I am frequently reminded, by the pastoral ministry aspects of my life, that we take a great many things for granted in this life, and that everything we hold dear is very tenuous and can disappear in a moment. Oftentimes when I am tired and heading into a hospital room, I take a moment to remind myself that the family I am going to visit is having one of, if not the sole, worst days of their life. It’s a
humbling experience and reminds me to thank God for the many blessings of my own life.

This mystery of the delicate balance of joy and sorrow is reflected in today’s central feast of our entire liturgical calendar, Easter Sunday. This is the day when Our Lord burst the prison bars of death and won victory over the grave. The
Exsultet, the Easter hymn proclaimed at the Vigil, tells us that the sanctifying power of this night “dispels wickedness, washes faults away, restores innocence to the fallen, and joy to mourners, drives out hatred, fosters concord,
and brings down the mighty.” It is a tall order, no doubt, for one night to do all these things, and one might reasonably ask ourselves how it is possible that the world is really and truly changed by Easter, when there is still suffering in our lives and in the world around us.
 
If Easter is to be properly understood in our lives, we need to have our eyes fixed not merely on the sufferings of this life, but on the glory that the Lord has prepared for us in the next. A holy life, lived in accord with Jesus’ teaching can, and often does, lead to happiness in this world. But it will never eliminate the possibility of suffering or the inevitably that we will experience loss in this life. The Resurrection does not promise us that we will never suffer, but rather that our suffering is elevated and blessed by Jesus.

Easter means that when we say goodbye to someone we love, death does not have the final word. It means that when we are incapacitated by human weakness or pain, it is more than just a waste; it is part of our redemption and the redemption of the world. Easter means that when we suffer for the cause of justice and truth, we can do so knowing that Our Lord did so first, and that He has prepared a place for us in His Father’s house.  
 
The liturgical season of Easter gets even less attention than the celebration of Christmas after December 25. But it should be fifty days of celebration, not just because we are wearing white vestments and feasting instead of fasting, but because it is the recognition of God’s battle against sin and death being won. We no longer labor under the burden of fear and sin, but rather rejoice in the victory of Our God, who does not annihilate our pain and suffering in this life, but does transform it and make it a part of our salvation, in much the same way that He took the instrument of a violent death and made it a sign of hope.
 
Know of my prayers for you during this Easter season. I hope that the joy of the Risen Lord dwells in your heart, fills you with zeal for living out the Gospel, and gives you hope that all the struggles and suffering of this life will give way to the life that is to come.
 
Happy Easter,
Fr. McC