Happy Easter! Happy Sunday!
Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord
An irate subscriber
called the local newspaper at midday,
demanding
to know why he had not received
his
Sunday morning paper.
“Norman,”
came the reply, “today is Saturday.
The
Sunday Times
will be delivered tomorrow as usual.”
There
was a long pause on the other end,
and
you could almost hear the wheels
turning in Norman’s head
before
at last he said,
“Well—that
just might explain
why
no one else showed up
for Mass this morning…”
On the first day of the
week,
Mary of Magdala came to the
tomb early in the morning…
Timing
is everything, right?
And
it’s no different when the eternal
breaks
into what is transitory,
when
God bursts onto the human scene.
Do
not the Scriptures say
that
it was “in the fullness of time”—
only
when the moment was exactly right—
that
God sent his Son to ransom us from sin and death? (Gal 4:4-15)
Timing
matters,
and
divine timing matters most of all.
We’re
all familiar with the first chapters of Genesis—aren’t we?—
which
give us the well-known story of the creation of the world.
Over
the course of six days,
God
makes the heavens, the earth, and all their array,
and
on the seventh day God rests.
We
shouldn’t be surprised, then,
that
when the Creator takes flesh
to
rescue his creation,
the
progression of days is anything but accidental.
Set
the seven days of creation side-by-side
with
the seven days of the Holy Week we’ve just completed,
and the parallels between the two are rather astonishing.
and the parallels between the two are rather astonishing.
On
the first day, when light was created,
Christ
enters Jerusalem in triumph—
the
Light from Light appearing in his own city.
On
a Thursday night, as the sixth day begins,
Jesus
partakes of the Passover lamb
on
the same day the cattle and wild animals were created.
On
that day when man was created—
and,
according to an ancient tradition,
on
the very same spot where Adam was buried—
the
God-man was crucified that all mankind might be saved.
On
the day when God rested from all his creative labors,
Jesus
lay asleep in death, resting in the tomb.
And
then, on Easter morning, early on a Sunday,
on
the first day of the week,
the
very same day when creation first came into being,
the
human race is given a fresh start
as the
new creation begins. (cf. M. Mosebach)
Yes—God’s
timing matters.
Unlike
some other feasts—such as Christmas—
which
float about through the seven days of the week,
Easter
is always on a Sunday.
And
that’s immensely significant:
Easter is always a Sunday,
because
Sunday is always Easter.
Now,
that’s not to say every Sunday should be celebrated
with
chocolate bunnies, jelly beans, and brightly colored bonnets.
But
every Sunday—not just this particular one—
ought
to be marked by a festive, holiday atmosphere.
This
is the day when Christ broke the chains of death
and
rose triumphant over the grave!
This
is the day when sin was vanquished
and
the gates of Paradise reopened!
This
is the day that sets us free—
the
day of liberation for which we long!
And
because of what happened today,
nothing
will ever be the same again.
Which
is why, from the days of the Apostles,
those
who believe in Jesus have gathered on Sunday—
and
not just once a year, but once each week.
Here—in Word and Sacrament—
and
now—on this, the day the Lord has
made—
we
come together to rejoice through, with, and in him
whose
resurrection gives new life to the whole world.
God’s
timing matters.
And
our timing matters, too.
That’s
why we need to take back our Sundays.
In
many ways, they’ve become just like any of the other six days,
except
for squeezing in a trip to church.
We
need to re-learn at our core that every Sunday is Easter.
Now,
two things are essential to a true sabbath—
to a
day of real rest,
to a
day kept by people who know they’ve been set free—
and
they are praying and playing.
To
call Sunday the Lord’s Day
and
then omit one or the other is to miss the point.
But
“half-sabbaths” have become a specialty of our culture:
either
we’ve gone to church but haven’t played,
or we’ve
gone to the stadium but haven’t prayed.
(cf. T.
Ryan)
Making
time both to pray and to play
is fundamental
to what Sunday is all about:
the
day of our re-creation.
The
younger of my two nieces
but
she seems to already understand
this concept fairly well.
All
through the somber season of Lent,
about
halfway through Sunday Mass
she’d
turned to her parents and ask repeatedly,
“Why
we no sing, ‘Alleluia’?”
She’s
been loudly singing “Alleluia”
(or
her own version of the word, at least)
since
shortly after she began to talk.
It’s
absolutely her favorite part of Mass!
She
noticed—and was troubled by—its absence.
And
I know of other little ones
who’ve done much the same—
in
their own way, giving voice to the great joy
which
ought always to be the hallmark
of this sacred day.
Unlike
us grown ups,
they
still know how to pray and play
in the same breath.
That’s
the sense of Sunday we need to recover,
because
timing is everything.
Your
newspaper was probably delivered as usual this morning.
May
nothing else be usual about this day!
It
is Easter, so it must be Sunday.
And
it is Sunday, so it must be Easter.
As
we, in a few moments, renew the promises of our Baptism,
let
us also recommit ourselves
to
a genuine keeping of the Lord’s day:
this
first day of the week;
this
day of play and of prayer;
this
day when a tomb once found empty
still
fills hearts with wonder and delight.
This is the day the Lord has
made;
let
us rejoice and be glad!
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