Nobody went into that Sunday expecting miracles. The apostles stayed home while Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and perhaps others went to the tomb with spices. They had intended to provide one last act of kindness and respect to a dead teacher who could not possibly return the favor.
They were the first to witness the miracle. Angles flat out told them about the miracle, but they still could not see it until The Miracle spoke their names. “Mary,” Jesus said, and in that moment, she knew what angles themselves had been unable to convey.
I don’t think we’re that different today. We are surrounded by miracles that we are unable to see, even when they are described to us. Yet, when one of those miracles speaks to us directly, we learn something as if we have known it all our lives.