Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord
Readings: Acts 10:34, 37-43; Psalm 117 (118): 1-2, 16-17, 22-23; 1 Corinthians 5:6-8; Matthew 28:1-10
Picture: By Mathieu Improvisato on Unsplash
My dear friends, what is it like to run a race? I’m not sure, but doesn’t it depend on the type of race? Some races are really strenuous and draining, yet many people still choose to run them. Often just for fun. Even over and over again. Like that highly popular endurance race going on at the National Stadium this weekend. It’s called Hyrox... And then there are also races of a different sort. Races beyond the world of sport. Races that people engage in, not for fun, but because they’ve somehow fallen or found themselves trapped in it. For example, right now, even as those Hyrox enthusiasts sweat it out in Kallang, others in the Middle East are engaged in a desperate race, to find the remaining crew member of the US fighter jet that was shot done over Iran on Friday. And we know that these efforts are part of a wider arms race. For one of the reasons given for the war is the need to stop Iran from producing a nuclear weapon.
Which makes it all the more disturbing, doesn’t it, that here at home, it has become appropriate for us to apply this same language of war to how we approach the formation of our children? To call it an education arms race. Which describes how some of us see fit to take what should be a wholesome pursuit of excellence, the fulfilling of a child’s potential, even a quest for life’s deeper meaning, and to deform it. Disfigure it. Reduce it to an anxious contest for securing ever more wealth, status, privilege… An extension of that other contest in which so many adults often feel trapped. The infamous stress-producing, burnout-inducing, soul-sapping, fertility-reducing rat race.
It’s helpful for us, myself included, to keep all this in mind, even if it may feel a bit like a wet blanket, on this joyous Easter Day. For it’s possible to hear Peter’s re-telling of the story of Jesus, in the first reading, as a collision between two opposing itineraries. Two contrasting ways of running a spiritual race. On the one hand, beginning from Galilee, and relying on the power of the Holy Spirit, Jesus goes about doing good and curing all who had fallen into the power of the devil. All who find themselves trapped in a deadly race, from which they’re helpless to extricate themselves. How does the Lord do this? By teaching everyone to trust in the loving mercy of God. Inviting them to come to him. To learn from him. To shoulder his gentle yoke, and to find rest in him (Mt 11:28). On the other hand, the religious authorities of the day, at least as they are portrayed in the gospels, lay unbearable burdens on people’s shoulders, without making any effort to move them (Mt 23:4). Feeling threatened by the Lord, and jealous of him, they see no other alternative than to kill him, by hanging him on a tree. Yet, by raising him to life, God proves him right. Authenticates his race. And by allowing him to be seen, God empowers those witnesses to run the same race as Jesus did...
To be set free from a death-dealing race, in order to run a life-giving one. Isn’t this what is happening to the disciples in the gospel? Isn’t it striking that, at the start, all three of them are dashing about so frantically? Whether or not they realise it, the pain and trauma of the preceding days have led each of them to run a race of some kind. And it’s helpful for us to ponder their experience a little more deeply. What might be going on in Mary’s heart, as she races away in search of Peter and the other disciple? Her love for Jesus has drawn her to the tomb. And it is this same love, that makes her feel alarmed and frightened to find it empty. They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we don’t know where they have put him… In other words, not satisfied with torturing and killing our beloved Master, have they now stooped so low as to desecrate his corpse as well? Still, much as Mary’s actions are motivated by love, it is a love that remains unenlightened by faith. Isn’t this why the reading begins by telling us that it was… still dark? The gospel is telling us that, at this point, Mary is still racing in the darkness of un-faith.
And we might say the same about Peter and the other disciple. Like Mary, it’s likely that they too are both motivated by love, and also clouded by grief and anxiety. But something happens to them inside the tomb. Something in them begins to change. At least in the disciple Jesus loved. For the gospel tells us that, having entered the empty tomb, and seeing how neatly the burial cloths were arranged, he saw and he believed. Although the gospel doesn’t elaborate, we might imagine what he does next. The contrast between his urgent arrival at the tomb, and how he leaves it. No longer frantic, but pensive, reflective, encouraged, even peaceful… No longer blinded by anxiety. But gradually suffused with the light of faith. A faith that brings with it the dawning of Easter hope and joy. As well as the power to run a different race. The race of and in the Lord.
To be set free from a death-dealing race, in order to run a life-giving one. Isn’t this the precious gift of Easter? Isn’t this what the second reading is inviting us to receive and to live? Isn’t this what it means to get rid of the old yeast, and to become a new batch of bread? And isn’t this also what we will commit ourselves to, in a few moments, when together we renew our baptismal promises, and are sprinkled with blessed water?
If a simple sport like Hyrox can inspire such devotion in its followers, how much more does Easter have the power to move us. Sisters and brothers, what race are we really running today?
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