Easter Sunday, Year C, April 9, 2023

We pray in this Eucharist, that the risen Lord gives us grace, so that as we have died with him through our Lenten observances, we may also rise with him at Easter. Happy Easter!

DOCTRINE AND FAITH

(Acts 10,34a.37-43; Psalm 117 (118); Col 3,1-4 (1 Cor 5,6-8); John 20,1-9; Easter Sunday, Year C, April 9, 2023)

The choice of the liturgy which offers us only the first nine verses of the twentieth chapter of the Gospel of John is surprising. The account seems to stop at the most beautiful part because immediately after it, Evangelist John will recount the meeting of the Risen One with Mary of Magdala. And this is strange, all the more so, since the Sequence of the Mass, that is sung before the proclamation of the Gospel questions precisely Mary's experience: Tell us, Mary: who did you see on the way? What is the reason for this choice?  What sense can it have for us to listen to this page which tells us about the faith of the beloved disciple, who runs to the tomb together with Peter? Both enter the tomb and see the same things, but it is only of the other disciple, the beloved one, that it is stated that he saw and believed (John 20,8). And it is precisely on his experience of faith that the liturgy invites us today to pause our gaze. After all, this disciple's experience of faith is more similar to ours than that of the Magdalene. In fact, Mary heard herself called by name, she saw the Lord, she was able to hear him. Instead, what did this disciple see? Not the Lord, like Mary, but only signs: an empty sepulcher and cloths that had served to wrap the lifeless body of Jesus, left lying there (John 20,6), or rather collapsed there, because the body they had wrapped up was gone. The disciple sees only signs, yet they are enough for him to believe.

We are in the same condition as him: we believe not because, like Mary, we have heard and seen the Lord, but only because there are signs that make us pass from disbelief to faith. Precisely at the end of this chapter, Jesus will say it to Thomas, announcing to him the beatitude of faith: “Because you have seen me, you have believed; blessed are those who have not seen and have believed!”  (John 20,29). Such is the faith of the beloved disciple, which he believes even before personally meeting the Risen One. Signs are enough for him, as long as they are seen by listening to the word of God, opening his ear to the testimony of the Scriptures, of those Scriptures which, until then, he has not even understood and which, then, he is only beginning to understand in a new way. It is necessary to listen to see, and to see in a different way.

On this page of the gospel of  John, all the characters who enter the scene, see. But their seeing differ. Mary sees that the stone had been removed from the tomb. Her seeing, blepo in Greek is a verb that indicates bodily, physical, natural seeing; seeing with one's physical eyes. Peter too, a little later, sees or rather observes the clothes placed there (John 20,6). The verb used here is theorem from which the English term theory is derived. It is a more reflective way of seeing, in which one reasons, investigates, and questions itself. It is seeing not only with the eyes but also with the head. Peter sees and reasons, but does not come to understand. To believe it is not enough to see and reason.  Finally, it is the beloved disciple who sees and whose seeing gives rise to belief: He saw and believed (Jn 20,8). Here the verb changes again; this time and now, it is seeing not only with the eyes, like Mary, or with reason, like Peter, but it is a deeper seeing, with the heart one could say. The verb orao, used to indicate the seeing of John, is used of someone who has continued to dwell in the love of the Lord and to let himself be penetrated by this love as the entire narrative of the passion shows. It is the seeing of one who preserves the word of Jesus and lets himself be influenced by it, thus remaining in his love. Deep down, both Mary and Peter and this disciple see the same things: they see signs, but their way of looking is very different. It is, however, to be noted that these three verbs of seeing are not mutually exclusive, they should all necessarily be connected. One level of meaning should give rise to a better and more profound sense. What you see with your eyes must arouse a search, a reflection, it must lead to reason, to question, to investigate. This research must in turn go beyond itself; it cannot remain only in the horizon of reasoning. It must refract and resound in the depths of our interiority, in the deepest areas of our being, where there is not only our way of reasoning but where God himself lives; where the Spirit of him offers us a different perception of reality, attracts us, and convinces us. His is an inner persuasion that we don't know exactly where it comes from, but we still feel more convincing and reliable than any other truth to which we can come by trusting only in our efforts. And then, precisely at the intersection of these three verbs, of these three ways of seeing, faith is born: one sees and one believes.

Yes, Lord, we love you; but before that, we feel loved by you with a love without measure. And we remain in this love in which everything becomes a sign. The word we have heard, the bread we break in your memory, our being gathered in the joy of Easter, our friendship, the sun that illuminates this day just as the Paschal candle has illuminated our night: everything becomes a sign of your presence, alive and resurrected, among us. Yes, Lord, we love you. And by loving you, and knowing that we are loved by you, we too see and believe. + John I. Okoye

graphics  by Chukwubike OC