For those who participate in the solemn sacred liturgies, the movements of Holy Week culminate with the uplifting hymn of the Exultet, the celebration of all that is good in God, his providence in Jesus, and his graciousness to us. The wax honed by bees becomes the Easter candle shining in the dark. Even our faults (felix culpa) are given a place in the big scheme of things.
Nothing is wasted for God. Not the darkness, not sin, not tragedy, not even death. On that night, and the 50 days of Eastertide, everything resonates with the uplifting news of Jesus’s resurrection, and the invitation to see the same things with new eyes. “Were not our hearts burning within us while he talked with us on the road?” (Lk 24: 32)
Yet, for those who walk in the shadows of life, Easter represents a very tiny blip in the bleak horizon of dreariness. It hardly makes a dent in the sadness, grief and pain they carry from day to day. Their grey fog hardly lifts. For some, the experience of betrayal, the perception that God is indifferent to our pleas in times of distress, and the sheer magnitude of pain and evil in the world leave little room for hallelujahs and facile thanksgivings. When Easter is presented as dramatic, powerful, and particularly awesome, it leaves us feeling somewhat outside of things, common mortals for whom joy and rejoicing are beyond reach.
Yet, unmistakably, Easter is also the story of how this darkness is redeemed through simple things. In the same way that God’s ultimate mystery and gift is revealed in a little baby born in the tiny town of Bethlehem, Easter marks the power of God’s love in staying the course with us through the resurrection of Jesus.
In each little sign of hope around us, from the buds of spring to the spring in our steps, the Easter story is retold in the simplest of terms. After the resurrection, Jesus does the simplest of things. He walks. He cooks. He explains. He breathes peace. He transforms the simple tasks of daily life into an encounter with the divine. And oh, how we need that today!
After the resurrection, Jesus does the simplest of things. He walks. He cooks. He explains. He breathes peace. He transforms the simple tasks of daily life into an encounter with the divine
When the toil and drudgery of daily life grinds us into cynicism, dejection, and lack of hope, we are easily led to think that Easter was just a false dawn, a temporary reprieve, a snuffed out promise that things in our life will get better. Nowhere is this more real than in journeying with people. It is so easy to give in to despair in relationships, to disappointment in community, and to lack of hope in repairing deep interpersonal wounds.
Easter is renewed when we reclaim our hopes, light a candle, hold a hand in need, and walk with someone in distress. Easter is retold whenever we fold clothes, clean dishes, listen to our children’s stories, and those told by our elders over and over again. Easter happens again in the simple repetitions of daily acts of kindness with each other and the hidden chores no one ever notices.
Jesus’s resurrection is manifest when we reach out in a relationship, when we try to forgive. It is in these nondescript, hidden moments that our life becomes a little paschal mystery, each little death leading to a little rising.