And suddenly everything becomes quiet.

Joseph of Arimathea, a respected member of the Jewish council, goes to Pontius Pilate and asks for the body of Jesus. It is a bold move. A dangerous one. To associate yourself with a crucified man is to risk everything. He takes the body, wraps it, and places it in a tomb. A stone is rolled across the entrance. And for a moment, it really does seem like the story has come to an end. Saturday comes. A day of silence.

The disciples are scattered, afraid, confused. Everything they had hoped for appears to have collapsed. And if we are honest, that space is not unfamiliar to us. Moments where God feels absent. Where prayers seem unanswered. Where we are left waiting, not knowing what comes next. But in the mystery of God, silence is never the end of the story.

At first, it does not make sense. The women come expecting death, Mary Magdalene among them. They come to anoint a body. But instead, they are met with something entirely new. The stone is rolled away. He is risen. And then everything begins to move. Mary runs. She finds Peter and John and tells them the tomb is empty, and immediately they run. You can almost see it, the same urgency as when Mary went in haste to Elizabeth, the same movement as the father running to meet his son in the Parable of the Prodigal Son. But this time it is different. They run in fear, in confusion, in hope they do not yet understand. And somewhere along the way you have to imagine, the thought begins to form in their mind. What if it is true? What if everything He said was real? They reach the tomb. And in that moment, the silence of Saturday is shattered. This is the turning point of history, the moment where everything begins to come together, where all of salvation history, promise, prophecy, suffering, finds its answer.

And even then, it takes time to understand. The Resurrection is not immediately obvious, not instantly grasped. It unfolds, almost gently, through encounter. Jesus begins to appear, not in overwhelming displays of power, but in deeply personal ways.

To Mary Magdalene, who comes weeping to the tomb, thinking everything is lost. He speaks her name, and in that moment, everything changes. She recognizes Him, not just with her eyes, but with her heart. To two disciples walking along the road to Emmaus, just miles from Jerusalem. They were saddened, confused, and discouraged after all they had seen taken place. Jesus walks with them, explains the Scriptures, and only once Jesus sits with them and blesses and breaks the bread, are their eyes opened. To the apostles, gathered behind locked doors, afraid. He comes with a message. A message we echo today. “Peace be with you.”

And then there is Thomas the Apostle. Honest, skeptical, unwilling to believe without seeing. And Jesus meets him there too, not with frustration, but with invitation. “Put your hand here.” Even doubt is not rejected; it is transformed. Then to masses of people, to five hundred or so, according to Paul in a letter to the Corinthians.

The Resurrection reveals not simply that Jesus is alive again. It reveals that death itself has been defeated. That sin does not have the final word. That the worst thing is never the last thing. Everything that looked like defeat on the cross is now revealed as victory.

And yet, Jesus does not immediately ascend. He remains. He teaches. He prepares them. For forty days, He continues to appear and forms them into something new, not just followers, but witnesses. And then, at the appointed time, He leads them out. And in one final moment, He blesses them and ascends into heaven. It is Jesus taking our humanity into the very life of God. What He began in the Incarnation, He now brings to its completion. And it ends with mission. “Go.” Go and proclaim. Go and witness. Go and live differently because of what you have seen. Because if he is risen. That changes everything