Christ is risen! Today’s reflection reminds us that Jesus comes to meet us wherever we are—at the foot of the cross, waiting at the tomb, or rejoicing in the Resurrection— and that the hope of the Risen Christ is at work in our world.

April 20, 2025: The Resurrection of the Lord, Year C
Acts 10:34a, 37–43
Psalm 118:1–2, 16–17, 22–23
Colossians 3:1–4 or 1 Corinthians 5:6b–8
John 20:1–9

From Mourning to Dancing

A reflection by Justin Telthorst

"He is risen! He is risen indeed!" I remember bellowing these phrases out of a car at strangers very late one Holy Saturday night in college. As a sacristan, Holy Week was my Super Bowl—a flurry of liturgies, each with its setup, servers, and intricacies. While it was a week I loved, I always felt a sense of relief once Easter rolled around, a mingling of the burdens of Lent and a long workweek simultaneously being lifted off my shoulders. It was an exhausting week, both physically and emotionally, but Easter was a time to rejoice. And I fully intended to do so with my fellow sacristans as we drove together, blasting music and hollering at passersby, eager to dive into a late-night Easter feast.

I've often felt this chasm in Holy Week—the exhaustion and sorrow of the week paralleling its excitement and joy, a pattern of descent and ascent woven into our faith. This rhythm flows through the various liturgies: Holy Thursday's beauty and intimacy with the apprehensive quiet of praying at the altar of repose afterwards. The solemn austerity of Good Friday, void of the consecration, as we meditate on the bleak reality of the death of our Savior. Then there's the oddity of Holy Saturday—a day that often feels like an empty time of waiting, knowing the excitement of what is to come but still tinged with a mournful silence that Christ has not risen just yet.

Our first reading from the book of Acts on Easter Sunday models this rhythm: the joy of the Incarnation, the passion of Jesus, the darkness of His death, and the triumphant joy of His Resurrection. But in this linear presentation, it can be easy to forget that the passion of Jesus is not a once-and-done event, but the culmination of a cycle of suffering and hope that Jesus embodied throughout His time on this earth. Think of His experiences like the temptation in the desert, His rejection at Nazareth, or the death of Lazarus. Each moment was like a miniature passion, as hardship is paired with grace. It's the same with our lives.

The emotional ups and downs that the Church just put us through this Holy Week are not arbitrary; they’re a gift to guide us spiritually. The week helps us intentionally live the pattern of death and Resurrection so that we might recognize it more fully in our own lives. But as this Easter season rolls around and the Church tells us we are in a season of rejoicing, how are you doing? Are you joyfully entering into the Resurrection? Or are there things in your life that mean you are still with Jesus on Good Friday or waiting by the tomb on Holy Saturday? The Resurrection accounts show us that Jesus will meet us in either place.

Christ appears to Mary Magdalene, who is overjoyed at seeing Him and desperate to hold onto Him, but who eagerly returns to the disciples to declare the wonderful news. Jesus also meets two downcast and defeated disciples walking the long road to Emmaus; He listens to their struggles and journeys alongside them for as long as it takes, so that they may be filled with joy as well.

Regardless of the state of our hearts this Easter season—whether we are shouting joyfully from our car or waiting by the tomb, uncertain of the future—the resurrected Jesus remains close to us and reminds us that we love a God who does not give death the last word.

Following Christ doesn't come with a promise that we won't experience hardships. Being Catholic doesn't prevent us from suffering. And when Jesus encounters pain, He doesn't just snap His fingers and fix it; He remains, waits, and draws near. And in time, mourning always turns to dancing. So, this Easter season, may we be reminded of the truth of Jesus's life. May we be reminded that Jesus is always close to us in our aching, that darkness never has the last word, and that the hope and healing of the Risen Christ are already at work in our world.

Justin Telthorst is a speaker, writer, and content creator who is passionate about LGBT+ and Catholic dialogue. He has over a decade of experience navigating Church ministry, including five years as a missionary with FOCUS. Drawing from his rich background in philosophy, theology, and psychology, he offers a thoughtful and compassionate approach to the pastoral care and inclusion of LGBT+ Catholics, rooted in years of deep formation and pastoral experience. He is dedicated to fostering community among LGBT+ Catholics and making the Church a safe and welcoming place for all. When not working as a nurse, the Colorado-based advocate enjoys hiking and trail running. You can find his work at Empty Chairs.

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