Alleluia! He is risen! Happy Easter! We made it! Alleluia!
Can I confess a little something, though? The Lenten lead-up to Easter is so powerful, especially with the days of the Holy Triduum, that once we finally get here, I am a little uncertain of how to celebrate. Especially when I realize we are expected to hold onto that joy for 50 days until Pentecost, I’m not quite sure how to proceed.
Somehow it seems easier to lean into the penance and sacrifice of Lent than the extended exultation of Easter. Maybe a day or two—or even a week—of rejoicing seems manageable. But 50 days? How will we ever be able sustain it? A celebration of that magnitude almost feels like its own burden—like a party that goes on too long.
It’s a legitimate challenge. But what a beautiful one. What a powerful one.
Because of course we don’t leave Lent behind as if it’s some distant memory. We know all too well that Jesus’ suffering and death for us was and is real. But here we are at Easter. Jesus has conquered death. He has taken all our sins onto himself and opened the gates of heaven forever. The history of the world has changed.
Anything and everything is possible.
So, we live in the rejoicing of Easter. Of course, we still have our crosses. Naturally, our days are not perfect bliss.
But God invites us to recognize that even with all our earthly burdens and struggles, we are destined for a greater joy. We may lose the battles, but we will win the war. There is a victory that surpasses any loss or grief or difficulty we might face on earth. And that brings rejoicing deep within us, a joy that offers life-giving hope, a joy that gives purpose to our days, a joy that brings comfort and reassurance.
Today, I was running errands in an unfamiliar place, and I found myself glancing at the faces of strangers. I’m not sure why, but I realized I was thinking, “God died for that person…and that person…and that person…and that one, too.”
And he did. He died for you and for me, too. What an extraordinary gift, one that we can never fully find words to describe. No wonder we are called to rejoice. And perhaps it is the enormity of it that makes it hard for me, a mere human, to know what to do with this enormous idea.
“This is the amazing discovery of that Easter morning: the stone, the immense stone, was rolled away,” Pope Francis told us in his Urbi et Orbi message on Easter. “The astonishment of the women is our astonishment as well: the tomb of Jesus is open, and it is empty! From this, everything begins anew! A new path leads through that empty tomb: the path that none of us, but God alone, could open: the path of life in the midst of death, the path of peace in the midst of war, the path of reconciliation in the midst of hatred, the path of fraternity in the midst of hostility.”
Everything begins anew. Only God could make it happen. And here we are on the cusp of a new beginning where anything and everything is possible.
We are full of joy. Perhaps all we can do is what we are always called to do—share the joy with others. And so, we rejoice together, in heaven and on earth, hearts full of gratitude and hope and peace.
May these 50 days nurture your soul and fill you with joy beyond understanding.
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