Mary goes to the tomb while it is still night, thinking that she will find Jesus' corpse. It is all that now remains to keep the memory of her encounter with the Lord alive. The rolled back stone and the empty tomb perplex her, but they are still signs related to that death; only now, she does not know "where they have laid him." This word is wonderful and full of affection.
She was the first who hurriedly came; now, Peter and John, troubled and agitated, come running. The first, who is younger, arrives, but then waits for the other to go in first. The bandages and the shroud are enough to believe, without appearances and assertions. This faith in itself is a miracle. It has the measure of our experience, our story before the mystery of death and resurrection, we who are called each time—while it is still night—to convert and believe.
Mary, Peter, John and the disciples, at the beginning, saw only the cloth. This year, there is an extraordinary and merciful exposition of the Shroud. Before it, we dare to say:
Impress your face in me, Lord,
So that the Father, seeing You in me, will say again, "You are my beloved son,"
and that whoever meets me may see a spark of the Father.
Impress your face in me, Lord,
so that it may be a witness of Your infinite tenderness for each creature.
Impress your face in me, Lord,
so that I may be a living Shroud
carrying the signs of your death and Resurrection.
