Finding Jesus

Friday, Apr. 17, 2015

Reflecting on the Gospel readings for the first week of Easter, I realize that I identify with the disciples whose lives are told in those accounts.

At Easter was the story of Mary Magdalene, who on the first day of the week goes to the tomb where her Lord was buried. Finding it empty, she weeps. Then she sees a man she thinks is the gardener, and asks him if he knows where the body of Jesus has been taken.

We, who have heard this narrative so many times, know that the man is the risen Lord, but not until he calls Mary’s name does she recognize him. 

As I reflected on this reading I wondered how many times I have encountered Christ in my life without recognizing him, or if he has called my name and I didn’t hear him.

Similarly, as the disciples walk toward Emmaus, debating about what had occurred in Jerusalem a few days before, a man joins them and begins to interpret all the Scriptures relating to the crucifixion. Not until after he vanishes do they realize that man was Jesus.

As one retreat director said, wouldn’t that be a wonderful catechism to have heard! (Is it just me, or do you sometimes think the Bible doesn’t record all the best parts, like what Jesus said to the disciples during that walk; or what he wrote in the sand when the chief priests and elders brought to him when they accused the woman of adultery; or what Jesus, Moses and Elijah talked about at the scene of the Transfiguration?)

But I think back to how many times I’ve heard a homily and only later appreciated that Christ was speaking to me through it. 

The Gospel reading for Easter Monday recounted the scene of the two women at the tomb; they encounter an angel who tells them “Do not be afraid!”

These are words I take to heart, because this whole process of seeking Jesus the crucified intimidates me. I believe I have experienced God – not seen him, just felt his presence – and that encounter so overwhelmed me that I pushed him away. (Yeah, I know, not exactly the proper response to the divine, but the immediate emotion I felt was terror, and I wasn’t afforded the luxury of an angel appearing beforehand to let me know that I didn’t have anything to fear.)

Walking with the disciples this Easter week, it is reassuring to notice that they don’t always have the appropriate response to Jesus, either: They doubt when Mary and the other women announce the good news upon their return from the empty tomb, and the first time they see Christ after the resurrection they think he is a ghost.

I realize, too, that Jesus didn’t give up on the disciples. He kept appearing to them, and finally when they were fishing at the Sea of Tiberias they see him on the shore, and one of the disciples recognizes him. 

If that ever does happen to me – if I’m ever given the grace to recognize Christ in my life – I hope I have the courage to respond like Peter did, jumping out of the boat into the water in my rush to shore to greet him. Then we could have a meal by the fire, and I would receive the courage needed to go out into the world to do the work he asks of me, so that when I am called to the kingdom I will hear him say to me, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”