Blurred Eyes Under the Cover of Darkness: That First Easter Morning.

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Gospel: John 20: 1-2, 11-18

On the first day of the week,
Mary Magdalene came to the tomb early in the morning,
while it was still dark,
and saw the stone removed from the tomb.
So she ran and went to Simon Peter
and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them,
“They have taken the Lord from the tomb,
and we don’t know where they put him.”

Mary stayed outside the tomb weeping.
And as she wept, she bent over into the tomb
and saw two angels in white sitting there,
one at the head and one at the feet
where the Body of Jesus had been.
And they said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?”
She said to them, “They have taken my Lord,
and I don’t know where they laid him.”
When she had said this, she turned around and saw Jesus there,
but did not know it was Jesus.
Jesus said to her, “Woman, why are you weeping?
Whom are you looking for?”
She thought it was the gardener and said to him,
“Sir, if you carried him away,
tell me where you laid him,
and I will take him.”
Jesus said to her, “Mary!”
She turned and said to him in Hebrew,
“Rabbouni,” which means Teacher.
Jesus said to her,
“Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.
But go to my brothers and tell them,
‘I am going to my Father and your Father,
to my God and your God.'”
Mary Magdalene went and announced to the disciples,
“I have seen the Lord,”
and then reported what he told her.

The Gospel of the Lord.

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The experience of Mary Magdalene at the empty tomb reveals that Easter is meant to both console and stretch us.

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According to John’s Gospel, Mary is the first to arrive in the eerily dark and quiet cemetery that first Easter morning. Even before the sun crept over the hills, she was on the go. 

Realizing that the stone had been rolled away, Mary fled in panic, rushing to tell Peter and John. They followed her back to the tomb, but for some reason, the men decided to leave.

Mary, crushed by the death of Jesus – and now his unexplainable absence – sits down and weeps. 

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I suppose she peeked into that darkened tomb simply to remind herself that Jesus wasn’t there. Suddenly, angels appear to her, inquiring what her grief is all about.

Mary doesn’t recognize the divine figures because her eyes and face must’ve been inflamed from crying so many tears; not just that morning, but the night before, and the night before that. 

Then Jesus himself approaches her, and the result is the same. She cannot “see.” 

That’s where humanity’s first experience of Easter begins. In the blurriness; the confusion; the darkness. Mary, abandoned by Peter and John, grieves much like her Master did three days prior.

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I suppose the question we’re supposed to ask is, “Why?” 

“Why” from a thousand different angles. Why death? Why must we suffer? Why does Easter begin in the dark? Why can Mary not recognize Jesus at first? Why can she not physically hold him, even if for a moment?

Answers to such questions reside somewhere within the shroud of mystery. But Mary’s experience of Easter reminds us of some very important lessons in faith.

There is no Easter without Good Friday; there is no hope without loss; divine consolation comes when we weep, but only after we search for the Lord.

“I have seen the Lord,” Mary proclaims. May her experience of Easter become our own. In the words of the Psalmist, “May your mourning be turned into dancing.” 

For Christ is Risen! Alleluia!

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Image credits: (1) Hearing God’s Whisper, WordPress (2) Fritz von Uhde, Noli Mi Tangere (3) Christ is Risen, St. Anthony, Sacramento

Jesus, we wish to see a sign.

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Gospel: Matthew 12: 38-42

Some of the scribes and Pharisees said to Jesus,
“Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.”
He said to them in reply,
“An evil and unfaithful generation seeks a sign,
but no sign will be given it
except the sign of Jonah the prophet.
Just as Jonah was in the belly of the whale three days and three nights,
so will the Son of Man be in the heart of the earth
three days and three nights.
At the judgment, the men of Nineveh will arise with this generation
and condemn it, because they repented at the preaching of Jonah;
and there is something greater than Jonah here.
At the judgment the queen of the south will arise with this generation
and condemn it, because she came from the ends of the earth
to hear the wisdom of Solomon;
and there is something greater than Solomon here.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

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“Teacher, we wish to see a sign from you.”

Throughout the Old Testament, it was common for the prophets to perform miracles – such as Moses parting the Red Sea or Elijah calling down fire from heaven – to prove that they were, in fact, God’s instruments.

But herein lies the distinction between the prophets and Jesus. 

Jesus is not an instrument of God; he is God. The fact that God has taken on flesh, fulfilling nearly 300 Old Testament prophecies, and is now standing in the midst of his people is itself the miracle. 

(Not to mention all of the healings that Jesus had already performed).

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Doubling-down on his position, Jesus mentions two Old Testament figures whom people recognized as being God’s instruments without having to perform miracles.

The Ninevites recognized God’s warning in Jonah, and the queen of the south recognized God’s wisdom in Solomon. 

In both cases, it was the person who was accepted as being a divine representative; not any miracle they performed. “And there is something greater than Solomon here,” Jesus says.

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So, what does this mean for us?

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If we want to understand God, then we must understand Jesus. Study his teachings. Live his Word. Emulate his heart. Place your life in his hands.

This would be the greatest “miracle” of all, which God desired for the crowds that day, and for us – not some physical healing or parting of the skies – but developing a friendship with his Son, “who has loved us and given himself for us.”

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Image credits: (1) Grace Evangelical Society (2) Christ and the Pharisees, Ernst Zimmerman (3) Pantocrator, Sinai

Martha and Mary: A Deeper Look.

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Gospel: Luke 10: 38-42

Jesus entered a village
where a woman whose name was Martha welcomed him.
She had a sister named Mary
who sat beside the Lord at his feet listening to him speak.
Martha, burdened with much serving, came to him and said,
“Lord, do you not care
that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?
Tell her to help me.”
The Lord said to her in reply,
“Martha, Martha, you are anxious and worried about many things.
There is need of only one thing.
Mary has chosen the better part
and it will not be taken from her.”

The Gospel of the Lord.

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Last week, we heard the Gospel parable of the Good Samaritan. Today, it’s the saga of Martha and Mary. It’s easy to conclude the message is simple: work is good, prayer is better.

But with scripture, there’s always another layer, a deeper lesson to be learned. 

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Let’s consider this from Martha’s perspective. While hosting the Lord, she loses her cool – and I’m glad she does. Often enough, we can be Martha, too.

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Imagine the scene.

Martha is moving around the kitchen for an hour or two, banging pots and pans, slamming drawers, cutting vegetables while mumbling under her breath, hoping to catch someone’s attention.

Seemingly after being ignored, she storms into the dining room red-hot mad finding her sister, Mary, who hasn’t lifted a finger; rather, she’s seated, listening attentively to Jesus.

Interrupting their conversation, Martha bursts out, “Lord, do you not care that my sister has left me by myself to do the serving?”

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Martha just made several mistakes.

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First, she accuses Jesus of not caring about her burdens. “Lord, do you not care?”

The disciples threw the same jab at Jesus while they were caught in a storm on the Sea of Galilee in the middle of the night. Waking a sleeping Jesus, they howl, “Lord, do you not care that we are drowning?”

After accusing Jesus of not caring for her, Martha blames someone else for her anxiety. Somehow, it’s Mary’s fault.

“My sister has left me by myself to do the serving!” This, she presumes is the problem.

Then Martha polishes off her cocktail of complaints by telling Jesus what to do. “Tell her to help me!”

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Have we ever sounded like Martha? Have we complained to Jesus, accusing him of not caring about us? Or being deaf to our cries?

And like Martha, have we told Jesus how to solve our problems? … “Lord, just do this, this, and this and I’ll be fine.”

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What’s the root cause of Martha’s anxiety, and at times, our own?

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She loses her focus. 

At least that day, Martha was motivated more by duty than by love.

“Martha, Martha,” Jesus says. “You are anxious and worried about many things.”

The root of the verb, “worry,” means, “to strangle; to seize by the throat; to tear.” 

Martha has choked all the love out of her work. In that kitchen, she sees a mess. Water boiling on the stove; vegetables half cut on the counter; flour on the floor; an absentee sister; and a whole lot of “things” to be done with so little time.

What Martha could’ve imagined instead was:

The Lord’s voice humming beneath the boiling water; God’s empty stomach soon to be filled by those vegetables; his impending gratitude for a meal well served; even Mary’s appreciation for allowing her to listen to Jesus while Martha prepared the meal.

Everything Martha did in that kitchen could’ve been done out of love.

Her work is sacred. The home is sacred. Most importantly, her guest is sacred. But she’s so focused on “what” she’s doing, as opposed to “why” she’s doing it, that Martha chokes all the joy out of hosting the Lord. 

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At times, aren’t we the same way? 

Maybe you do more housework than other members of your family; you tote the kids around town; you do more dishes; you attend more sports practices and games.

Maybe you care for an ailing spouse or parent. Another day of phone calls, doctor visits, and pharmacy runs can feel like a drain on our time.

Maybe you drive into the city and work full, tiring days, and sometimes come home feeling unappreciated by an otherwise busy household.

If we focus solely on the tasks that we’re doing – driving, cleaning, childcare – as opposed to why we are doing them, then, understandably, we can feel taken for granted; tired; frustrated. 

But when our primary motivation is love, the mundane suddenly becomes beautiful; fulfilling.

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Like Martha, has a blessing become a burden? Do I need to re-order my focus? 

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“Mary has chosen the better part, and it will not be taken from her,” Jesus says.

The better part isn’t necessarily long hours spent in prayer while neglecting other duties; the better part is recognizing that Christ is behind everything we do.

Whether sitting at his feet.

Or cooking in the kitchen.

He is there.

So, do everything in love.

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Image credits: (1) Shutterstock (2) Christ in the House of Martha and Mary, Vermeer (3) Pantocrator, Sinai