Sunday Reflection - Easter Day 2026

Acts 10.34-43   Psalm 118.14-24  Colossians 3.1-4   John 20.1-18  

Many people choose to mark the beginning of this day by gathering outside - maybe on a hill - somewhere that you can see the horizon. Together, as they pray, they watch the first signs of dawn in the sky - gradual at first, but slowly the light creeping over the shadowy forms of the trees and objects around them until it becomes full daylight... and, with daylight, you forget that, a few minutes earlier, it was hard to make out what was in front of you, or to see it in its full colour.

So it is with John's account of Jesus' first appearance after rising again from the dead. It begins before dawn. Mary Magdalene makes her way to the tomb - in the other gospels, the other women who'd stood by Jesus in his death make their way there too, to see if they can perform any last act of respect to his dead body. She sees, to her distress, that the stone before the entrance has been removed. Her first thought is towards grave robbers... the final indignity.

She calls Simon Peter and, we assume, John himself, the disciple whom Jesus loved, to see fir themselves. John outruns Simon Peter and looks inside. Peter enters the tomb first, John follows and they both see the folded graveclothes... the burial cloth that had been folded round Jesus' head is folded up by itself, separately from the linen.

John sees and believes.... yet also comments, as the narrator, that none of them really understood the full significance of what they saw - " They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead." What does he believe at this point? That the body hasn't been stolen. That something has happened which indicates God at work in a way that he hasn't previously experienced. That he is confronted with a mystery, a unique event, for which he has no explanation, but where he can trust that God is in charge. The scripture that the early Christians often quoted to describe the resurrection is Psalm 16.9 - "Therefore my heart is glad and my tongue rejoices, my body also will rest secure, because you will not abandon me to the realm of the dead, nor will you let your faithful one see decay."

These are the first rays of sunlight, but the day is still breaking.

For Mary, this is all too much. She breaks down in tears. Not only has she witnessed the death of the person who had healed and restored her to herself, she now has nowhere to pay her respects to him or honour his memory - a very contemporary pain shared by those today whose loved ones have been murdered but who do not know where their bodies lie.

It is at this point that someone approaches her and asks her why she is crying.

'They have taken my Lord away', she said, 'and I don't know where they have put him.'

She can barely see this person through her tears and her grief... 'Woman', he says 'why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?'

Thinking he is the gardener, she says, 'Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.'

Jesus says to her, 'Mary'.

Here is the great ray of sunlight that marks the beginning of the day. Think of that moment of recognition that takes place within Mary. Think of Jesus' patience and stillness, giving her time to let the reality of this exchange sink in.

She turns towards him and cries out in Aramaic, 'Rabboni!' (which means Teacher).

The daylight is here. The darkness has gone. In that gentle but decisive encounter, new life has begun - a new life that will become the hallmark of the community which will grow around this meeting.

Jesus says, 'Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet returned to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, 'I am returning to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.' '

There is more for her to grasp - more for her to take in - more for her to learn. But there is enough for her to share, enough for her to tell her friends, enough to re-cast the whole of her life into a vision of hope and not despair.

This occurs not through an earthquake, not through an argument, not through a bolt of lightning - but through a tender voice, the mention of her familiar name from a person that she knows, the gentleness of one who understands her tears.

John's account - both of himself and of Mary Magdalene - gives us what David Ford calls in his latest commentary on John, "the dawning of faith in a questioning mind." (p. 397). He quotes this poem from R.S. Thomas:

There have been times

when, after long on my knees

in a cold chancel, a stone has rolled from my mind, and I have looked

in and seen the old questions lie

folded and a place by themselves, like the piled

graveclothes of love's risen body.

He quotes Thomas Gardner, writing about this poem: "John called this belief - that moment of recognition below the level of words, when the looming questions, as familiar and nearby as one's own body, simply dissolve and are replaced with what we can only call life or love... The mystery of the body has not been solved, the problem still remains, but its death-like grip has been set aside, replaced with life and breathing. Thoughts come later. This is as precise an account of the way belief occurs that I know." (John in the Company of Poets, 181-2, Ford, 398)

And this is consistent with the spiritual qualities that come from this encounter with the Risen Christ. Yes, Mary is full of joy. Yes, there is a sense that Jesus' life and teaching have not been in vain - and there is a sense of victory. But it's a victory communicated through Love and not Pride, through Gentleness and not Violence, through Humility and Service and not the flexing of Powerful Muscles and Force. Paul writes to the Colossians in the second of our NT readings, " Since, then, you have been raised with Christ, set your hearts on things above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things." (Colossians 3.1,2). What does he mean by that?

Just a few verses on, 3.11, he says "clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience." These are the qualities that arise from an encounter with the Risen Christ - which Jesus himself fosters within Mary Magdalene by encountering her in this way. Those encounters continue, as we will read together in the next few weeks this Easter season - in Thomas, who will not be convinced until he can touch the wounds of Jesus so that he can know it is really him, and in Peter, overcome with guilt at the way three times he had denied knowing Jesus the night of his arrest and trial. With the Risen Christ, there is engagement with our questions, and the free love and restoring power of forgiveness in our relationship with him.

There is something more. Yesterday, we remembered how the lifeless body of Jesus rested in the tomb. Mary Magdalen was among those who had witnessed Jesus’ death – and who had seen Joseph of Arimathea take the body down, wrap it in linen, and give it a decent resting place. They knew the reality of what they had witnessed.

This was transformed by someone or something entirely beyond their control or comprehension. The power that presented Jesus alive to Mary, and subsequently to the other disciples, was the same power that could bring new life to their hearts, their spirits, their lives – the power of forgiveness, the first effect of Christ’s rising again that Peter mentions in his words in Acts of the Apostles; the power of the word which brings hope, understanding, repair, healing and compassion in a relationship; the power of the act of kindness that ushers in justice, right-dealing and reconciliation; the power of repentance, which means the grace of being able to say sorry for my own wrongdoing and turning afresh to God for the strength to lead the life that he invites me to live, following the way he shows in Jesus.

This is a new creation. This is a renewed relationship. That the encounter takes place in a garden is a reminder of Eden, where human beings fell away from God's purposes in our pride and vainglory. We live in such a world today. We remember the needs of this world both at the foot of the empty cross and in the garden of the empty tomb, praying that we may each meet with the living God who comes to us as Jesus Christ, alive, risen from the dead, ready to engage with us today. He knows better than anyone the pain and the suffering of those who are bereaved, hurt, traumatised and displaced by the current conflicts. Each human being hurt is made in his image and is beloved of God. And each human agent of wrongdoing is called to repent, to turn their lives back to God first.

Use this day simply to thank and worship God for the gift of new life, for the power of hope, and the gentle but overwhelming victory of compassionate, forgiving love that he gives to us and asks us to share, one with another, and with all outside this place. Thank God for the gentle but decisive moments that bring us to put our trust in him. Thank God for such a great salvation, that means we can say, with the prophet, "Death, where is your sting? Death, where is your victory?"

It begins with me saying a prayer like this: “Father, thank you that your Son Jesus gave his life for the whole world by his death on the cross. That includes me. I’m sorry for where I know I’ve gone wrong. I turn to you. Come into my heart. Help me to receive your love. Show me if there is anything I need to repair. You promise forgiveness for all who are honest with you. Help me to receive your love and to turn my footsteps into your path. I can only do it with your help. Amen.”  

Steve