Very early in the morning when the human eye still struggles to see, resurrection comes. While it is still dark, God arises, greets the day and stirs up some new creation. God mixes up a hearty bowl of resurrection light, serving it all around. Will we join this feast of a new day?
While she was still in the dark, without hope, Mary comes to the tomb to search for hope.* She comes to confirm the current darkness and what does she find? Light! Resurrection means that even in the dark, the dark is already absent. Even in grief, if we can see beyond ourselves, comes a suspicious lightness of being. Mary runs to the other disciples, who in turn race to see for themselves this darkness that is suffused with light
Resurrection reminds us that darkness always contains more light than we immediately are able to see. Once our eyes adjust we begin to notice, very gradually, what—and who—is really there. What has seemed to be empty is actually filled: angels, a gardener, Jesus
What if we assume we will find always and only darkness? Might we end up missing the emerging contours of light? What a loss it would be if we resigned ourselves to seeing only loss, if we gave loss a preeminent place and more power than it deserves. Help me to see You even in your absence, and to recognize You when I do.
