Empty

“[They] bought spices, so that they might go and anoint him.” (Mk 16:1)
 
They seek to anoint the dead after the fact.  Why?  Everything done for the dead goes into the earth or the fire and perishes.  It all comes to nothing, practically speaking.  But this is not a practical matter.  In matters of the heart it is good to waste – time, money, aromatic oil poured out.
 
“Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” (Mk 16:4)
 
They went not knowing how, or if, they would be able to get to him.  A very large stone stood in their way: an immovable object.  But they didn’t say to themselves: “Well, what’s the point?  Why waste our money on spices, why waste our time going there to stand helpless before that stone?”  Yet they went, with their spices, hoping beyond hope.  Hoping for what?  Surely not for what actually transpired.  But it was a reckless hope nonetheless, a hope born of love.  And such a hope will not be disappointed – the stone is gone, as if shifted by an irresistible force, and there before them is the door.
 
“As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side.” (Mk 16:5)
 
Through the door and into the place where they laid him – a rock-hewn place, enclosed, dark.  This young man: haven’t we seen him before, leaving his linen cloth and running away naked, standing for all those who fled?  Now he is clothed and in his right mind, sitting in the tomb dressed in white, standing for the One who is not here.
 
He is not here.  Where is he?  Gone.
The paradigm shift from the Crucified to the Risen One is hard to take.
Alarm.  Amazement.  Trembling and bewilderment.  Fear.
 
He is not just gone, but gone ahead of you.
Mystery.  Newness.  Mission.  Challenge.
Do not be afraid.
 
“As the new sun rises from below, the grace of the Resurrection already casts its radiance over the whole world, a radiance reflected in the eyes of those who have watched for him since daybreak, a dawn that ushers in the day of eternity.  This is the day that knows no evening, the day whose sun will never set again. Only once has that sun gone down, and now once and for all it has ascended above the heavens, leading death captive in its train.”
(Guerric of Igny, Sermon 3 On the Resurrection)