There is something deeply human about this Gospel. It does not begin with triumph or celebration, but with tears. Mary Magdalene stands outside the tomb, weeping. The Resurrection has already happened, but she does not yet understand it. In her heart, there is only loss.
And that is where many of us find ourselves at times.
We believe, we hope, we pray but there are moments when God feels distant, when answers seem hidden, when what we expected from Him doesn’t match what we are experiencing. Mary’s grief is not a lack of faith; it is love searching for the One it cannot yet see.
Even when the angels appear and ask her, “Why are you weeping?”, she remains focused on what she thinks she has lost: “They have taken away my Lord…” Her words are striking, my Lord. Even in sorrow, her love is personal. This is not just a teacher or a prophet to her; this is someone she belongs to.
Then comes one of the most profound moments in all of Scripture.
Jesus is standing right in front of her, but she does not recognize Him.
How often does this happen in our own lives? Christ is present, in our struggles, in unexpected moments, even in the ordinary and yet we fail to recognize Him because we are looking for Him in a different way. Mary expected a body to mourn; she did not expect a living Lord to encounter.
It is only when Jesus calls her by name “Mary” that everything changes.
This is not just recognition; it is a personal encounter. The Good Shepherd calls His sheep by name, and they know His voice. In that one word, her sorrow turns to joy, confusion to clarity, death to life. She responds, “Rabboni!” Teacher, yes but more than that, it is a cry of recognition, love, and belonging.
This moment reminds us of a central truth of our Catholic faith: Christianity is not just about teachings or traditions, as important as they are, it is about a living relationship with Christ. He knows each of us personally. He calls each of us by name. And often, it is in our lowest moments that we are most ready to hear Him.
Yet, what Jesus says next may seem surprising: “Do not hold me…”
Mary wants to cling to Him, to hold on to this moment, to keep Him as she knew Him before. But Jesus gently invites her to something greater. The relationship is no longer limited to physical presence. Through His Resurrection and soon His Ascension, He is opening a new way of being with His people, one that reaches beyond time and place.
This is where the Church enters.
Through the Sacraments especially the Eucharist we encounter the same risen Christ, not as a memory, but as a real and living presence. Mary is asked to let go of holding onto Him in one way so that she and all of us can receive Him in a deeper, more universal way.
And then, she is sent.
“Go to my brethren…”
Mary Magdalene becomes the first witness of the Resurrection, the one who carries the message to the apostles. In Catholic tradition, she is often called the “Apostle to the Apostles.” This is not a small detail. It shows us that encountering Christ is never meant to end with us, it must be shared.
She goes and proclaims: “I have seen the Lord.”
Not “I have understood everything.” Not “I have all the answers.” Simply, “I have seen Him.”
In today’s world, this is exactly what is needed. We live in a time where many are searching, searching for meaning, for hope, for something real in a world that can often feel empty or overwhelming. Arguments alone rarely change hearts. But a genuine witness, a life that reflects an encounter with Christ, can.
This Gospel invites us to ask ourselves:
Where am I weeping in my life?
Am I failing to recognize Christ because I am expecting Him in a certain way?
Do I allow Him to call me personally, to speak into my life?
And most importantly, can I say, like Mary, “I have seen the Lord” through how I live?
Easter is not just a season of celebration, it is a season of encounter.
Christ is risen. He is alive. And like Mary Magdalene, we are invited not only to find Him, but to recognize Him when He calls our name, and to go out and share that truth with the world.
It is something we are called to live.