Third Sunday of Easter - There is something weird about the Resurrection

Jesus did not rise from the dead.

That statement should shock you. After all, we just celebrated Easter two weeks ago. What do I mean?

There are some biblical scholars—mostly of the more liberal persuasion—who don’t really believe in the resurrection. They argue, “What does it matter if a dead body comes back to life? What would that prove? What would that change?”

And in a way, they have a point. If the resurrection were merely that—a dead man coming back to life like Lazarus or the widow’s son—then what of it? Those people were raised, yes, but only to live again as they did before, and then die again eventually. What does that kind of resurrection mean?

But that’s not what Christ’s resurrection is.

So when I say, “Jesus didn’t rise from the dead,” I mean that He didn’t rise in the ordinary sense. His resurrection is something radically different.

We start to see that in today’s Gospel. If you’re paying attention, something strange begins to emerge in all the post-resurrection stories. Today it says: “None of the disciples dared ask him, ‘Who are you?’ because they knew it was the Lord.”

Have you ever had a moment with friends where you said, “I’m not going to ask Joe who he is because I already know it’s Joe”? Of course not—that would be absurd. But that’s what we hear in the Gospel. There’s something off, something unusual. Jesus is both familiar and unfamiliar.

When He appears to Mary Magdalene—someone who has known Him for years—she thinks He’s the gardener. She doesn’t recognize Him until He says her name. And on the road to Emmaus, two disciples walk alongside Him, talk with Him, listen to Him explain the Scriptures—and they still don’t know who He is. It’s only in the breaking of the bread that they recognize Him. And then—He vanishes from their sight.

What’s going on?

In that Emmaus story, we get a clue. Jesus explains the Scriptures, is revealed in the breaking of the bread, and then disappears. That sequence mirrors exactly what we do every Sunday: We hear the Word, then encounter Christ in the Eucharist. It’s almost like that story is the first Mass.

But even more striking is the response of the disciples: They run back to Jerusalem rejoicing. But… why? He just vanished! Shouldn’t they be disappointed, confused, upset?

The same thing happens after the Ascension. Jesus is taken up into heaven—and the apostles go back rejoicing. Pope Benedict XVI points this out: Why joy? He’s gone. Shouldn’t they be mourning?

But they’re not—because something has changed. These appearances after the resurrection are not just about proving that Jesus is alive again. Jesus is preparing them for a new way of living—a way of living by faith.

Think about it: Jesus could have stayed. He could have walked the earth for thousands of years, performed miracles, gone on world tours, made YouTube appearances. That would have settled the question of His divinity once and for all, right?

But He didn’t. He disappeared. He ascended. He left the Church in the hands of His apostles.

Why?

Because He was teaching them—and us—to live by faith. That’s the condition of our discipleship. Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.

Faith isn’t proof. It isn’t certainty. It isn’t a mathematical equation. Faith is trust. And trust is the foundation of love.

You can’t love someone you don’t trust. You can’t be in relationship with someone you don’t believe in.

So when Jesus invites us into a life of faith, He’s not setting a trap. He’s making love possible. He’s making a relationship possible.

That’s why He disappears—so we can begin to live not by sight, but by trust. That’s why the apostles go away rejoicing. Because they’ve realized: Jesus isn’t gone—He’s closer than ever.

Now He lives within them.

His life, His Spirit, His presence has entered into them. And they go out into the world on fire. They’re not afraid anymore. They’re not hiding. They’re not confused. They are filled with joy—and with power.

And that, brothers and sisters, is the meaning of the resurrection. That is what Easter is about.

Jesus didn’t simply come back to life. He entered a new kind of life—and now He invites us to share in that life. Today, in the Eucharist, we will receive His Body and Blood—not just to remember Him, but to be transformed by Him. He wants to rise in your heart. He wants to live in your life. He wants to change you from the inside out.

So let us ask Him today:

To share that risen life with us

To free us from our fears, distractions, and doubts

To fill us with the joy of His presence

And to send us out, like the apostles, to proclaim the good news:

Jesus Christ is truly risen—indeed.