Father John Kartje

April 5: Resurrection of the Lord

Wednesday, March 18, 2026

Showing up

Acts 10:34a, 37-43; Ps 118:1-2, 16-17, 22-23; Col 3:1-4; Jn 20:1-9

I’ve always been struck by the sharp distinction between funeral Masses and wake services.

Unlike a funeral Mass, which follows an established ritual liturgy, wake services have no clear guidelines. Yes, certain set prayers can be said, but the overall feeling is one of fragility and spontaneous, raw emotion.

At a wake service, I know that I’m intentionally immersing myself into other people’s unique expression of pain and suffering. I have little control over what is about to transpire, but it will almost certainly be marked by sadness, loss and grief.

I share this because it is critically important for us to remember that when Mary of Magdala arrives at the tomb on the morning of the first day of the week, she intentionally comes to encounter a corpse and follow a ritual. But she unintentionally finds herself entangled in an intense web of shock and emotions.

If performing standard burial rites provides something akin to the comfort of a funeral Mass, what Mary walked into that morning was more like the chaos of a wake service driven by family drama and inconsolable grief.

She doesn’t know it’s “Easter morning.” She has no ham in the oven to prepare when she returns home. She’s anticipating no amazing display of floral arrangements or inspiring music. And she certainly isn’t expecting to be met by huge crowds at the tomb, with extra chairs set up for the overflow, and maybe additional seating in the school gym with livestreaming.

No, Mary is heading to the tomb quite alone (according to John’s Gospel, which we read during the day on Easter). She is preparing her mind and heart to hold in her arms the broken body of her beloved friend; to wipe away the dried blood and sweat from his skin and anoint it with fragrant oils.

We can only imagine the flood of emotions washing over her: sadness, grief, confusion, disappointment, shame, perhaps even anger toward the Pharisees, Romans and the other disciples who fled from the cross?

When she finds the empty tomb, she initially has no inkling whatsoever of the Resurrection. Her feelings are only compounded by the confusion and fear stirred up by her belief that Jesus’ body has been stolen and its whereabouts unknown.

When our Gospel passage ends, Mary is still very much in that same frame of mind and heart. I give great credit to our church for resisting any temptation to continue the Gospel reading to include the moment of Mary joyously discovering that Jesus is indeed alive.

The reading as we have it forces us to sit, like Mary, with the uncertainty that can be generated whenever any of the promises of our faith remain seemingly unfulfilled.

For example, we “know” that Jesus’ triumph over sin and death means that we are not condemned to be defined or ultimately defeated by our personal failings. God’s infinite mercy is always available to those who sincerely seek it.

Nor do the inevitable losses we experience in life mean that we can’t also know the consolation of God’s love even as we struggle with the pain. But knowing these theological truths does not always equate with taking them to heart.

We should learn from Mary’s example. In the face of her own confusion and fear, she nevertheless returned to the tomb and remained there — without clear answers or resolution of her trauma. Because she stayed and honestly voiced her distress, she was prepared to receive Jesus when he finally appeared to her.

But recounting that joy in all its fullness is not meant for today (we read about Mary meeting Jesus on the Tuesday after Easter). For now, we must wait and remain, if we can.

Our lives don’t unfold according to liturgical timing. We want quick solutions to our problems and we want Jesus to deliver them with resurrection glory exactly when, where and how we want them.

Maybe that’s why the eight calendar days of the Easter octave are properly referred to as “Easter Day.” If your experience of resurrection joy doesn’t come until three days, or three months, or even three years after this weekend, don’t despair. Just keep showing up to the tomb.

Topics:

  • scripture

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