Easter Sunday 2026

John 20:1-18

Rev. Neli Miranda

 

            “I have seen the Lord!” Mary Magdalene proclaims on Easter morning. Her proclamation comes after a journey that begins very early, “while it was still dark.” Through these words, the evangelist John evokes not only the hour of the day but also the darkness of Mary’s desolation. Her beloved Rabbi has been brutally executed, and it seems that all hope has come to an end. She has faithfully followed Jesus to the foot of the cross and to the place where he was laid. Now, at dawn, her journey resumes: she comes to complete the burial rituals, to say a final goodbye, and to begin imagining how life might continue without him. In this way, Mary embodies a deeply human experience—the overwhelming grief that follows the loss of a loved one, when consolation is sought through gestures and rituals that help us make sense of absence.

            Her anguish deepens when she sees that the stone has been removed from the tomb. Grave robbery was indeed a known concern in first-century Judea, which makes Mary’s conclusion plausible: someone has taken the body. The darkness through which she walks prevents her from perceiving that the removed stone is, in fact, a sign of life. Her eyes, clouded by a veil of tears, cannot yet discern what God is unfolding before her. The empty space is not yet good news; it is only loss intensified. From a Johannine perspective, signs require faith to be understood, and Mary has not yet reached that point.

            How, then, do we interpret the “removed stones” in our own lives? Do we read them as signs of absence, or as openings through which new life may emerge?

            Desperate, Mary runs to Simon Peter and to the other disciple, “the one whom Jesus loved,” as the Gospel describes him. Her words reveal her interpretation of events: “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.” She is still searching for a body, not anticipating the resurrection. The two disciples run to the tomb, where they find only the linen wrappings lying there. They, too, are unable to read the signs of life in the empty tomb. The text itself clarifies: “for as yet they did not understand the scripture, that he must rise from the dead” (John 20,9). Thus, like Mary, they conclude that someone has taken Jesus’ body. Having confirmed the absence, they return home, still unable to grasp the deeper meaning of what has occurred.

            Up to this point, there is no explicit proclamation of good news—only an empty tomb and confused disciples. The two disciples go away perhaps burdened by uncertainty and fear, while Mary remains. Her persistence is significant: she stays at the place of loss, weeping, yet unwilling to abandon her search.  Her love and devotion will guide her to the glorious Easter!

            As she weeps, Mary dares to look into the tomb and sees two angels, two messengers of God, who ask, “Woman, why are you weeping?” Her response confirms that her understanding has not changed, she continues looking for a corpse: “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him” (20,13). At this moment, the risen Jesus stands before her, yet she does not recognize him… she is not looking for the living one. Human experiences of death often lead us toward resignation and fatalism, blinding us to the possibility of transformation. Yet the resurrection proclaims that death does not have the final word.

            Why do we keep looking for a corpse while the empty tomb proclaims life?

            “Woman, why are you weeping? Whom are you looking for?” Jesus asks. Mistaking him for the gardener, Mary pleads, “Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away” (20,15). Her devotion is evident, yet it remains oriented toward a dead body. Everything changes when Jesus calls her by name: “Mary!” Immediately, she responds in Hebrew “Rabbouni!”—my beloved teacher! What an encounter!   This encounter reveals that Jesus, the good shepherd, knows each of his disciples by name, and relationship precedes understanding. Here, Mary moves from searching for the dead to encountering the living Jesus.

            After this encounter, Mary Magdalene becomes the first witness to the resurrection and is sent to announce it to the others: “I have seen the Lord!” Her grief is transformed into joy and into mission. The Gospel does not dwell on the disciples’ immediate response; yet Mary’s joyful proclamation resonates across time and space, continuing to echo throughout Christian spirituality. She is rightly called the “apostle to the apostles,” emphasizing the centrality of her witness. Her announcement lives among us even today, as we continue to hear her proclamation: “I have seen the Lord!”

            Dear sisters and brothers, Easter morning invites us into this same journey. We are called to approach the tombs in our own lives, to notice the stones that have been removed, and to confront the fears that dwell within us. The empty tomb challenges us to reconsider our assumptions and to remain open to God’s surprising action. Like Mary, we are invited to hear the voice of the risen Christ calling us by name, transforming our grief into hope. And finally, we are sent forth to proclaim with conviction and joy: “I have seen the Lord!” Amen.