Darkness is a womb

Great Vigil of Easter
St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church
Charleston SC on April 19, 2025

The Reverend Will Berry 

Beloved in Christ, I speak to you this night in the name of the God who walks with us through the darkness and who guides us towards the light. Please be seated.

I’ve always wondered what the disciples were doing on the night before Easter. Were they huddled in a room together, fearful for their lives and for the future of their movement? Were they waiting patiently for the resurrection, remembering the cryptic words of Jesus that on the third day he would “rise again?” (Luke 24:7). Or had they already gone back to their old lives? Were John and James and Peter back on the shore, washing their nets after a late evening catch?

Wherever they were, and whatever they were doing, the disciples were in a liminal space. They were in the space between death and resurrection, between darkness and light. The women who followed Jesus, however, were busy making preparations—not for the resurrection, but to finish caring for Jesus’ crucified body.

As we’ll hear in just a few moments, the Gospel tells us that early on Easter morning, a group of faithful women made their way to the tomb. According to Luke, among them were Mary Magdalene, Joanna, and Mary the mother of James. Luke tells us that they had come with Jesus from Galilee and had seen the tomb where his body had been laid, so they went home and prepared spices and perfumes but rested on the Sabbath day, “as was their custom” (Luke 23:55-56).

What the men were doing the night before Easter, God only knows, but the women were waiting. They were waiting to offer their final act of devotion to the Messiah they had followed so closely. While the others had scattered during the crucifixion, they had stood by at a distance, watching as the life dimmed from the eyes of their beloved Teacher and friend.

There’s a certain power in grief, that only those who have truly grieved know. Once you’ve touched those depths, you come to understand just how fragile life is and how loss is an inevitable part of it. But you also come to know how beautiful and precious life is, and how each moment is a sacred and invaluable gift.

In the Amazon series "Rings of Power", the elven protagonist Galadriel seeks wisdom from her brother Finrod. She asks him about darkness and light, and wonders how she might know the way when the time comes. She likens the challenge of her discernment to seeing the reflection of the moon in the water, which at first glance appears to be the light, but is only a mirage. Once you breach the surface, you soon find yourself swallowed by the abyss. But her brother offers her sober counsel. If you truly want to know the way to the light, he says, “then you must first touch the darkness.”

Beloved, the only way to get to the light of morning is to pass through the darkness of night. As the disciples either waited or scattered, as the women prepared to bring their spices, the broken body of Jesus was being knit together in the darkness of the tomb. And somewhere, deep in the depths of the cosmos, the crucified Word of God was coming back to life.

Friends, if there’s one thing that this holy vigil teaches us, it’s that darkness is nothing to fear. No matter how bleak things seem, no matter how much we struggle and stumble to find our way, the light of morning will come. It might feel like we’ve been swallowed by the abyss. It might feel like all hope is lost and nothing is left but death and ruin, but the word of God is stirring among us in mysterious and incomprehensible ways. Darkness is not the end. Darkness is a womb, and it births us into new life.

In just a few moments, the lights will come on and the music will play. We’ll sing our alleluias and make “a joyful noise to the Lord.” But for now, in the last moments of this liminal space, I want to invite you to sit and pay attention to what the spirit is doing in and among us.

Beloved in Christ, we are an Easter people, but the truth is that our world is a holy Saturday world waiting in the mist of sorrow and death for resurrection and new life. As we wait in these last moments of darkness, let us remember that God is with us; slowly knitting us back together again.

© 2025 Will Berry

Image credit: Photo by Thays Orrico on Unsplash