A Reflection for Friday of the Octave of Easter
Find today’s readings here.
“When it was already dawn, Jesus was standing on the shore.”
It was during Easter of 2020, in the middle of the pandemic lockdown, that I realized that Mary Magdalene had headed out to the tomb on that first Easter expecting only sorrow and sadness, still deep in grief for the loss of her friend and teacher. The line in that Gospel that came to encapsulate that realization was that Mary came to the tomb “while it was still dark.”
In today’s Gospel, Jesus appears to the disciples as they are out on the boat, after a frustrating and empty night of fishing, “when it was already dawn.”
The distance between “still dark” and “already dawn” captures what can be a challenging and confusing aspect of the Easter season. Unlike Mary, going to the tomb in the dark, we know that the tomb is empty; we go through Lent and into Easter expecting the Resurrection. But like the disciples in the boat, who have already encountered the resurrected Jesus several times over, we can sometimes fail to recognize him even when the sun has already dawned.
Often, as much as I want to be bowled over by the joy of Easter, life can seem just as challenging, clouded and confusing in this Octave of Easter as it did during the long trek through Lent. Wars are still ongoing, political crises and divisions continue to get deeper, people are still struggling and it just doesn’t feel much different than it did before Easter. Yes, Jesus has been raised and we have sung a resounding “Alleluia”—and thanks be to God for the joy we share on Easter, especially as we welcome new members into the church—but we are still waiting for the Resurrection to change us and the world as fully as it promises to.
In other words, while today’s Gospel is saying it is already dawn, I’m not quite sure I believe it yet. I feel like I’m still waiting for the sun to crest over the horizon.
So I take some solace from the fact that the disciples, even after their direct encounters with the risen, don’t immediately recognize him either as he stands on the shore. The newness of resurrected life seems to be hard to grasp firmly, no matter how clearly you encounter it or how deeply you believe it.
And what resolves this, for the disciples and for us, is not having it explained again or squinting more carefully at the figure on the beach. What resolves it is the invitation to try again, casting the net one more time. What resolves it is the exuberant willingness, with Peter, to jump out of the boat and into the water, even if we don’t get back to shore much quicker than the boat does anyway. What resolves it is the invitation to come and have breakfast.
While it was still dark, Jesus had already been raised and the tomb already stood empty. When it was already dawn, the disciples hadn’t realized it yet, and neither perhaps have we, but Jesus was already there with them, calling them in.
