Extending the Easter celebration

On the feast of Easter Sunday, we see that the long Lenten fast has been worthwhile. For 40 days we purged our souls of mortal desires, and watched them slowly fill up with Christ. We celebrate that fulfillment on Easter Sunday, newly grateful for the sacrifice.

Apr 16, 2014

By Katherine Talalas
On the feast of Easter Sunday, we see that the long Lenten fast has been worthwhile. For 40 days we purged our souls of mortal desires, and watched them slowly fill up with Christ. We celebrate that fulfillment on Easter Sunday, newly grateful for the sacrifice.

At Easter, we freely express our joy. We participate in beautiful Masses, in churches filled with flowers, where hundreds of voices sing the reclaimed "Alleluia!" We eat big meals with our families (including all the favorites we missed during Lent), and watch children hunt for eggs bursting with treats. Even the weather rejoices. The sun shines and flowers bloom as if to bless our indulgence in these good things.

Yet, like any good party, there is a letdown following this great feast. The exquisite satisfaction we experience when we are finally able to gratify our senses inevitably goes away. There can even be a sense of spiritual bloatedness.

We are bursting with treats. Our Lenten sacrifices have ended, making room to celebrate our freedom in Christ. Yet after our initial exultation, we are unsure of how to handle this freedom. As a result, too soon, we feel like our old selves. The sense of transformation we experienced following our Lenten journey disappears.

Is it possible to "keep" Easter in us throughout the year? Or must we be in a constant state of penitence to remain transformed in Christ?

A poem about St. Veronica by Sheldon Vanauken, titled "The Sword," illustrates the transformation she experienced after witnessing Christ's passion:

"Yes, Mark was posted to the Tenth that year," it begins. "The day we got there priests contrived to bring this 'god' to death, and mobs that made me cling to Mark surged round us, all one mocking jeer."

It continues as Veronica watches the scene unfold before her.

"No omen warned me when Mark led me near the yelling street that I should be implored by God to wear my girlhood like a sword, so edged with mercy, men would freeze in fear. ... 'My child,' he said and staggered on to die. My girlhood lay in fragments at my feet."

Veronica's girlhood was shattered by watching the torture of the most innocent of men. She was never the same. Yet, the death knell to her girlhood was a good thing. Though her heroic compassion for Christ ended her innocence, it made her a saint.

In a way, our confrontation with the Crucifixion on Good Friday allows us to grow up before the "graduation party" of Easter. There is a reason catechumens are welcomed into the church at Easter, after they have walked with the Lord through his season of suffering. We cannot appreciate the miracle of the Resurrection until we accept the horror of the Crucifixion.

Perhaps the best way to "keep" Easter is to keep Christ's passion fresh in our hearts.

Yes, we can eat, drink and be merry for the glory of God, but doing something for the glory of God can mean more than giving brief acknowledgement to our creator.

God the Father's great glory on earth was in sacrificing his son for us while we were yet sinners. And God the Son's glory was in being sacrificed. The joy of Easter comes in no small measure from reliving this vividly on Good Friday.

How can we keep that joy in us well after the Easter season has passed? By praying, by spending time with a friend who is hurting, instead of leaving them alone in their pain, by pausing before we eat a tasty snack, drink a glass of wine or play our favorite song, and look to the cross for a moment.

The memory of Christ's sacrifice will make such blessings all the sweeter.

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