Today Christians throughout the world celebrate Easter Day, known as the Feast of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the Dead.
The familiar story of the women coming to the tomb of Jesus to prepare his body for proper burial and finding an empty tomb is central to the belief system of Christians. It is not without debate…whether it is to be understood literally, figuratively, or a combination of both. Depending upon one’s tools of belief determines how the story is incorporated into a faith stance.
However, the debate does not diminish or trivialize the the significance of the basic premise that Jesus’ earthly presence was not concluded by his crucifixion and death upon the cross on Good Friday. Easter may be a historic date, a metaphor, or some other way of referring to the story, but Christians believe that Jesus’ influence and compassion for humankind is a continuing story, uninterrupted by his cruel death at the hands of his enemies. For more than two thousand years that resurrection faith has been the foundation of a community of believers that circles the globe and defies the manifold attempts to undermine or destroy it.
The principal emotion that dominates Easter Day is that of joy. It is celebrated in music, the arts, liturgy, and personal and family observances. (Too many times it is characterized by dull, overly-intellectual words and emphasis on doctrines, rules, and restrictions…elements that are foreign to the early Church’s observances.) I am more drawn to the upbeat celebrations which are best seen through the wondrous eyes of children. Not yet phased by arguments about origins and interpretations, they are filled with wondrously-naive awe at the story, revel in the Easter egg celebrations and end the day knowing that something very special has taken place.
Several years ago our then-teenage grand-daughter was visiting for Easter, having recovered from a tragic stroke that left her physically limited…but alive. We went to a church near our daughter’s home which was appropriately decorated. The choir was properly rehearsed. The young Priest had prepared a good sermon. But Rachyl, in her own personal resurrection life, chose to wear a pair of those pink bunny ears that fit over your head like a tiara. There was an inconsistency with her maturing age, but there was a powerful consistency with her joy at being alive. The Priest began his sermon, but had to stop to smile and laugh with Rachyl, who sat proudly in front of him sporting her Easter symbols in a way that trivialized his intellectual defense of the empty tomb. The congregation joined in expressing the fun which Rachyl’s bunny ears drew out. I have thought over the past several years that his sermon and the congregation’s observance of Easter Day were enhanced by Rachyl’s bunny ears. She saw Easter through the eyes of a child.
In a few short hours we will head off to St. Mary’s Parish for celebration of the Easter liturgy. I’m going to try to pretend that I’m sitting in the pew with pink bunny ears on my head.
Graphic Credit: bunny ears
