Luke 23:55-56, 24 1-11 [New Jerusalem Bible]
Meanwhile the women who had come from Galilee with Jesus were following behind. They took note of the tomb and how the body had been laid.
Then they returned and prepared spices and ointments. And on the Sabbath day they rested, as the law required.
On the first day of the week, at the first sign of dawn, they went to the tomb with the spices they had prepared. They found that the stone had been rolled away from the tomb, but on entering they could not find the body of the Lord Jesus. As they stood there puzzled about this, two men in brilliant clothes suddenly appeared at their side. Terrified, the women bowed their heads to the ground. But the two said to them, ‘why look among the dead for someone who is alive? He is not here; he has risen. Remember what he told you when he was in Galilee that the son of man was destined to be handed over into the power of sinful men and be crucified, and rise again on the third day. And they remembered his words
And they returned form the tomb and told all this to the Eleven and to all the others. The women were Mary of Magdala, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James. And the other women with them also told the apostles but this story of theirs seemed pure nonsense, and they did not believe them.
Reflection:
This week, Holy week, is the most sacred in the Christian tradition. From Jesus' procession with all his followers into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, to the last supper with his disciples, betrayal and arrest on Maundy Thursday, his crucifixion and death on Good Friday, we come to the scripture reading for today. Joseph of Arimathea takes down Jesus’ body from the cross, wraps it in a shroud and puts it in a tomb “hewed in stone.” The women who had traveled all the way from Galilee with Jesus witness.
Then the women prepare the spices and ointments to care for the body of one who is deceased, until, as observant Jews, they rested for the sabbath. Holy Saturday is a day of grieving… all those followers, disciples and friends who had loved Jesus dearly as a man, as a teacher, as a religious leader must have been devastated, each grieving in their own way. The women left to finish their traditional funeral care for the body at the first sign of dawn, but they are met by an empty tomb, confusion. Two angels give them the surprising, mind blowing news, that He was risen.
All these women go to tell the disciples what they have seen, but (and I love this part) “this story of theirs seemed pure nonsense, and they did not believe them”. It’s neither the first time nor the last that people haven’t believed women.
As we gather this Easter morning, some of us are Christian, others were raised in different traditions or none at all. We come with a diversity of perspectives on this festival day. Historically, while our Universalist congregations tended to be pretty traditional Christians who believe in a loving God, Unitarians have long questioned the divinity of Jesus, and have often sought a religion without miracles. Thomas Jefferson once published a bible where he literally cut out all the miracles with a pair of scissors. Unitarian, transcendentalist Preacher Theodore Parker preached long[i] ago that it doesn’t matter whether or not you believe in miracles to be faithful, to lead a good life. Born and raised in that Unitarian tradition, I have long sympathized with Doubting apostle Thomas, we did not believe that Jesus had returned until Thomas put his hands on the wounds Jesus suffered during the crucifixion. But Doubt, my friend Gloria says “is an invitation to look around, to explore.” 
I take comfort in the resurrection of the earth in Springtime. This is a resurrection you can feel in the air, hear in the birdsong, and see the grey cold earth matted down under the winter snow and ice show the first signs of color, as spring emerges from “seeming death.” Every year the snow drops, and then the crocuses, and then the green grass, and the buds on the trees, and just yesterday the first daffodils and forsythia blooms. But I, like anyone who has lived in the North East, have learned to be skeptical of that first “fools spring” which, while delightful, is inevitably followed by a snowstorm and bitter cold. Nevertheless, spring does, eventually, come. I have seen it with my own eyes.
But what happened in that Tomb is a mystery. I don’t mean the kind of mystery that some good detective work can solve, I mean the kind of mystery that we will never understand fully. As UUs we don’t always do well with mystery. We love science, and reason, but the life of the spirit brushes up against mystery. There is mystery at the edges of life and death. What happens beyond this life we know. Mystery is sometimes a name for the divine, because how could our human minds comprehend what is beyond us?
As much as we study the world around us, there is so much we don’t know, and I believe there are things we will never know because their very nature is beyond our understanding. If we are going to be present with all of life, especially in the depth of life where our soul is rooted, we are going to come up against mystery.
Those women went to the tomb not seeking a miracle, but to do the hard and sacred work of caring for the body of a loved one who has died. On Easter we sing “alleluia” but I don’t think those women felt “alleluia” when they stood at the tomb, when they saw the body was missing. I imagine that even when the angels spoke to them they felt confused and bewildered. They definitely didn’t feel “alleluia” when they tried to tell the story of this mystery to the apostles and the men didn’t believe their story. On that first Easter Sunday at the empty tomb, those women who cared deeply for Jesus didn’t yet know what we know today, about the thousands of years that Jesus’s teaching and spirit have survived.
When, I wondered, and how did their hearts finally turn to joy? That is a mystery too.
“I have come through too many dark placeswrites the poet Nell Aurelia
To waste any time censoring what is permitted
To bring me joy”
We have surely been through some dark places, and we need joy. Joy is part of what we are working for, what we are fighting to protect. Joy is resistance. Not an easy joy, but the joy of birdsong after winter, the joy of resurrection after seeming death. The joy of ordinary people gathering on a Sunday morning, giving and receiving love and care. If joy is available to you today, don’t let cynicism keep it down, The world needs your joy. Not a joy that skips over hard things, but the deep joy of one who has seen the realities of this hard world and, in one mysterious moment, remembers what it is to be full of life.
Today as we sing our alleluias, as we sing the joy of the season, like a bird singing their dawn song in the first rays of sun, I invite you simply to be present to the mystery of life, of death, of resurrection. And today, to open your heart to the joy of this precious life we share.
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