Easter

"Who are you looking for?"
John 20:1-18
Rev. Emily Labrecque, Westmoreland UCC
April 5, 2026

[Pray: Speak to us God for we are listening. Speak to us God for we are waiting for your voice. Speak to us God in our hearts and all around. Tell us what will be, what will be. Amen.]

Throughout the season of Lent we have been Seeking, as was our theme, by asking questions such as Who will you listen to? How do we begin again? Where are you headed? These questions have all pointed to various aspects of our Christian faith. With each passing week our exploration of these questions has provided us with new revelations about Jesus, our relationships, and the Empire in which both Jesus and we continue to struggle. With each passing week, we have drawn closer to our own sense of who Jesus is and how we experience him in our lives. And this Sunday, while it is Easter and is absolutely about Jesus, today is also about Mary and what we can learn about our relationship to God through her.

But before we get to the story, I feel the need to state the obvious.

Yes, it is Easter and yes we are celebrating the greatest news to ever hit the headlines in millenia. But let’s face it ... there’s a lot of bad news out there too. We are Easter People living in a Good Friday world. One Sunday of Easter doesn’t take away the thousands of starving people, the senseless wars, or the climate disruption that has ravaged our earth. You don’t need me to rehash the headlines, but it’s safe to say there’s an incomprehensible amount of suffering and struggle facing individuals and communities around the world. And, we can’t know how good the Good News really is, without recognizing the bad news too.

As humans, we are predisposed to the bad news. Evolutionarily, we are wired to worry – trained over time to pay attention to threats in order to survive. That wiring hasn’t gone away, which means even in 2026 our brains still react more strongly to alarming or negative information. This might be why so many of us find ourselves doomscrolling, as if staying glued to the news could somehow protect us. Researchers call this “negativity bias,” and the more we consume bad news, the more our brains reinforce the habit. But it’s not just the type of news that affects us – it’s the sheer volume. When we take in headline after headline, the weight of it all becomes overwhelming. Individual stories lose their meaning, and with it, our ability to respond. We shut down, disengage, or stop paying attention altogether, losing sight of the humanity behind the headlines and getting wrapped up in politics instead of people.

So what does any of this have to do with Mary finding the empty tomb?

As I was reading our Resurrection account from the Gospel of John this week, something stood out to me. I was struck by the number of moments Mary is given to feel hopeful about Jesus and yet, at every turn, she is clouded by her grief and her own negativity bias. Now, we certainly can’t blame her for that as we know grief does wild things to our hearts, minds, and bodies. But over and over in this story there’s hope and yet Mary cannot see it.

First, Mary comes to the tomb to find the stone rolled away. Of course, her reaction is to assume the worst: They’ve taken him! Even though Jesus has said time and again that he would Resurrect, she cannot believe it to be true. Surely something nefarious has occurred.

So she goes to get some other eyewitnesses because certainly someone else needs to corroborate her story. They too see he is gone and return home.

Then Mary, deep in grief now because not only has Jesus died but he’s missing, sees two angels in the tomb. Again, another opportunity to feel hopeful. But she cannot see beyond the bad news. And the angels ask, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She tells them that she’s sure someone has taken him for he’s not here.

Lastly, she sees who she suspects to be a gardener, because even though she sees him standing there, her grief, her sadness, cannot allow her to see that it is indeed Jesus. Another opportunity to be hopeful and yet ....

Finally Jesus calls her name and she recognizes, beyond belief, beyond a shadow of a doubt that it is indeed him. She didn’t see him, but she heard him. I can only imagine the relief that came over her at the sound of her own name. It’s as though hope isn’t always recognized by sight, but through relationships. Hope comes through being known deeply. Hope comes in moments of connection that cut through despair. Hope comes in hearing, somehow, that we are not alone. Hope sounds like being called by name.

And there, at the sound of her name, Mary realizes, he has risen, just as he said.

As the readers of this story, we know the ending. We know what Mary doesn’t. As Easter people we have the privilege to know that life conquers death, love casts out hate, and liberation overcomes fear.

So then why do we continue to live like Mary stuck in our fear and grief?

Being an Easter People in a Good Friday world means we have to look for the hope. We have to keep our eyes peeled and our hearts open and our ears tuned into the sounds of rejoicing. This isn’t about ignoring suffering – it’s about refusing to let suffering have the final word.

Hope is rarely delivered to us on a silver platter; but more often than not it is hidden in plain sight, just like Jesus at the empty tomb.

On Good Friday we read news stories from around the world that point to the horrors of genocide, racism, fascism, digital numbness, colonialism, and climate disruption. But if you listened closely, they were not all doom and gloom. There were a few moments of hope buried inside of them.

In our reading on Fascism, we heard about the life-giving community springing up in Minneapolis as a result of the ICE raids. There has been an extraordinary outpouring of cooperation, mutual aid, food delivery, neighborhood watch, and more. There is hope.

In our reading on Racism, we heard parallels to the 1950’s and 60’s segregation policies as it relates to the anti-DEI movement today. But the author also wrote, “today’s resistance may be a sign of shift: inclusion has gained enough ground to provoke a reaction.” There is hope.

And in our reading on digital numbness, we were reminded that we don’t have to disconnect completely, we just need to slow down and tune in to what truly matters – community, connection, and our own feelings. There is hope.

As my friend said the other day, “It’s a good thing I believe in the resurrection because *waves hands at everything.*”

My friend Leah, who is also a pastor, posts on her facebook page with some frequency the question: “Where did you find hope this week?’ It’s inspiring to follow along and read what people write. Feeding the birds, pruning the gooseberries, the peaceful passing of a loved one, taking 10 minutes to reset, kindness and care from a doctor, the colors of the trees as spring breaks forth. Each of these are moments of hope, moments of new life, of resurrection. Moments that remind us that death does not have the last word.

Mary, being both human and devoted to Jesus, found herself in the midst of such grief. She had a big heart that felt so deeply. We too are humans with big hearts devoted to following the way of Jesus. It pains us to see so much bad news in the world. But that is exactly why we are called to look for hope because there is always hope to be found.

And so I wonder –
who are you looking for?
Are you looking for more reasons to despair?
Or are you looking for glimmers of hope?
Because resurrection doesn’t always announce itself with angels.
Sometimes it looks like community showing up.
Sometimes it sounds like your name spoken in love.
Sometimes it feels like a small flicker of hope you almost missed.
So look for it.
Listen for it.
And when you find it –
be like Mary.
Run and tell.
Christ is risen.
Christ is risen indeed.

Amen