Tuesday within the Octave of Easter
7 April 2026
Called by name
The Lord is Risen. And not just once. Not just on Sunday. The Church stretches Easter into what we call the Octave of Easter—eight days celebrated as one single, continuous solemnity. Every day is treated like Easter Sunday. The Church is saying: this mystery is too big for one day. Stay here. Don’t move on too quickly. Let the Resurrection sink in.
Because the Resurrection is not just something that happened—it is something we are meant to live.
In the Gospel today, Mary Magdalene stands outside the tomb, weeping. She has already seen that the tomb is empty, but she doesn’t understand what it means. For her, the story is still one of loss: “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they have laid him.”
And then Jesus is standing right in front of her. Alive. But she doesn’t recognize Him. She sees Him—but she does not know Him. That moment matters. Because the risen Christ can be right in front of us, and we still miss Him.
Mary thinks He’s the gardener. And then everything changes in a single word: “Mary.” He calls her by name. And suddenly, she recognizes Him.
What changed? Not Jesus… her recognition changed. And it didn’t come through explanation or proof, but through relationship. He spoke her name.
That’s the heart of this Gospel. God calls us by name—not in a general way, not as a crowd, but personally. And that’s not just a poetic idea—that is something that has already happened in your life.
At your Baptism, the very first question asked was your name. “What name do you give this child?” Because before anything else—before the water, before the anointing, before the candle—the Church names you. Because God does not save a category. He saves a person. He calls you by name. And He never stops.
But here’s the tension. There are other voices—voices that don’t call you by your name, but call you by your failures. Your sins. Your past. Your weaknesses. That is the voice of the accuser. The word “Satan” literally means the accuser. And that’s what he does—he assigns you names that are not yours: Failure. Hypocrite. Liar. Thief. Not enough. Never going to change.
And if we’re honest, those are often the names we listen to. Those are the names we begin to believe.
But the Resurrection tells us something different. The risen Jesus does not stand before Mary and say, “You who doubted.” He doesn’t say, “You who ran away.” He says, “Mary.” And in that moment, everything is restored. Because God never defines us by our worst moment. He calls us by one name: My child.
Now look at the first reading. Peter proclaims: “God has made both Lord and Christ this Jesus whom you crucified.” And the people are “cut to the heart.” They realize what they’ve done. Their sin is exposed. But Peter does not leave them there. He doesn’t give them a new identity based on their failure. He calls them forward: “Repent and be baptized… and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”
In other words: that is not your name anymore. You are not defined by what you did. You are called into something new.
And this is the movement of Easter—not just that Jesus is alive, but that He calls us into new life. Calls us out of the names we’ve been carrying. Calls us out of the labels we’ve accepted. Calls us back to who we really are.
That’s why the Church gives us this Octave—eight days to hear it again, to let it sink in, to stop rushing past it. Because it takes time to unlearn the false names and to believe the true one.
For Mary everything changes when she hears her name. And that’s the question for us: Do you believe the risen Christ calls you by name?
Because Christianity is not just about believing that Jesus rose. It’s about encountering the risen Jesus—personally.
And notice one more thing. When Mary recognizes Him, she wants to hold on to Him. But Jesus says, “Stop holding on to me… go to my brothers.” The Resurrection is not something we cling to—it’s something that sends us.
Mary becomes the first witness: “I have seen the Lord.” And the same is true in Acts. Those who are cut to the heart don’t stay where they are—they are changed, baptized, sent into a new life.
That’s why the Church gives us these eight days—because we need time to move from confusion to recognition… from hearing to responding… from standing outside the tomb to being sent from it.
So today, don’t rush past Easter. Because the risen Christ is still speaking. And He is not calling you by your sin. He is not calling you by your past. He is calling you by your name—the name spoken over you at Baptism, the name He knows, the name He loves.
And beneath that name, there is an even deeper one: My child.
So stay here. Listen. Because the Lord is risen… And He is still calling you by name.
The Lord is Risen. And not just once. Not just on Sunday. The Church stretches Easter into what we call the Octave of Easter—eight days celebrated as one single, continuous solemnity. Every day is treated like Easter Sunday. The Church is saying: this mystery is too big for one day. Stay here. Don’t move on too quickly. Let the Resurrection sink in.
Because the Resurrection is not just something that happened—it is something we are meant to live.
In the Gospel today, Mary Magdalene stands outside the tomb, weeping. She has already seen that the tomb is empty, but she doesn’t understand what it means. For her, the story is still one of loss: “They have taken my Lord, and I don’t know where they have laid him.”
And then Jesus is standing right in front of her. Alive. But she doesn’t recognize Him. She sees Him—but she does not know Him. That moment matters. Because the risen Christ can be right in front of us, and we still miss Him.
Mary thinks He’s the gardener. And then everything changes in a single word: “Mary.” He calls her by name. And suddenly, she recognizes Him.
What changed? Not Jesus… her recognition changed. And it didn’t come through explanation or proof, but through relationship. He spoke her name.
That’s the heart of this Gospel. God calls us by name—not in a general way, not as a crowd, but personally. And that’s not just a poetic idea—that is something that has already happened in your life.
At your Baptism, the very first question asked was your name. “What name do you give this child?” Because before anything else—before the water, before the anointing, before the candle—the Church names you. Because God does not save a category. He saves a person. He calls you by name. And He never stops.
But here’s the tension. There are other voices—voices that don’t call you by your name, but call you by your failures. Your sins. Your past. Your weaknesses. That is the voice of the accuser. The word “Satan” literally means the accuser. And that’s what he does—he assigns you names that are not yours: Failure. Hypocrite. Liar. Thief. Not enough. Never going to change.
And if we’re honest, those are often the names we listen to. Those are the names we begin to believe.
But the Resurrection tells us something different. The risen Jesus does not stand before Mary and say, “You who doubted.” He doesn’t say, “You who ran away.” He says, “Mary.” And in that moment, everything is restored. Because God never defines us by our worst moment. He calls us by one name: My child.
Now look at the first reading. Peter proclaims: “God has made both Lord and Christ this Jesus whom you crucified.” And the people are “cut to the heart.” They realize what they’ve done. Their sin is exposed. But Peter does not leave them there. He doesn’t give them a new identity based on their failure. He calls them forward: “Repent and be baptized… and you will receive the gift of the Holy Spirit.”
In other words: that is not your name anymore. You are not defined by what you did. You are called into something new.
And this is the movement of Easter—not just that Jesus is alive, but that He calls us into new life. Calls us out of the names we’ve been carrying. Calls us out of the labels we’ve accepted. Calls us back to who we really are.
That’s why the Church gives us this Octave—eight days to hear it again, to let it sink in, to stop rushing past it. Because it takes time to unlearn the false names and to believe the true one.
For Mary everything changes when she hears her name. And that’s the question for us: Do you believe the risen Christ calls you by name?
Because Christianity is not just about believing that Jesus rose. It’s about encountering the risen Jesus—personally.
And notice one more thing. When Mary recognizes Him, she wants to hold on to Him. But Jesus says, “Stop holding on to me… go to my brothers.” The Resurrection is not something we cling to—it’s something that sends us.
Mary becomes the first witness: “I have seen the Lord.” And the same is true in Acts. Those who are cut to the heart don’t stay where they are—they are changed, baptized, sent into a new life.
That’s why the Church gives us these eight days—because we need time to move from confusion to recognition… from hearing to responding… from standing outside the tomb to being sent from it.
So today, don’t rush past Easter. Because the risen Christ is still speaking. And He is not calling you by your sin. He is not calling you by your past. He is calling you by your name—the name spoken over you at Baptism, the name He knows, the name He loves.
And beneath that name, there is an even deeper one: My child.
So stay here. Listen. Because the Lord is risen… And He is still calling you by name.