Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord
I
gave up a number of things this Lent—
all
things I’ve given up before:
eating
dessert, snacking between meals, drinking alcohol.
None
of those gave me any real trouble.
But
I also gave up coffee.
I’d
noticed myself getting more and more caffeine dependant,
and
I didn’t think that was a very healthy thing,
so
I figured it best to nip it in the bud.
I
allowed myself one cup a week—my Sunday coffee.
This
did not go so well.
In
fact, one Sunday after lunch,
I
made myself a café latte so large
it
had the whole pot—nearly six shots—of espresso in it!
(I’m
lucky I’ve ever been able to fall asleep since.)
Many
an afternoon, as my energy began to fade,
I
found myself longing for the taste of that hot bean beverage.
I
even caught myself saying,
“I’m
just dying to have a cup of coffee!”
But,
wait a minute…dying? For coffee?
I
know it’s just a figure of speech, but it begs the question:
What
would you die for?
On
February 12, 304,
31
men and 18 women were arrested in Abitina,
a village
in north Africa.
Their
crime? Illegal assembly.
They
had gathered for Mass on Sunday.
Not
quite a year before,
the
emperor had issued an edict which—among other things—
forbade
Christians from coming together to worship.
The
penalty was death.
When
interrogated at their trial as to why they’d violated the decree,
several
members of the group spoke up.
“We
must celebrate the Lord’s Day,” one said.
“It’s
a law for us!”
Another
responded, “As if a man could be a Christian
without
keeping the Lord’s Day!
Just
as there can be no Sunday without Christians,
so
there can be no Christians without Sunday.”
And
when the owner of the house where Mass had been offered
was
questioned as to why he hadn’t prevented it,
he
replied, “Impossible!
We
cannot live without the Eucharist!
We
cannot live without the Lord’s Day!”
These
49 Christians knew what they would die for—
and
they did: they were all martyred.
They
would die for Sunday.
The
first book of the Bible tells us
that,
on the seventh day, God rested.
Creating
the universe is obviously hard work!
Observing
this weekly day of rest—
enshrined
as the third commandment—
was
to be a distinguishing mark of God’s chosen people.
The
Lord had freed them with a mighty arm from slavery in Egypt;
he
didn’t want them living or acting like slaves ever again.
As
we’ve recalled once more during this Paschal Triduum:
on
the seventh day, Jesus also rested,
lying
quite quiet and still in a borrowed tomb.
Redeeming
the world is hard work, too—
deadly
work, as a matter of fact.
And
so we find God yet again taking a sabbath rest.
When the sabbath was over…
…very early on the first day
of the week, they came to the tomb.
From
that first Easter,
Christians
have kept Sunday sacred.
Because
it’s the first day of the week,
Sunday
recalls the first creation—
when
God made the heavens and the earth;
but
Sunday, if you will, is also the eighth day:
the
day marking the new creation
ushered in by Christ’s Resurrection—
ushered in by Christ’s Resurrection—
the
day of new beginnings, of new and everlasting life.
You
might say that every Sunday is a little Easter:
not
a day of colored eggs, chocolate bunnies, and frilly hats,
but
the day consecrated by Jesus when he rose from the grave.
Better
yet, instead of thinking of Sunday as a little Easter,
we
ought to think of Easter as the greatest of Sundays.
Like
the sabbath of the first covenant,
the
Lord’s Day was to be a distinguishing mark of Christians.
And
for many centuries, it was.
(Just
ask those 49 martyrs of Abitina!)
People
used to have their “Sunday best”:
special
clothes to be worn only on that special day.
In
many places, the law of the land
protected
Sunday worship and rest by restricting business.
We
even still speak of “Sunday drivers” on the road,
who
apparently have no reason to be rushing along.
But
gradually, Sunday is becoming more and more like any other day.
Most
everybody shops or takes care of their chores.
Many
adults work just like they do on the other six days.
And
while kids may not have school to attend,
they’re
often equally busy with sports, whether practice or games.
The
uniqueness of Sunday has gotten lost in “the weekend”—
not
a day belonging to the Lord, but a “free” day.
It’s
getting to be that you can’t distinguish Sunday…
…and
you can’t distinguish Christians.
My
friends,
the
Resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead
in
the wee hours of a Sunday morning—
the
mystery into which you and I were baptized—
changes
everything.
Or,
at least, it’s supposed to.
Can
we allow it to influence how we spend our time?
To rearrange our calendar and our priorities?
What would you die for?
To rearrange our calendar and our priorities?
What would you die for?
Would
you die for that day
which
belongs to the one who died for you?
Better
yet: What do you live for?
Will
you live solely for him who rose
that
you might have life and have it more abundantly—
not
a life enslaved to the world, the flesh, or the devil,
but
a life of true freedom,
a
life that finds its rest and refreshment in him?
No
lie:
I’m
very much looking forward to my Easter Sunday coffee…
…and
probably some on Easter Monday,
Tuesday, and Wednesday, too!
But
I wouldn’t die for it, and I wouldn’t die without it.
But
like those saintly martyrs from north Africa,
it
would be impossible for me to live without the Eucharist,
to
live without the Lord’s Day.
There
can be no Sunday without Christians;
there
can be no Christians without Sunday.
This indeed is the day the Lord has made;
let us rejoice and be glad
in it.This indeed is the day the Lord has made;
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