Sunday's Gospel Reading tells us that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary go at dawn carrying grief, unanswered questions, and love that refuses to stay home. They are not celebrating yet. They are simply faithful enough to keep moving.
I have argued for thirty years that a jeepney is a place where ordinary people with different stories, struggles, pains, and hopes are brought into conversation. Theology happens not in perfect silence or comfortable spaces, but in ordinary, crowded, sweaty, uncertain spaces—on the road.
That is exactly where the resurrection happens. An earthquake shakes the ground. An angel speaks. Fear rises. And yet the message is simple: “Do not be afraid.” God does not remove fear first. God speaks into it. Easter begins with the concrete, everyday realities of the people. Especially among those whose only hope is God. Easter is not God ignoring fear; Easter is God entering it. And then comes the most beautiful detail: Jesus meets the women on the road.
Not at the tomb where the women went looking for him. Not in the heavens where most of us are looking for him. But on the road.
The Risen One does not wait for us to arrive at perfect faith, perfect courage, or perfect understanding. The Risen One walks with us while we are still figuring things out.
The women fall down and worship—but Jesus does not let them stay there. He says, “Go and tell.” Resurrection always sends us back—to family, to community, to wounded spaces and hurting places—with hope we did not manufacture ourselves.
My friends, Easter tells us this: Christ is risen—and still riding with the people. Still present in crowded roads. Still meeting us between fear and faith. Still turning ordinary journeys into holy ground.
So, wherever we are today—tired, uncertain, lost, grieving, or hopeful—never, ever, forget we are not traveling alone. Christ is risen. And Christ meets us on the way.
Amen.
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