From the Gospel: Quietly beholding emptiness
The absence of Jesus’ body signifies the life-giving presence of Christ birthing the Church, his living body now present in space and time
Easter Sunday. Today’s readings: Acts 10:34a, 37-43; Psalm 118:1-2, 16-17, 22-23; Colossians 3:1-4 / 1 Corinthians 5:6b-8; John 20:1-9
A study published in 2023 by the Environment and Resources Authority (ERA) and the University of Malta’s Faculty for Social Well-being examined how environmental factors influence liveability and well-being across Malta. Conducted in five localities, the study gathered residents’ perceptions on the state of their environs.
Key findings revealed concerns regarding increased urban density dominated by high-rise, concrete, soulless structures, loss of green open spaces, traffic congestion and noise pollution, all impacting the quality of life, including mental and physical health.
Despite ongoing concerns about overpopulation and overtourism, the government has seemingly endorsed the MHRA-commissioned 2022 Deloitte study, confirming the target of 4.5 million tourist visits annually by 2035 – equivalent to approximately 375,000 visitors per month.
“Malta is rapidly losing its much-coveted liveability,” concludes the ERA-University study co-author Mary Grace Vella. Among the needs and concerns expressed by residents is a clear demand for open spaces that are safe and well-maintained.
The overwhelming urbanisation of the island gives the impression that, as a nation, we are innately averse to emptiness – almost as if we’re seized by a horror vacui, compelling us to fill every available space. This does not necessarily imply that, in our current circumstances, we are kenophobic – as might have been the case in the recent past. Psychologically, people are increasingly longing for open ‘empty’ spaces where they can breathe and make qualitative connections.
The relationship between emptiness and appearance has been the object of philosophical, metaphysical and theological thought across cultures and traditions, from the Sanskrit Prakriti and Śakti, the Daoist Tao, the Buddhist Śūnyatā, the Japanese Ma, the Zen Mu, Plato’s Khôra, to the Christian “apophatic ineffable space” and Derrida’s “radical opening”.
Easter is a call to a quiet, silent beholding of the empty tomb; a school where we learn to convalescently abide in the open, empty spaces of our lives – allowing us to breathe, regenerate and experience life in its fulness
Without this primal, open, empty, receptive space there can be no appearance or becoming. Its absence would be the absence of that space in which creativity arises; its absence would not just lead to death but to the impossibility of ‘conception’ and ‘birth’ on all senses and levels. It is indeed the fundamental condition for life to arise.
It is not without reason that the central gospel narrative for Easter Sunday is the discovery of the empty tomb, the eloquent sign and witness of the resurrection of Christ. Jesus entered death, he is gone, leaving an empty tomb, which is paradoxically filled by a transformed and transformative presence.
Confronted with this empty tomb, Mary is overwhelmed with traumatic grief and Peter is left speechless with disbelief. Contrastingly, the beloved disciple, the last one to step in, quietly “sees” and comes to a deeper understanding of what’s there. Of the beloved disciple, the fourth gospel reports: “he saw and believed”.
In Johannine literature, the verb “to see” (Greek: ὁράω, horaō) is key to spiritual awareness and enlightenment, involving faith, understanding and revelation. To “see” is to “believe”. On Easter Sunday, the beloved disciple who leaned on Jesus’s bosom during the Last Supper, insightfully acknowledges in himself the evacuated empty tomb, not as indicative of absence but as pointer to the subtle presence of new life. The absence of Jesus’s body signifies the life-giving presence of Christ birthing the Church, his living body now present in space and time.
Easter is not a “they lived happily ever after” fable, where everything returns to normal after a traumatic unfortunate event ends well on a joyful note; nor an excuse to overcome boredom by merrily sporting effigies of the Risen Christ like children chasing after Easter bunnies and eggs.
Easter is a call to a quiet, silent beholding of the empty tomb; a school where we learn to convalescently abide in the open, empty spaces of our lives – allowing us to breathe, regenerate and experience life in its fulness. Easter is making room for God, for ourselves, for others and all of creation: may all beings breathe auspiciously and be alive in Christ.