Fr. David King. Dawn Service – Easter Day 2026

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.

Amen.

In the stillness of this early morning, before the world has properly awakened, we gather in half-light-just as the women did on thatfirst Easter Day. There is something profoundly fitting aboutcelebrating the Resurrection at dawn. Because this is how it began:

not with noise or spectacle, but in quietness, in uncertainty, in the dim light before sunrise.

"After the sabbath, as the first day of the week was dawning, MaryMagdalene and the other Mary went to see the tomb."

They came carrying grief. They came with love, yes-but also with loss, confusion, and a sense that all had ended. The cross had shattered their hopes. The silence of Holy Saturday had deepenedtheir sorrow. They came not expecting resurrection, but simply to be near the place where he had been laid.

And yet, even as they walk in darkness, something is already happening.

"The earth shook.... the angel descended... the stone was rolled back."

God is at work before they even arrive. Before their understanding, before their faith, before their hope-God has already acted. And that is always the way with resurrection. It is never something we achieve or predict. It is always gift. Always grace. Always God's doing. And so the angel speaks the words that echo through all ages: "He is not here; for he has been raised."

Not resuscitated. Not returned to the old life. But raised—transformed, victorious, alive in a way that death can never touch again. And then fear and joy mingle together. "With fear and great joy they ran..." That strange, beautiful mixture-because resurrection is overwhelming. It unsettles as much as it comforts. It overturns everything we thought we knew about life, death, suffering, and God.

And then, suddenly-Jesus himself meets them.

"Just as Christ was raised from the dead... so we too might walk in newness of life."

This is why, this morning, we light the Paschal Candle. From a single flame, the light spreads into the darkness. It is a sign of Christ himself-the light no darkness can overcome. The pillar of fire who leads his people through the night. The risen Lord, shining with the glory of new creation. And that light is not distant. It is given to us. In baptism, we receive that light. We are made children of the resurrection. Which is why, today, we renew our baptismal promises.

We stand, perhaps still carrying our own burdens—our own griefs, doubts, sins, fears-and we are asked: Do you turn away from sin?

Do you believe in Christ? Will you live as his disciple?

These are not abstract questions. They are Easter questions.

Will you live as someone who has passed through death into life?

Will you walk as someone who belongs to the risen Christ?

Will you allow the power of the resurrection to shape your daily life?

Because resurrection is not only about what happens after we die.

It is about how we live now. To live as an Easter people is to refuse to let sin have the final word. It is to resist despair, even when the world feels heavy with darkness.

It is to love, even when love is costly.

It is to trust that God is at work-even when we cannot yet see the empty tomb.

And so, this morning, we stand at a threshold.

Like the women at the tomb, we have heard the message: "He is not here... he has been raised."

Like them, we are sent: "Go and tell..."

Like them, we are invited to encounter the living Christ.

And like them, we are called to move-from fear into joy, from death into life, from darkness into light.

The dawn has broken. The stone has been rolled away. The grave is empty.

Christ is risen.

And now, the question is this:

Will we live as those who have been raised with him?

May the light of the Paschal Candle burn in our hearts.

May the grace of our baptism be renewed within us.

And may we go from this place as witnesses-not only in word, but in lifethat Christ is alive.

Alleluia Christ is Risen.