Back in the days when I was a liturgist, I worked with a pastor who, every Easter proclaimed, “Now that Jesus is out of the tomb, I’m going in.” To which I replied, “Not if I get there first!”
For those who are Church Ministers, Holy Week is quite the marathon.
Sunday morning, I woke up and felt the full impact of six weeks of deep pondering and prayer, companioning, and assorted other “spiritual stuff.” All of this came to a fabulous climax during the Triduum–Holy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday. As we spent Sunday with family [wonderful!], yesterday was my turn to claim tomb time. So I did.
The work of Easter does not stop however. In the Church calendar, it takes a full 50 days to celebrate this feast. In reality, Easter is the message for life.
Today, I treated myself to a lovey Spring morning stroll. The sky, a gentle robin egg blue, played with the tender yellow green shoots of leaf and fern and moss. The air danced with an April breeze that blew not too warm nor too cool. The birds sang their little hearts into the stratosphere. If this were not enough to assure me that death does not indeed have the final word, I happened upon an Easter surprise. Poking out amid the dry and barren cattails on my path shone a patch of bright yellow daffodils!
Ahhh…a little rest and a little resurrection.