This sermon was preached on Easter morning at San Andrés on April 6, 2026. It was originally written in Spanish, and the Spanish version can be found below the following English translation. Este sermón fue predicado para el servicio de Pascua en San Andrés Episcopal, 6 de abril de 2026. Fue escrito originalmente en español y luego traducido. La versión español esta abajo el inglés.
We proclaim and sing because, even though the disciples thought that death was the end of the story—that their hopes had ended with the crucifixion of their friend and teacher Jesus—they discovered that morning that the forces of sin, death, and evil do not have the final word in this life.
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This message, this cry, takes us back to that dark morning two thousand years ago, when several women went to visit the tomb where the Lord had been laid and discovered it empty.
Each Gospel tells the story of that morning a little differently. But all—or almost all—agree on something important: it was the women who followed Jesus who dared to go to the tomb and who found it empty.
In the Gospel of John, which we heard today, it says that Mary Magdalene discovered it. She returned to the disciples with the news: “They have taken the Lord out of the tomb, and we do not know where they have laid him.”
Then Peter and the beloved disciple run to the tomb and confirm that it was empty. The Gospel says that the beloved disciple believed, though he did not yet fully understand what had happened. Then they returned to the others.
But it is Mary Magdalene who has the first experience of the risen Christ. And here there is an important detail: in John’s Gospel the story begins with Mary Magdalene and it also ends with her. She is the first to discover the empty tomb and the first to encounter the risen Lord.
The Gospel tells us that when the other disciples left, Mary stayed outside weeping. She looked into the tomb and saw two angels, who asked her, “Why are you weeping?”
Then she turned and saw a man, whom she thought was the gardener. But when he spoke her name—“Mary!”—she recognized that it was Jesus.
In her joy she wanted to hold on to him. Imagine losing your friend, your teacher, your everything, and suddenly discovering that he is alive.
But Jesus tells her not to hold on to him, to let him go, because he must still go to the Father. Because Jesus is always on the move.
The Gospel does not tell us exactly what words Mary used when she returned to the other disciples. But I like to imagine that she arrived shouting something like this:
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The final verses of the hymn help us think about what this morning means for us today. The hymn says:
A few days ago I was talking with Toni, and I told him that even though it is sometimes difficult to gather in this small space, I think I will miss some things when we return to the larger sanctuary—though I really do hope that day comes soon.
Because here something special can be felt. There is closeness, affection, a real sense of community.
During these past forty days we have experienced many things together. We have spoken about forgiveness, about the Sabbath, about prayer. On Maundy Thursday we made unleavened bread for communion. We listened to reflections from members of the community on the seven last words. And last night we baptized Jorge Matthew in a long but very beautiful service.
All of this fills me with hope. Even though we are a small community, and sometimes a little tightly crowded in this room, San Andrés is a light in the darkness.
Because we live in a world with much violence, much war, and much cruelty. As the preacher Nick Gordon said last night, sometimes our world seems like a valley of dry bones. We have seen hatred toward immigrants. The crucifixion of the innocent still happens in our time.
And yet communities still exist that bear witness to another reality: communities of the Resurrection. Communities of deep joy, where love, care for one another, and faith are lived out.
And notice this: all of this is possible because there was a man who entered the world and divided history in two—before and after. He came with no wealth, only with words of life, with actions that transformed hearts, and with parables that changed the way people saw things. A man who lived, who was crucified… and who three days later rose again.
What joy that this event has gathered us here today. What joy that Jesus lived and rose again. And so we join with Mary Magdalene, Christians around the world, and with believers of every generation, to proclaim:
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