They were, that Thursday night, a bunch of good friends at a quiet party with their mentor. The best kind of evening. The kind of night that you are sure will never end. On those night you can accomplish anything. On those nights you can change the world.
Until the soldiers show up that is. And your mentor surrenders. And dies.
Then you are pretty sure the world has changed you. Lied to you. Destroyed you.
And you spend the sabbath wondering. The quiet day, the religious day, the day for reflection on God spent wondering what God has done, where he is, where he’s gone.
And then you get up Sunday morning hearing stories about how Jesus isn’t dead anymore. But no one is exactly sure what’s happening because, as John says, “They still did not understand from Scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead.” And all day long random people see Jesus. Scattered, surprising. Enough to have many people excited that it might be true.
So what was Easter Monday 1.0 like?
We don’t know. We have no idea.
We know that Jesus appeared off and on for for a few weeks. We know that the 10 disciples told Thomas about a conversation they had with Jesus. We know that there were appearances and breakfasts and relationship mending.
But it all happens in the course of living.
Because on Easter Monday 1.0, everyone still had to live, to eat, to talk, to figure out how the miraculous resurrection of Jesus connected to daily life.
It’s the same thing this morning. Many people attended powerful celebrations, family parties, and other momentous markings of Easter. And today, in the recovery from excesses of chocolate, ham and music, we have to wipe the sleep from our eyes and say, “Okay Jesus. Next?”