As it happens, this happened outside a grocery store. One person who was leaving the store saw the commotion and ran back into the store. He came out with a spray can. He sprayed it over the Easter bunny's flattened, lifeless form. As he did, the body began to get back into its former shape. Soon, the Easter bunny came back to life and ran down the street, waving the whole time as he went.
The motorist just had to ask: "What was it that you sprayed on the Easter bunny?"
The answer: "Hare restorer for a permanent wave."
Ha ha, death. The joke's on you!
On Thursday, Friday and Saturday of Holy Week, we have a service each day. But we don't have three Masses. We have one. It has its start on Holy Thursday, in the evening. The readings focus on the betrayal, the last supper, and the pending death of Jesus. At the end, the priest strips the altar and the candles are extinguished. Visual symbolism is very important to us Catholics, and the symbolism of these three days is obvious and moving. The people who attend may stay for a period of adoration, but we leave in silence. This is no celebration. There is no point in asking if someone else has betrayed Jesus. We all have, at some point, in some way.
But. . .
Warren Buffett tells a story of an oilman arriving at the pearly gates. St. Peter tells him, "Well, you probably could get in, but we have a special section for oilmen - see? right over there - and it's full. I can't put you in there, and I have no place else to put you. Sorry!" The oilman thinks a moment, then asks Peter: "Can I say just four words to the oilmen in there?"
Peter says, "Yeah, OK. Go ahead."
The oilman at the gate yells at the top of his voice: "OIL FOUND IN HELL!!!!"
A commotion, a rustle, and in an instant St. Peter observes, "There's lots of room in there now. Go on in!"
And the oilman says, "No, I think I'd better follow those guys. You never know. There might be something to that rumor."
Death, you do not win. You are not the last word. The joke's on you.
On Good Friday we enter the church. It's the middle part of that Mass we started the day before, so with very little by way of opening ritual we say a prayer, then we do the readings, and a reenactment of the Passion of Our Lord. That was my part in the Holy Week ceremonies; I read the Old Testament reading and the responsory Psalm. I then was the narrator in the Passion account. It's a simple service and very somber in mood. Again we leave in silence.
Saturday is the empty day. Jesus died the day previous, and he's in the tomb. But then - but then -
We gather on Saturday night. We enter a dark church (the Easter vigil service can't start before sunset.) Since Thursday night, we have been reminded of death and its seeming victory, even over Jesus himself. So, we wait in the darkness. Outside the church, the priest is lighting the fire from which he will light the Easter candle. He lights the Easter candle and proceeds to the rear of the church. We hear one voice:
Lumen Christi. Light of Christ.
And the response from all: Deo gratias! Thanks be to God!
And the light shone in the darkness, and the darkness has not extinguished it.
Praised be God!
The priest proceeds to about the middle of the church, and it's repeated: Lumen Christi! Deo gratias!
John Shea wrote, some years ago, a book entitled Stories of Faith. In the back is a poem: The Storyteller of God. I'm not normally a chokey-uppy-teary kind of guy, but every time I read this poem there are points where I have to stop. Please try to find the book and read the poem.
Toward the end of the poem there is dialogue between Death, Sin, and Fate. With Jesus in the tomb, they are debating who rules people's souls now - now that this sign of hope is safely gone and buried. The discussion is ended when, in the morning,
a stone the size of twelve men
moved like a mountain on its way to the sea
and on the fresh wind of morning
came the Son of Man
Jesus Christ is risen today! Alleluia!
Our triumphant holy day! Alleluia!
Amen! Alleluia!
HE IS RISEN!!!!
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