The Empty Tomb

It was on Easter Sunday of 2021 when I committed what is probably my biggest homily blunder of all time.

It’s one of those moments where, try as I might, I just can’t forget it. It was my second Easter as a priest, I was still in Rome finishing my studies in Canon Law, and the congregation was a small group of seminarians from Oklahoma, Alabama and Louisiana who were studying at the North American College.

I was all excited, thinking I had a really great message. Easter was a moment of rejoicing, the tomb was empty. Trying to be smart, I used the rhetorical question, “Is the tomb not empty?” multiple times. And then it came the moment to land the plane. “Here we go,” I thought to myself. I had, in my mind, nailed my homily. I was going to end it by saying my rather catchy rhetorical question one last time.

Except I botched it.

“The tomb is not empty,” I proclaimed. It wasn’t until I sat down that I realized my mistake. I hurriedly ran back to the ambo shouting, “The tomb is empty!” But the mistake had already been made. 

But as I reflect on that one slipup, I can’t help but also reflect on what my intended message was, the tomb is in fact empty. It’s a reality that we should all rejoice in, not just during the Easter season. We are, as Saint Pope John Paull II said, an Easter people. The tomb being empty is the proof of God’s ultimate victory. Not merely a sign of the resurrection, but a reminder of God’s everlasting infinite love for us.

That he sent his only son to die for us, to suffer for us, the lamb without blemish dying for our sins. We who are washed in the waters of baptism are brought to new life, participating in Christ’s death and resurrection. For us then, the empty tomb serves as a reminder of not only our Easter joy but a reminder of the hope we place in the resurrection, the hope we place in God’s love and mercy. 

Unfortunately, the temptation exists to celebrate Easter only on Easter Sunday and then move on. Sure, we celebrate the whole Easter season liturgically, but by the time Easter Sunday is over all the big stores have moved on, right? Replaced by whatever holiday can be capitalized on next.

When we leave the confines of the Mass, everything around us tells us Easter is over. It becomes easy to forget that the tomb is in fact empty.

That’s why it is important to focus on the light of the Paschal candle. This light, which is present not just at the Easter liturgies, but also at baptismal and funeral liturgies as well, is that perfect reminder of the light of Christ, the lumen Christi, shining bright in the world. Perhaps it is an image we should burn into our minds. Something we can go back to when the busyness of the world distracts us from the Paschal mystery.

The light of Christ gives us hope. The light of Christ piercing the darkness. The light of Christ illuminates our hearts and minds at our baptism. The light of Christ that welcomes us into eternal life. If we can picture that light in our mind and allow it to help give light to the messiness and noise of our daily life, then perhaps we can see clearly that the tomb is empty, now and forever. 

Four years ago, I tried to use the analogy of the empty tomb as a reason to rejoice, a reason to allow ourselves to find joy in a world in chaos. A noble effort, but I failed the landing. But now the image of the empty tomb is seared into my mind. Because more than just joy, the empty tomb reminds us that God has won.

Through all the noise of the world, the empty tomb reminds us not just of the joy of the resurrection, but offers us an image of hope in a world that seems ever more hopeless. As one of the more popular Easter hymns says, “The strife is o'er, the battle done; Now is the Victor's triumph won; O let the song of praise be sung. Alleluya!”

Brothers and sisters, let us hold that in our hearts and remember always that we are an Easter people, because the tomb is in fact empty.

Fr. William Banowsky is the judicial vicar for the Metropolitan Archdiocesan Tribunal of Oklahoma City and pastor at Holy Spirit Catholic Church in Mustang.


Photo: Fr. William Banowsky. Photo Bishop McGuinness Catholic High School.