Easter

Well now that everyone has officially entered into the season of Easter, I do not feel badly about writing an Easter post. (Well… to be perfectly honest, I completely forgot about my blog…. graduate studies and all.)  Anyway, if you happen to be in the Wheaton area next year, you are coming to Holy Week with me at Church of the Resurrection.  Don’t argue; it’s going to happen.

Its beautiful; its tumultuous; it is entirely enigmatic.  Imagine this scene.  For the past month you have given up something beneficial, something that is engraved into who you are.  Instead of filling yourself and being sustained, you replace this something with giving of yourself to others.  You give up sustenance and are doing more charitable deeds than before.  This is exhausting, and it is sobering; so much so you don’t dare let the word “Alleluia” pass from your lips.

Suddenly, you hear a wonderful rumor.  You hear that the Messiah is coming into the city.  You hear that he has come, that he will overthrow every injustice, that he will give you freedom from the oppression that has forever weighed you down.  You hear a distant sound, coming closer, closer all the while.  What started out as a still breeze is becoming louder, louder.  And you see! You see him!  The messiah!  The entire city has come out to greet him.  Everyone is shouting, singing, and laughing.  Hosanna! Hosanna indeed.  How can you help but join in the surging, dancing throng ascending up the hill, going up to worship.  Hosanna in the highest!…..except.  Except you know what is coming.  You know that however joyous this occasion is, you know that it is only a faint glimmer before the darkest night in history.  Hosanna, but not Alleluia.

And yet, it is joyous.  You are with family, those closer than your family.  It is because you care for them so much that you would do anything for them.  And so out of love and to honor them, you kneel down and wash their feet.  Yes, it is humbling, but here you realize that something is right.  Something tells you that this right here, this loving service is what your life is really about.  You weren’t created to be a consumer; you weren’t meant to endlessly fill yourself up with sustenance.  You were meant to give yourself away.  And just when you realize this, you hear the priest say one last time. “This is my body, broken for you.  This is my blood, poured out for you.”

And you realize that you were the one that handed over the Messiah in betrayal unto pain and death.  You were the one who forsook the joy of the hosanna for thirty pieces of silver.  You become confused and agitated.  You cannot think, cannot eat.  “Who is that man being tried for blasphemy?  I certainly don’t know him.” The rooster crows and you realize how utterly unworthy you are to be called his disciple.  You stumble around, barely listening to the subdued singing as you force yourself to follow Christ to Golgotha, and you watch him get crucified.  There, you realize what a fool you have been.  In the full knowledge of your culpability and in knowledge of Christ’s wishes, you reach out to your closest brother or sister, and you confess your part in helping to facilitate the feud between family members.  And together, you heart longs for the days when you both said alleluia…. but not today, never today.

As you sit there in the complete darkness, you hear a knocking sound.  A voice calls out, strong and true, “The light of Christ.”  And you join in with all the others “Thanks be to God.”  But why?  What is this light?  You saw the light be extinguished just a moment ago, and you know the abyss which swallowed the light.  Then God shows you this light.  You see a true story laid out before you.  You see how God created the heavens and the earth.  You see how your ancestors threw away the majesty of God for inferior fruit.  You see the flood and all its devastation.  You see how God was faithful to His promises to Abraham and all of Israel, and you hear how He has promised to deliver you still.  And as you are still trying to comprehend this story, something starts to happen.  You see people being asked if they believe and if they will serve.  And you have a glimmer of hope, because they say, “I believe in the resurrection.”   And suddenly the priest is before you, and he is shouting.  “Alleluia! Christ is Risen!” And pandemonium breaks loose.  Everyone is shouting at the top of their lungs Alleluia! Alleluia!  They are making as much noise as humanly and inhumanly possible.  Well over one thousand people are shouting “He is alive! He is alive.”  You see a one hundred foot banner of the risen Christ being lifted before the rejoicing throng.  Your feet cannot hold still; your hands will not keep from clapping.  Finally, after forty long days, you join the unending shout; you lift up your eyes to Christ, Alleluia!