IT WAS STILL DARK, EARLY IN THE MORNING of the first day
of the week: a Sunday, close to 2,000 years ago. To most of the world, the sun
would rise on a day no different from any other. Only a handful of people would
later realize that something of importance had occurred. But those few people
understood that overnight, the world had changed.
Three pious women rose early to bear spices and burial
ointments to the grave of their departed teacher and friend. But approaching
the tomb, they sensed that something was wrong. The grave was open: its
sealing-stone pushed away. And inside the tomb they found, not a dead body, but
a mysterious figure—an angel—who beckoned them to draw closer. Here is how St.
Matthew tells the story:
The angel said to the women: "Do not be afraid. For I know that you are looking for Jesus,
who was crucified. He is not here. He has risen-just as he said! Come and see the place where he lay. Then go quickly and tell his disciples, ‘He
is risen from the dead...'" (Mt 28:5-7).
Some 2,000 years later, we use the very same words to
remember the miracle of that Sunday morning: Krisdos haryav ee merelotz! Christ
is risen from the dead! And as
Christians we celebrate Easter to mark the most important, most joyous, most
glorious day in all of human history.
But think again of what it must have been like on that
first Easter Sunday. In the darkness before dawn, when the pious oil-bearing
women set off on their journey to our Lord's tomb, things must have looked very
different.
Two nights earlier, the women had watched in horror as
Jesus endured the torments of crucifixion. They had stood in silent witness, as
his lifeless body was brought down from the cross, wrapped in a burial shroud,
and placed in a tomb. All their hopes and dreams had come to ruin. Their Master
was dead. His mission was over. The
salvation of mankind had failed. The women approached the tomb that morning,
fully expecting to find Jesus buried within.
But—he was not there.
Instead, the women discovered that their greatest hope
had come to pass: "Christ is risen from the dead!"—just as he had
promised.
Imagine the overwhelming joy, the incredible sense of
hope, the feeling of limitless possibility that swept over the women at that
moment. They must have been bursting with excitement—eager to share this news
with others.
And indeed it was these women—the first witnesses to the
resurrection—who brought the Good News to the disciples. Through them, the
Gospel mission began: they were the first link in a great chain of evangelism
that would eventually encompass the world, and transform our own homeland with
its message of love, hope, and victory over sin and death.
A beautiful service of the Armenian Church shows how very
close we still are to these events, despite the obvious gulfs of time and
space. Taking place in the early hours of Easter Sunday, the service is
dedicated to the oil-bearing women: the "Myrophores" in Greek, or
"Yughaperitz Ganaykh" in our own tongue. The Yughaperitz service
culminates in a reading from the Gospel of St. John (Jn 20:1-18), which begins
"Early on the first day of the week, while it was still dark..." and
ends with Mary Magdalene's ecstatic announcement to the disciples: "I have
seen the Lord!"
And here is the astonishing thing: History indicates that
this service originated in the early centuries of the Christian movement, in
Jerusalem itself—perhaps at the very site of Christ's tomb!—where the
celebrants would gather at dawn, just as the women had done, to re-enact their
world-changing discovery. Through this beautiful ritual, preserved over many
centuries by the Armenian Church, the voices from that original Easter Sunday
echo down to us, as if for the first time.
It is surely significant that the oil-bearing women held
no exalted or privileged status in the world of their day. Indeed, even the disciples refused to believe
them when they came to the upper room, breathless, to relate what they had
witnessed. Yet it proved that these women, even from their humble station, were
the ones who had seen the truth with clear eyes. Certainly it was their
humility, their willingness to rise before dawn to perform a ministry of love
and respect at a friend's grave, that placed them in the right place to receive
this truth. Perhaps it was the same attitude of humble ministry to our Lord
which prepared their minds to believe in it, and prepared their hearts to share
it.
Armenian history is filled with similar stories of
people—often from the most powerless and marginalized stations of their
surrounding societies—who saw and heard; who believed and shared; and
ultimately who transformed their worlds from within. That is the power and the
promise that genuine Christian ministry—the "Ministry of the
Faithful," as we have been calling it in our Diocese this year—can bring
to our churches and communities, to our families and our individual lives. It
starts with those simple announcements of joy and amazement: "He is not
here; he has risen!" "I have seen the Lord!" Or in the words of
our beautiful Easter greeting:
Krisdos haryav ee merelotz! Orhnyal eh harootiunun Krisdosee!
Christ is risen from the dead! Blessed is the resurrection of Christ!
This Easter, let us proclaim those words loudly, with
conviction-to everyone we meet. Even "while it is still dark," let us
pierce the darkness with our song of joy. And through it, may our Risen Lord
draw forth the transformative ministry that truly brings Light to the world.
With prayers,
Archbishop Khajag Barsamian
Primate
Easter 2012
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