. That hole in her heart has not yet been fully filled. In fact, it's still empty.

We're told, “Mary was standing outside, weeping at the tomb.” So while the apostles go home, Mary turns to weep. The apostles don't weep.

“As she wept, she stooped down and looked into the tomb. And she saw two angels in white, sitting one at the head and one at the feet”—where the body of Jesus had been lain.

“They said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping?’ And in sorrow, Mary says to them, ‘Because they have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him’” (John 20:11-13).

Mary now helps us to have that look into her heart—why she came early to the tomb, why she doesn't go home or go back to bed—because she's still looking for Christ. Her sense of loss is great.

We can learn from this great sinner who learned how to love: to have that great sense of loss, if ever we have lost Christ in our life through sin, or through negligence, or through whatever.

Lord, give us that sense of loss so that we might always yearn to get back into the state of grace, to have the Blessed Trinity living in our souls: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

“We will come and make our abode in Him” (John 14:23). That's what Mary is looking for.

From her actions and her words, we can ask God that we might also have this yearning for the sacrament of Confession and of Holy Communion; to be in a state of grace, and to have Christ living in our souls.

“When she said this, she turned around and beheld Jesus standing there, and she did not know that it was Jesus” (John 20:14).

It’s interesting how Our Lord does not appear to her immediately. He's going to disclose Himself to her gradually, quietly, gently.

How often in our life Our Lord is there right beside us, and He speaks to us—or maybe He doesn't speak to us. He is there in people, in places, in events. He is there but we don't recognize Him.

He wants to pass unnoticed. But He's never far away. He wants us to grow forward in faith, or in hope, or to discover His presence.

“Jesus said to her, ‘Woman, why are you weeping? Whom do you seek?’”

Little by little Our Lord is going to tease her out a little bit. He's going to let her discover His presence in a very slow way.

“She, thinking that he was the gardener, said to him, ‘Sir, if you've removed him, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away’” (John 20:14-15).

These are rather dramatic words from Mary Magdalene. We know more or less that Our Lord was six feet tall. He must have weighed at least 75 kilos. And this slim young lady is going to say, ‘Tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away.’

Mary feels all-powerful. Love has made her all-powerful. She feels a great strength. Whatever it is, whatever it takes, I will do it.

Our Lord has masqueraded as the gardener.

I heard a rather beautiful story recently. Somebody told me that when they were at secondary school, many years ago—twenty, thirty years ago—there was a very beautiful little garden in a part of this boarding school that was very well cared for by a very good gardener. He was a very poor man, very humble. A very humble dwelling.

But the student said that he used to notice this gardener on his knees, pulling the weeds out of the flower beds in this garden and the vegetable patch.

“I used to observe how he worked. He worked with great love for his work, and great devotion to his work. He was poetry in action. The way he worked impressed me a lot. It attracted my attention.”

When he was finished working, he'd go over to a small little shrine of Our Lady that there was in one corner of the garden, and he would kneel there in front of Our Lady, as if offering her the work that he had just done, or thanking her for the health and talents and abilities that had enabled him to be able to do that work.

“Many decades later, I still remember that gardener. He left an impact on my heart and on my soul.”

It's interesting listening to this little story: the power of the gardener. The power of the gardener in a school.

Sometimes we think that all our learning takes place in the classroom, or from very learned teachers. But that may not be the case.

This man remembered the great lessons that this gardener had taught him, and had a desire in his life that he might always work with that same devotion with which that gardener worked.

Our Lord was mistaken for the gardener. He masqueraded and played a sort of practical joke on Mary Magdalene, as He might often do on each one of us.

“Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’” So now He addresses Mary Magdalene by her name.

Our Lord calls each one of us by our name. The good shepherd knows the sheep by name. God has given us a name in Baptism—a name that will last forever. The Catechism says our name is a reflection of our dignity.

We see this intimacy with Mary Magdalene—how she is addressed with that same dignity that all great sinners are also addressed by Jesus. He has come to call all of them.

“Turning, she said to him, Rabboni (that is to say, Master)” (John 20:16-17) In other moments of the Gospel, when Our Lord is approached by people, often He is the one that turns.

He turns to the woman who touched His cloak with the issue of blood (Matt. 9:20-21). Nobody else felt or noticed her, but He turned to this sinner, stopped what He was doing, disengaged Himself from the crowd, and turned to the sinner.

But now it is the sinner that turns to Him. We are invited also to turn to Christ, who has the answer to all our problems and questions and ills.

Jesus said to her, “Do not touch me, for I have not yet ascended to my father” (John 20:17). Our Lord makes a reference to the fact that now His risen body is His glorious body. It's not the same as before.

People are not just meant to reach out and touch Him in any old way. This is His risen and glorious body. Things are different.

There's a church in Singapore that is called the Church of the Risen Christ. I thought that was a rather beautiful title.

We are followers of the Risen Christ. We don't just believe in Christ or in any Christ; we believe in the Risen Christ—a Christ who has conquered death, conquered sin, conquered the devil; a Christ who brings us joy, hope, and optimism.

Because we're part of and believe in the Risen Christ, we have a great reason to live and to look to the future with confidence.

“But go to my brethren and say to them, ‘I ascend to my Father and to your Father, to my God and to your God.’” Our Lord gives Mary Magdalene a mission.

He calls her to be an apostle. The great sinner now becomes the great apostle. Pope Benedict liked to say that Mary becomes the apostle of the apostles: “Go to my brethren and say to them, ‘I ascend to my Father and to your Father’” (John 20:17).

She becomes the missionary of the Resurrection, the first person that has this Good News. She's the first one to whom Our Lord has revealed Himself.

That makes Mary Magdalene a very important person in the whole of humanity—singled out in a special way, chosen from all eternity.

Each one of us—we have our special role. We have been chosen from all eternity. We may be great sinners, but God wants us to be great apostles.

“Mary Magdalene came and announced to the disciples, ‘I have seen the Lord, and these things he has said to me.’” She fulfills the command. She's no longer weeping. She's now at peace.

Her soul and heart are no longer yearning because that hole has been filled. She has found Christ, and a whole new dimension to her life has begun.

She's begun now to bring Christ to others. She finds her peace, her fulfillment, her joy, her destiny. ‘I have seen the Lord and these things he has said to me.’

The story of the Resurrection is a story of hope, of joy, of fulfillment. Easter is the greatest day and moment of our whole life. We are called to live that Easter in a regular way.

A Dutch missionary priest in Singapore told me once how the greatest priestly moment of his life was when he was called to see a Dutch lady in hospital with cancer. Her death wasn't imminent, but she'd been away from the sacraments for decades.

He said, “I was asked to go and see her. I went to see her and we talked for a while. And then the moment came when I had to ask her the $64,000 question, which was, ‘Would you like me to hear your confession?’”

She gave the $64,000 answer, which was, “Oh, I have nothing to confess.” So, then he chatted it up a little more and cajoled her a little bit.

Finally, she said, “OK, if it will make you happy, I will go to Confession.” She went to Confession.

Then this priest said that after her Confession, she put her head back in the pillow and said, “Now, it is really Easter.”

The priest said, “I was very moved by that.’

Here was this woman who had been away from the sacraments for decades. But yet she still remembered all the things she had learned at her First Communion.

She knew what Good Friday was. She knew what the Redemption was. She knew what divine grace was. She knew what the Resurrection was.

She knew that it meant that the gates of heaven were opened. Sin had been conquered. The devil had been conquered. There's a whole new horizon. We have everything to look forward to. The eternal wedding feast.

He said, “Somehow the whole of Catholic doctrine seemed to be summed up in that phrase: ‘Now it is really Easter.’”

We can truly say, “Now, it is really Easter.”

Every time that we go to Confession, we can also say those same words and have those same sentiments when we come out of the confessional box: “Now, it is really Easter.”

I have everything to look forward to. I'm on my pathway to heaven. I look forward to the eternal wedding feast. I can live a life of joy, of hope, of optimism because of the Resurrection, because of the risen Lord.

In the early 1970s, one Friday evening in Dublin, three bombs exploded. Something like thirty people were killed.

A parish priest of an inner city parish told me how an elderly lady came to see him at nine o'clock that night, saying that her son was missing. She was very worried.

So this priest said, “We went to the three local hospitals. One by one, we searched them to see if there might be any trace of her son. The hospitals were still in a state of chaos with so many injured and dead, and a lot of blood around the place.

“As we went from one hospital to the other, there wasn't any sign of her son. After finishing the third hospital, a certain amount of time had passed., so we decided to go back and try again.

“Now a certain amount of order had been restored in the emergency rooms. The names of the people admitted had been written down. But in the first hospital, there was no sign of her son.

“Then we went to the second hospital and lo and behold, her son was there. His name was on the admission list. We went to look for him and we found him. He was alive.”

This priest described the joy of that mother at finding her son alive.

If the human joy of a mother at finding her son alive could be so great, what must the joy of Our Lady have been on Easter Sunday morning when the news reaches her that Christ has risen?

During the next forty days, the Church invites us to share in the joy of Our Lady and to say or to sing The Regina Caeli:

“Queen of Heaven, rejoice, alleluia. Rejoice and be glad, O Virgin Mary, for the Lord has truly risen, alleluia.”

Easter is a time of joy because the Lord has truly risen. Alleluia.

Joy is one of the most infallible signs of God's presence. For us believers in the risen Christ, it should be a permanent state, because as children of God, we're in a permanent state. The joy in our lives is the fruit and the mark of charity.

We know that God loves us. He has sought us out. He has redeemed us. To be with Christ is a source of joy.

Joy comes from imitating Christ. It may be that with the passage of time, the things that give us great joy when we're younger, human joys, sports, other things, possibly give way to greater spiritual joys as we get older—joys that do not fade.

If we try to love the Cross more each day, we will become a more joyful person.

Joy comes from abandonment into the hands of Our Father God. Lord, “into your hands I commend my spirit” (Luke 23:46). We are close to the source of all joy, and true virtue is pleasantly joyful.

The word ‘joy’ and that ‘God is joy’ appears three hundred times in Scripture. The frequency of a word in Scripture is an indication of its importance.

Because we live in a finite, material, human world, we might lose our joy from time to time. But we can recover it very quickly. Acts of thanksgiving can help us to restore our joy, because we realize that everything has come from the hands of God.

Joy in our life is a necessary and unavoidable consequence of love. Our joy can be a good indication of how we're living our Christian vocation, of our self-surrender.

Often the greatest joys in life are purchased at the cost of some sacrifice. Our mothers have sacrificed themselves for us.

Confucius, a Chinese philosopher, says, “When you drink water, you should remember the source.” When you experience some joy, try and recall or realize where that joy came from.

A pleasant state of mind can tend to bring abnormal situations back to normal. A joyful person at work, in the home, with our friends, can lift up the whole spiritual temperature.

The joy that Christ has won for us at Easter is meant to be constant and heroic. Nothing should be able to undermine it. We live a smiling asceticism.

Our Lady experienced rejection all throughout her life—in Bethlehem, in Egypt, and particularly at the foot of the Cross. But she was always calm. There was not a word of complaint.

Looking at ourselves, we might have very few reasons for cheerfulness and joy. But looking at Christ risen from the dead, we have every reason, because He has conquered death, conquered the devil, conquered sin, and conquered temptation.

Our joy is not a function of circumstances. There could be a very joyful occasion, and we could be rather sad. There could be a sad occasion, and interiorly we might be joyful.

We build joy on our faith—faith in the love that God has for us. I am a child of God.

We can have a new joy at beginning again in this after-Easter period, as we realize that created things are powerless to satisfy our hunger for happiness.

We may have to be like the prodigal child, who comes back frequently every day, to begin again in joy. “Father, I am not worthy to be called your child. Treat me as one of your hired servants” (Luke 15:19).

Chesterton has liked to say that one of the things that is least talked about, on the cross, is the joy of Christ on the Cross—that “it is accomplished” (John 19:30). I fulfilled the mission. “I fought the good fight, I finished the race.” (2 Timothy 4:7-8).

As we look forward to our life or look back on the things we have achieved, we have great reason to be joyful as well. Joy is one of nature's greatest medicines. It's a gift of the Holy Spirit (Gal. 5:22).

All through this Easter period, you can think of the joy of Our Lady. Joy is always something healthy. Joy means others. “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior” (Luke 1:46).

We get joy from serving God. The joy of our self-surrender. The joy of the fulfillment of our ordinary duties. Chesterton liked to say that joy and cheerfulness are a highly civilized product.

Pope Benedict said, “Never forget, dear young people, that our happiness depends, in the end, on the encounter and friendship with Jesus” (Address to Participants, UNIV, April 2006).

Mother Teresa of Calcutta liked to say, Never be so down “as to forget the joy of the risen Christ” (Malcolm Muggeridge, Something Beautiful for God).

As we say the Regina Caeli these days, we could try to be reminded of the great joy of Our Lady that has come with the Resurrection.

I thank you, my God, for the good resolutions, affections, and inspirations that you have communicated to me during this meditation. I ask your help to put them into practice. My Immaculate Mother, Saint Joseph, my father and lord, my guardian angel, intercede for me.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

EW