The Pursuit of The Empty Tomb
A Reflection on John 20:1a, 2-8
On that first Easter morning, Mary Magdalene discovered something
impossible: the stone had been rolled away from Jesus's tomb. In her shock and
confusion, she ran to tell Peter and John, and they immediately raced to see it
for themselves. John arrived first but hesitated at the entrance, while Peter rushed
straight inside. What they found was exactly what Mary had reported: the tomb
was empty, with only the burial cloth remaining. In that moment, seeing those
undisturbed linens, John believed. He didn't yet understand all the scriptures
that had foretold this, but something in his heart recognized the truth: death
had been conquered. This wasn't a truth discovered in crowds or through grand proclamations;
it came in the quiet intimacy of entering that tomb, of looking closely, of
allowing the evidence to pierce their hearts. Their personal encounter with the
empty tomb changed everything.
Today’s gospel reveals how faith is ultimately a deep personal encounter
with the living God. Peter and John had to run to that tomb themselves. Mary
Magdalene had to see it with her own eyes. No secondhand report, no matter how
reliable, could substitute for their own experience of that empty tomb. This is
precisely why our private prayer lives are not optional luxuries but vital
necessities for every Christian soul. It's in the silence of our own hearts, in
those moments when we stand alone before the Lord like John standing at the
entrance of that tomb, that faith becomes real and life-changing. We can attend
every Mass, participate in every devotion, surround ourselves with faithful
friends, but without having that intimate, personal relationship with Jesus in
prayer, we risk living on the surface of faith rather than in its depths. The
world constantly tempts us to measure our lives by our accomplishments, our status,
our net worth, and the approval of others, but these disciples teach us
something radically different, that once you understand it, there’s no going
back: What really matters is what we discover when we seek Jesus Himself and
place Him in the center of our lives as our top priority.
The burial cloths that John saw were very significant. They weren't
scattered or thrown aside as they would be if grave robbers had stolen the
body. Instead, they lay there arranged and undisturbed. This careful order
spoke of something miraculous, something beyond human explanation. In our
private prayer, God reveals similar details to us, truths that can only be seen
by those who take time to enter the tomb of their own hearts, to sit in silence
with Jesus at Eucharistic Adoration, to look carefully at what He's showing us.
Without this interior life of prayer, we become distracted by everything that
ultimately means nothing. Our careers will end, our achievements will be
forgotten, our earthly recognitions are ultimately pats on the back that last
only for a moment, our wealth can’t come with us over the barrier to our own
death, all will fade to dust, but our relationship with Jesus, that alone
crosses the threshold into eternity. The saints understood this completely.
They knew that every moment spent gazing at Jesus, loving Him, speaking to Him
in the quiet of prayer was the only truly significant investment they could
make. Everything else, no matter how it glitters in this world's eyes, is
irrelevant compared to knowing and loving Him.
"He saw and believed," Scripture tells us about John. This belief
was born not from reading about the Resurrection secondhand, not from someone
else's testimony alone, but from his own prayerful presence before the empty
tomb. Our faith, too, must be rooted in this kind of personal encounter. We
must each run to meet Jesus ourselves, enter into the mystery ourselves, and allow
our hearts to be pierced by His love ourselves. When we prioritize our private
prayer lives, whether through daily Mass, Praying the Rosary, reading Scripture
in silence, or simply sitting in His presence at Eucharistic Adoration, we're
doing what John did: we're positioning ourselves to see and believe. We're
acknowledging that no earthly achievement, no human approval, no worldly
success can compare to the privilege of knowing Jesus. In prayer, we shed the
illusion that we are the center of our own stories and discover the liberating
truth that Jesus is everything. He is the reason we exist, the purpose of our
lives, the only goal worth pursuing. When we grasp this, truly grasp it in the
depths of our being through faithful prayer, everything changes. We stop asking
"What can I accomplish?" and start asking "How can I love Him
more?" This is the transformation that awaits every soul willing to run to
Jesus, to enter that empty tomb, and to believe.
Questions to Consider:
How much time do you spend in genuine, private prayer with Jesus each day?
If you were to examine your life honestly, would your prayer time reflect that
He is truly your greatest priority, or do worldly pursuits receive more of your
attention and energy?
When you pray, do you come seeking an encounter with the living Jesus Himself,
or are you simply going through motions and routines? What would it mean for
you to "run to the tomb", to approach prayer with the urgency and
desire of Peter and John racing to see their risen Lord?
What earthly accomplishments, recognitions, or pursuits are you tempted to
focus on instead of Jesus? How might I deepen your interior life of prayer, help
you see these things in their proper perspective, a passing shadows compared to
the eternal reality of loving Him?
If you knew with certainty that only your relationship with Jesus would matter
in eternity, which it does, how might you restructure your daily life today?
What would you change about how you spend your time, energy, and heart?
©2025 James Dacey, Jr., OFS
