The Disciples Never Expected the Resurrection | April 19, 2026

Nobody walks to the tomb expecting a new world. In this episode, that’s where we start: with the disciples’ honest assumption that Jesus is gone for good, and with the uncomfortable way that grief trains all of us to think death, defeat, and shame are permanent.

We talk through why the Resurrection of Jesus isn’t just a first-century mystery but a living Catholic claim that reorders how reality works. The irony is sharp: the chief priests are the ones who remember Jesus said He would rise, and their fear turns into a strange kind of witness. From there we sit with the disciples’ puzzlement as they struggle to recognize the risen Lord, including a reflection on the Shroud of Turin and the face cloth detail in John’s Gospel as a way to think about signs, belief, and the gap between “something happened” and “I have met Him.”

The heart of the episode is what Easter does to suffering. Jesus appears in glory, yet His wounds remain, and that changes how we see our own scars. 

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Father Don Wolf is a priest of the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City. Living Catholic also broadcasts on Oklahoma Catholic Radio several times per week, with new episodes airing every Sunday.

Transcript

Welcome And Easter Season Theme

SPEAKER_01 0:04

This is living Catholic with Father Dumble.

They Expected A Grave

The Priests Feared Resurrection

Our Pain Makes Hope Hard

The Puzzle Of Recognizing Jesus

Shroud Of Turin And Belief

A Life Bigger Than Fear

Wounds Carried Into Glory

Emmaus And Hearing Peter Today

Meeting Christ In The Mass

Faith In Verse Burial Today

Promise Of Victory And Farewell

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Welcome, Oklahoma to Living Catholic. I'm Monsignor Don Wolfe, pastor of Sacred Heart Parish, and rector of the shrine of Blessed Stanley Rother, and we're now at that point in time in the liturgical years, that's one of my favorites. It's the time when we read the stories of the disciples and their encounters with the resurrected Christ. In the Sunday readings, as well as the weekday ones, we encounter Jesus as his followers saw him. There's beauty in these stories and some puzzlement as well. We'll get to the puzzles later, but during these days we should enjoy the beauty. The disciples expected Jesus to be dead and they found him alive. They responded with wonder and gratitude. That's the notable theme of these great stories. And the beauty of the disciples encountered with Jesus was that, first of all, they expected him to be lying in the grave. We can't overemphasize this expectation as they came to the tomb. The women in the dark of the morning and the other disciples waiting in hiding in Jerusalem, they had no notion there would be a resurrection. Although Jesus had taught that he must be resurrected, this message played no part in his burial or the reaction of his disciples to his arrest and conviction. Not one of them, according to the narrative of the events, paused to assure himself that everything would work out because eventually Jesus would rise from the dead and all would be put right with the world. Those who followed him felt the pain of his suffering and death deeply, because they presumed it was as all other people suffer and die, it was permanent. Coming to the tomb on Easter morning, they were prepared for almost anything except resurrection. Curiously, it was the chief priests who had remembered Jesus' teaching about resurrection. They go to Pilate and ask that a guard be set at the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea so that no one might come and steal the body, so then they could spread the story that Jesus had truly been raised from the dead. Jesus had talked about rising from the dead, so they were concerned that if they didn't take precautions, people might believe it. Their response was to create a body of witnesses to prove to a credulous public that Jesus did not rise. They weren't expecting to see Jesus risen to new life from the tomb, but when they went to the tomb, at least they had heard Jesus' teaching on the matter. Of all of the people who witnessed the crucifixion and were involved in the life and ministry of Jesus, these, the chief priests, were the only ones who apparently credited what Jesus had to say concerning what would come next. Or in the word of the Guatemalan poet Julia Esquival, they have threatened us with resurrection. The chief priests felt threatened. But as the women came to the tomb and found it different than they expected, they didn't know how to act or what to do. Resurrection was not on their minds in the slightest. Expecting to find only Jesus' body dumped into the space of the hollowed-out rock as he was hastily carried in from the cross, they weren't thinking about any great hope. They were thinking only of a proper embalming and an appropriate burial. And we should pause to note how much this description fits our own definition of death and defeat. All of us are overpowered by the powers of death and sin when we go through the traumas of our lives. Even though we're surrounded by the promise of resurrection, as we read through the teachings of Jesus, these teachings leave our minds the moment we truly encounter the enormity of our pain and the power of our sorrow. When a loved one dies, we think only of the great yawning void their going from us has left in our lives. We don't normally think of eternal life. If we're diagnosed with a challenging illness, we experience our frailty and vulnerability as a great darkness enveloping us, as if the powers of death have come for us. We don't think of Easter morning. If we wake up to the sin we have committed in our foolishness and selfishness, we know it to be like the darkness of the tomb. We don't think of the releasing power of resurrected life. All of which is to say that when we go to the tomb, our thinking is dominated by what we always expect and always experience, the power of death in its finality. Seeing something more takes an intervention, usually divine, before we can see beyond the veil of death, defeat, and shame. We can be more sympathetic to the apostles and disciples as they came to look into the sepulchre on that morning. Their thoughts were dominated by the loss they had experienced, and they weren't thinking of anything else. Feeling their grief at what had been taken from them, they could only see their way to the caring, reliable response to it. When they found there was hope in their sorrow and light that came from the tomb, they found there was something more to their lives than what they were feeling. Resurrection isn't simply the record of a curious event in the first century passed on to us through the pages of the gospel. It's a resounding reordering of how the world goes, a truth that touches us in all of the corners of our lives as much today as at any time. After all, if the promise of resurrection was founded by Jesus' own resurrection, then we have the right to hope there will be an invitation to see beyond the darkness of death and the price of sin. As St. Paul wrote in his letter to the Romans, we are baptized into Jesus' death so that as he rose, we rise with him to a new life. Resurrection is touching us today, not just up ahead in an unknown future. It's with us today. Or to modify the words of the author Chinwa Achibe, it's mourning yet on resurrection day. The second aspect of their encounter with Jesus was their puzzlement at what they were seeing. It wasn't easy to make out what was going on with them as they began to encounter the resurrected Lord. And here we make a distinction between them arriving at the tomb and looking inside, and then later seeing Jesus alive and talking with them. They are distinct experiences. There is a highlight to this distinction that was provided by an expert on the Shroud of Turin in a recent podcast I heard. The Shroud of Turin, of course, is claimed to be the burial cloth of Jesus, preserved as a relic from when Jesus rose from the dead. It had been carefully stored for centuries and had been revered as a unique relic, but only because of its providence and the traditions surrounding it. Then at the end of the 19th century, a photographer took a picture of the shroud and discovered, in the negative, the image of a man who it looked like had been crucified. From then on, all manner of discoveries have been made concerning the image and what it reveals. In the conclusion of many, it is the authentic burial cloth of Jesus. Now, this expert, talking about the relics of the resurrection, also mentioned the cloth that covered Jesus' face at the time of the burial. This is mentioned specifically in John's Gospel. Peter looked into the tomb and saw the shroud lying in one place and the face cloth folded and placed in another. This expert opined, given that according to the measures and conclusions of the experts, the image on the shroud had been caused by a great blinding light at the moment of the resurrection. The image on the face covering was also made by the same kind of blinding light. But, as he was talking, this expert opined, when Peter looked in and saw it, it was still glowing with the results of this great moment of resurrection. According to him, that's why Peter saw it, and when he did, he understood and believed, according to John's gospel. Remember, he looked in and saw, but then he looked in again, saw the cloth in a separate place, and believed. How could he not, if that's what he was seeing? Now, this is a different encounter, however, than encountering Jesus resurrected. Knowing something had happened was a lot different than actually finding Jesus present and then talking to him. This was the response to all of those who saw him. They were puzzled and uncertain about exactly what they were finding when they found him. Of course, we don't know what a resurrected body looks like or what it's like to talk to the one who's raised but now who was dead but now has been raised. It's understandable the disciples weren't sure of the content of their own experience. Over and over, they misidentify him or plain just don't recognize who he is. And then when prompted, they see and understand. Their eyes are opened and they finally see. When they do, they experience Jesus as someone more than merely the guy they used to know. He isn't like Lazarus risen from the dead, a friend revivified after four days in the tomb and who came out to reclaim his place in the household of his sisters. Jesus wasn't just up from death to be the rabbi from Galilee again. When the disciples saw him, he was gloriously alive in a transcendent way that they could scarcely recognize. They didn't know what they were seeing when they saw him. Jesus was himself in all the ways that he could be himself, and at the same time he was more. He looked like any other man, and yet he was beyond the limitations of a body, even as his body was present and among them. It was a curious reality for the disciples, but they did see him and they did glory in his presence. It wasn't only the fact that he was back among them, it was also that his presence with them was inviting and enlivening. Being connected to him, they felt that they had a claim for a new kind of life as well. It's hard to know exactly what they were seeing and what it was like to talk with Jesus, but they could see a presence so inviting and so amazing, they were captivated by it. Just think, upon seeing Jesus, they went about the world preaching and healing and baptizing. They were transformed in every way. The story of the apostles is an often quoted fact, but we seldom pause to think about it. Each of them, except one, were martyred for their faith, killed because of their fearless preaching. The one not killed ended his time on earth exiled in a penal colony. They were transformed by their experience of Jesus. They could see in his life a whole new way of being. Just talking with him was enough to experience being beyond the boundaries of life. And once they could see and feel and hear what kind of exp what kind of transcendence, what what that kind of transcendence was, they spent the rest of their lives living as if those boundaries were not present to them. Martyrs and saints know the courage of a life bigger than life. These apostles and disciples found it to be so. Jesus carried this transcendence in his person. But think about it. Their friend had died, the most gruesome, torturous death anybody could think about. It not only was painful, but shameful, removing any sense of propriety and dignity from him. They also had seen him accept this pain and embrace it, dying in agony and abandonment. But seeing him raised up, knowing that God was faithful to him beyond the boundaries of death and shame, that he was gloriously alive in a way they could only dream about and then hope for, they wanted the same future. Just listen to the words Jesus spoke to the disciples who were gathered in the upper room when he appeared to them on Easter Sunday. They were gathered in a locked room, sensibly, because they were under suspicion by those who had killed Jesus without a moment's hesitation. They were there when Jesus appeared to them. He greeted them and delivered the frightful words to them. He said, As the Father sent me, I send you. It sounds somewhat anodyne in our telling of it, after all. He was standing there in all of his resurrected glory, but he let them know the awful prospect of their lives. They could plainly see his wounds and note the vicious effects of his torture and crucifixion, and then he as much told them, So as for me, the same for you. It would have only taken a moment's pause to bring to mind the savagery of his beatings and the horrors of the crucifixion before a chill would run down their spines. If being sent produced a body as torn and broken as Jesus' body, then his words were terrifying. And yet they embraced what they heard. They were enthusiastic to know there was a promise of such a glorified body, unlimited by the boundaries of sin and death, that they went out in his name, making him known everywhere. He was gloriously alive among them. It's not an accident that we hear also of his wounds. Jesus did not rise in a body made whole from the pains of his crucifixion. It plainly makes clear that the wounds he suffered were still a part of his body, even the body raised from death in glory. The marks of his suffering were still present on him. This is more than a curious detail, it's a sublime reminder. Jesus really suffered on the cross. The cries of pain and the feelings of hopelessness that he suffered during his time on the cross were real. He wasn't acting the part of the suffering Messiah or transcending the pain of the world. He was the victim of it. And yet, and it was not psychic or moral pain. It was immediate and carnal. He suffered in the flesh as any of us would suffer. In fact, what he suffered was so profound, he carried it with him into the resurrection. His resurrected self was not a perfect vision of his body made whole again. It was the sum of his life and death brought into a new kind of life. Our temptations about sufferings are that they are either meaningless or offensive. When we suffer, we imagine our pain to bleed out into the void without purpose or prospect. And not just the pains of wounds or lashes, but also the pains of separation and disappointment. They all gnawed us and cause us to feel hopeless and overwhelmed. As we suffer them, we can only endure them. Because we imagine, they mean only that we're vulnerable and fragile. And not only that, as we suffer, we're convinced our pains are separate from ourselves, an offense against what we are and who we are. To endure our pains and privations and sufferings, we often imagine them to be apart from us, a kind of power attacking us from the outside to cause us misery and to rob our joy. By the wounds of our suffering, our bodies and our lives are interrupted and displaced. Our selves are pierced and damaged, torn and shattered. But Jesus's wounds accompanied him. They were part of the glory of his resurrected presence. Rather than being left behind or rectified in some divine manner, they are the fullness of his glory. His wounds are resurrected. This is the reminder to all of us who endure the wounds of our own lives that we are not promised the fullness of an ideal life, of a perfected body and glory without stint as part of the resurrection. Jesus' appearance seemed to indicate that our wounds will rise with us and be a part of the transcendence that were promised, so that we might be proud of what has caused us pain and glory in what has torn at us. Imagine what it would be like to live in the kingdom of God in which the limitations of life were lifted, not only about how many years we get to live, but all the barriers that hold us and bind us through our lives, that all of them were lifted as well. In this sort of kingdom, we would be aware that the wounds and pains of those around us were not curses or even disabilities, but were all part of the glory of living fully and completely. If we were to live in the complete fullness of this kingdom, we would admire the hospice patient who knows the depth of his fragility and is aware of the shortness of his life. In the kingdom of resurrected life, we would know and honor the wounded nature of those around us, knowing those wounds were transformed into the marks of grace and the hope for everyone. This is the kingdom Jesus' presence offered to his disciples. Now there are two more aspects of the stories of resurrection that pique our interest as well. The first comes from the longest and most involved of these stories. It's from Luke's gospel and is the famous story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. We know the plot. The disciples are heading out following the great Passover feast day and the events of Jesus' crucifixion. They're going back home, away from the promise that had drawn them to Jesus and to Jerusalem. Downcast and disappointed, a stranger accompanies them on the road and asks them out their despondence. This leads to a day-long conversation about the promised Messiah. And at the end of the day, they break bread together, and as they do, their eyes are opened, and they understand this stranger was, in fact, the resurrected Lord. And this is followed by the stunning realization that his presence had been causing their hearts to burn all day long. They had had some awareness of his potential and his presence arising from their souls, although it had been inchoate and undefined. Once they knew Jesus was truly present to them, they knew it was no secret that this presence had been as close to them as their own disappointment and distress. The resurrected Christ had truly been there with them, accompanying them in their pain, even though they couldn't put their finger on the actuality of that presence. It was real to them in every way. Following this, they ran back to Jerusalem to inform the rest of the disciples. They went back to the heart of their journey, to the place that Jesus had taken them in his journey to complete his mission. Bursting through the doors, they breathlessly announced that they had come to know the Lord, he was truly alive, raised up. But the rest of the group assured them that they already knew. And they knew because Jesus had appeared to Peter, and Peter had told them. The flagrant power of the resurrection and Jesus' presence among his disciples were ministered to them by the words spoken by the head of the apostles, Peter. This story illustrates the other side of the resurrection stories, which is the promise that the encounter with the resurrected Christ is a prospect for everyone. Again, we imagine we're reading what happened among those people a long time ago, and presume the accounts are but history for us to observe and to treasure. But we are as present to the witness and the word of Peter as they were. We find out about the resurrection and the presence of Jesus in the same way and by the same means as they, because Peter tells us it's true. And while this may seem to be a thin reed on which to celebrate Easter, it means everything. The successors of Peter and the structure of their teaching continue to assure us the Lord is raised and our lives are transformed. We become so used to his words they remain almost hidden and minor, as the brief sentence in this story about Peter's testimony. But the promise of resurrection doesn't evaporate, and the words continue to matter as much to us today as they did on that Easter Sunday. They're the same words. Imagine that the prospect of seeing the risen Jesus is one we walk into every time we gather, especially when we gather at Mass. What if it were the case that as we are gathered, celebrating what Jesus told his disciples to do in his name to remember that we saw Jesus there? Would we recognize him? My guess is that we would be like all of the apostles and disciples were when he appeared to them on Easter Sunday. We'd puzzle about what we were seeing and what it meant for us. We'd have to have some direct prompt to know that it was the resurrected Christ standing in our midst, just as the disciples needed when they finally noticed who it was. Would we come to know it was Him? Should we ponder this question? Have we met Christ Himself among us as we gather? Remember, the church together is the body of Christ. We receive the body of Christ at Mass so as to become the body of Christ in our everyday lives, and so that we would be the body of Christ throughout the world. Certainly, we are to be the real presence of Christ to one another and to the wide world. It's intriguing to wonder if Christ Himself is present among us, standing next to us as we gather. If he were, what would you say? Finding the answer to that question is the meaning of the rest of the Easter season. Back in just a moment. Welcome back to our final segment, Faith in Verse. We have a poem today called The Burial Today. We gathered to bury their child today away at a donated grave next to a stran a stranger's chapel. Mom and dad were shattered and stayed. Of course, as husband and wife, they had never imagined the weakness of life would touch them so. Like all of us, the darkness outside was held back by the light shining within and starkly abiding. But even so it crept around the corners and under the door to claim their mourned little one. So tiny and fragile, hardly a doll baby, born for less than a day, as she clung finally in her uphill struggle to succumb and fall. Tears are the heritage we share, they are our common parts, as they splash in pairs down the cheeks of us all, and fall as the markers of our graven hearts. That's the burial today. And that's the challenge that faces us. But still, we're provided with the promise of the Lord's victory over sin and death, which is this victory that is truly present in our own lives. I hope that all of us have a chance to live this out together and that we can continue to join one another here as we continue to explore what it means to be living Catholic.

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Living Catholic is a production of the Archdiocese of Oklahoma City for Oklahoma Catholic Radio. To learn more, visit okr.org.