I had an email earlier today from a friend in Sydney, Australia. And of course where he was Easter had already come. Here we are, meeting in the darkness of Holy Saturday evening, but there the sun is already up. That is an obvious geographical fact, but it points to something far more mysterious but equally true. It’s still dark in this world, but the Son has already risen – the Son of God, the crucified one, Jesus himself.
That’s what John is telling us in the way he recounts the breathless story of Easter morning. "On the first day of the week, very early, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb, and found the stone rolled away." Something has already happened, and we weren’t ready for it. We weren’t expecting it. Dead people stay dead. Dead Messiahs stay dead. Everybody knows that. Yes, we believe they will rise again on the last day, but not in the middle of history, not in the middle of the night, not in the middle and the muddle of our twisted and fragmented and puzzling and grieving lives.
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