Easter Sunday C (Is 65:17-25; Ps 118:1-2, 14-24; Acts 10:34-43; Lk 24:1-12)

This past week, there was a tragic incident in Paris. The iconic spire at the top of Notre Dame Cathedral was burnt down. What was it like for you to see it collapsing? Have you been to the cathedral? As a person who hasn’t been there yet, at first it was quite hard for me personally connecting with the place though in my head I knew I was supposed to say and be disappointed and saddened by the loss of this historic church. I could very well think about feeling sad about this tragedy but was not able to empathize with those who really felt sad and upset. 

But I realized this thought of mine wasn’t too considerate and well-reflected after the conversation I had with my priest colleague. She told me a story about her friend who grew up in a poor neighborhood in Pennsylvania. In this town, most of the residents were coal miners. You can imagine that rural area was impoverished and unlovely. In this town, however, there was this beautiful church that didn’t actually fit in that surrounding. How was it possible that there was this magnificent and gothic looking parish in that poor neighborhood? Of course, the diocese didn’t pay to construct it. The church’s parishioners built it with their own financial resources for decades. You might think that a blood sucking priest must’ve forced these poor people to offer more money to the church. But this was done voluntarily. So, my friend asked her friend why. Why would these poor miners do such a thing? My priest colleague’s friend answered, “There was nothing beautiful in my house and others’ houses as well as our entire town. The church was the only beauty that we had and could have.” For them, the church was their only beauty which was theirs and to which they belonged. (I think this applies to us. Who has stained glass windows at home?)

Paris is like New York City where the homeless and the poor are commonly seen and often neglected. I imagine for them Notre Dame Cathedral was like this beautiful church as it was for the miners in Pennsylvania. The cathedral may have been the only beauty that they can have. It may have been their spiritual home where they could sleep, rest, pray, and feel loved by God. For them, it is not that a historic site that tourists stop by is gone, but the place of worship and love. And the collapse of the top of Notre Dame Cathedral, the collapse of the only beauty that they can have must’ve broken their hearts. What is the beauty that you have in your heart? What is that place of beauty you belong to? And who is that someone that reminds you of the beauty of your life? Who is that person that can tell you that you’re loved, cared, and good enough as you are? 

The death of Jesus for the women at the tomb in the gospel lesson that we hear this Easter Sunday morning is the collapse of the beauty that they found in Jesus. He is for them the only beauty, the only hope, the goodness and love of God that they ever experienced in their lives. They talked together with Jesus, walked together, shared meals together, and decided to commit their whole lives to him, for they were forgiven, healed, accepted, and loved by that divine beauty incarnate. And that only beauty is now gone. He is unfairly and falsely executed, crucified, and died. Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women are grieving for this loss of the only beauty they ever had. Jesus is no longer with them but his corpse is laid in the tomb. They cannot yet let go of him, trying to hold every bit of traces of his presence. So they come to his tomb. 

But they find something is wrong. The stone that is supposed to close the tomb is rolled away. Someone must have done this and entered the tomb. The women go in and find the body of their lost beauty is gone. Before they’re about to get upset over the missing of the body, they see two strangers in dazzling clothes. They’re terrified, not even able to look up to their faces. Imagine you see someone in the tomb. For me, entering into the tomb is already horrifying but seeing someone in there can cause a heart attack. 

Fortunately, these are not just random strangers or thieves who stole Jesus’s body. They are messengers to tell them something that Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and other women completely forgot. These messengers in dazzling clothes, which we can call them angels (which literally means a messenger), are not telling them some new information about Jesus. The angels are there to remind them of Jesus’s saying. So they tell them, "Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen. Remember how he told you…” I’m troubled with their saying of “Remember how he told you.” It’s not “Remember what he told you.” 

This may be a strange translation of the Greek term ὡς (hōs) which can also mean “as.” But this is something that we can reflect on. “How” is more of a manner or a way things are done. So, remembering how Jesus told them about his death, crucifixion, and resurrection is to remember the way he told them. What way did he tell them to remember about his death, crucifixion, and resurrection? Every Sunday, we hear the saying of Jesus to remember at the Eucharist. “Do this in remembrance of me.” This can simply mean, “Do this act of the Eucharist when you gather together to remember me, to invoke my presence.” This is the way he taught his disciples how to remember. And this is the way he taught us how to remember Jesus’s death and resurrection. 

For the women at Jesus’s tomb, his death is the collapse of the only beauty they have had. The empty tomb for them, when they first saw the angels, is not the sign of the resurrection, but of another loss. Yet, they are told to remember Jesus is risen. The tomb is empty, and it is no longer a tomb but becomes the altar where Jesus is present, not just to Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James and other women but also to us and therefore to the entire world. 

In our lives, we experience the collapse of the beauty, significant losses of those in whom we find beauty, love, and compassion. The collapse of Notre Dame Cathedral is a recent example of this loss for many in the world, especially the poor, the homeless, and the lost. Yet, for us Christians, this collapse or loss is not the end of the story. Archbishop of Paris, Michel Aupetit’s saying reminds us of this new reality that God has created through the crucified and risen Christ. He says regarding Notre Dame Cathedral, “Why was this beauty built? What jewel was this case meant to contain? Not the Crown of Thorns … but a piece of bread that we believe is the Body of Christ.” (http://www.ncregister.com/daily-news/a-sign-of-gods-presence)

So today, on this Easter Sunday, we are here to celebrate God’s new creation, new reality, new life in the resurrection of Jesus and to meet him. As we look at the altar, we see the empty tomb. In that empty tomb, on that altar, the crucified and risen Christ is present to us and to the world. And this Jesus that we cannot visibly see with our eyes yet partake of his body and blood in our souls and bodies is risen once for all in all our losses, collapses, pains, and sufferings where death seems to prevail. Partaking of Jesus’s body and blood is not only how we remember his death and resurrection but also how we become part of him, how we become his body and blood for the life of the world. May all of you see Jesus Christ, especially in times and places where you feel let down, alone, isolated, and hurt. Whatever beauty we think we lost is never lost in his resurrection. My friends, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia! In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.