The Fire of Easter

Joel Tabora, S.J.
 Easter Sunday, 2009

The symbols of Easter always have much to say to us, and it is good that on this Easter morning we take time out to consider them.  For some of the richest of the Church’s symbolism is connected with Easter.  As – at the vigil last night – the symbol of fire.  We have been a people sitting in cold and darkness, unable to escape its bitterness, its horror.  Suddenly, the undeserved gift of fire, that conquers the darkness and brings warmth to body and consolation to the soul.  Those of you who were at the Vigil know the strength of this symbol, the emergence of a powerful flame that suddenly warms the body and makes dark shadows and dreadful shapes dance wonderfully with new, mysterious, liberated life.  You saw the fire transferred to the single Paschal Candle – symbol of Jesus, the Risen Lord -  proclaimed in its etched symbols as the Christ, the Messiah, our Savior yesterday and today, in the beginning and in the end, Alpha and the Omega, to whom all time belongs, and all ages belong, all glory and power forever.  You recall how this paschal candle was brought into the darkness of the Church, and how its flaming  light pierced the darkness and broke the night. In three stations of the Church, the deacon proclaimed, “Christ the Light!” whereas but three days earlier, in the same three stations, we were asked to behold in horror the wood of the Cross, on which the Christ had been tortuously hung. In the Easter night, it was in the happy disbelief of belief that horror is overcome in courage, that despair is overcome in hope.  It is in this belief, that our held candles received of the Paschal flame, and so became part of its wonderful light overcoming the night, part of its might finally setting things right.  In the light of this Paschal flame all are enjoined to rejoice.  The Exultet, arguably the most beautiful song of Praise in the entire liturgy of Christendom, calls on all to exult in the joy of the Risen Lord.  It is this Risen Lord who now shines on us, it is this Risen Lord who conquers the night, it is this Risen Lord who has paid the price for our sin.  It is praise in near intoxicated gratitude for the Father’s mercy:  “Father, how wonderful your care for us!  How boundless your merciful love!  To ransom a slave, you gave away your Son!”  Incredibly, incredibly we sing, “O happy fault, O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer.” We proclaim our fault happy, and our sin necessary, in that they have gained for our redeemer.

We continue to celebrate our risen Lord in the fullness of this new day’s light and its Good News.  The stone sealing the tomb has been removed.  The tomb is empty.  We hear of the consternation of Mary Magdala, the shock of Peter, the awe of John.  Suddenly, the memory that he had said that on the third day he would rise!  They recalled all that he had said.  They had had no way of imagining what it would mean.  But now it was unfolding.  This Jesus, so ignominiously executed, had been raised up;  he was now not dead, but alive.  All he had taught, all he had stood for, all he had proclaimed, was not rejected but confirmed.  We recall Jesus himself explaining the historical events to two disciples on their way to Emmaus;  we recall how their hearts had been set aflame.

Again we meet the Easter fire, burning brighter than day in the hearts of two who finally begin to understand!  Our prayer is that on this Easter Day, this fire burn in our hearts, that God somehow connect the symbols of our Easter proclamation with the symbols of our life experience and our life struggle: that the Easter Fire and the Paschal Candle and the sung invitation to rejoice come into contact with our disappointment, our discouragement, our fear, our failures:  the great goal never reached, the monumental task which surpassed our abilities, the dangers which conquered us even before we started, the great enterprises which we led to the ground.  For we are not strangers to darkness: that shadowy corner of our life we refuse to surrender to the Lord’s light, that area of pride which in “our greatness” we refuse to subject to the Lord’s might, that rationalized relationship which we reserve to the cover of night.  We have shackled ourselves to dwelling in the darkness and in the shadow of death.  But it is against this darkness and death that – in the tender compassion of our God – the dawn from on high breaks upon us, kindling our hearts to fresh hope in the resurrection of the Lord. 

The joy of the Resurrection: it is nothing automatic, nothing that can be forced, nothing that can be taken for granted.  The Resurrection is God’s gift to us, won at great price.  It is something he freely shares with us, as from one Fire our fires are lit. 

On the other hand, in our world, the joy of the Resurrection is a fragilely flickering flame that must be tended.  If Jesus is risen, we cannot be stuck in Good Friday, overwhelmed by the Black Saturday proclamation that God is dead.  If Jesus is risen, we cannot live with the cynical attitude that sin and evil always trump goodness and fidelity.  If Jesus is risen, we cannot think that corruption and death ultimately always win.  If Jesus is risen we cannot live defeated by our weakness and sin.  Because if Jesus is risen, we have a Christ, we have a Messiah, we have a Savior, and so can breathe more freely as we wrestle with the world’s ambiguities and work out life’s compromises and confront those matters that we truly regret.  If Christ is alive, I may quietly open myself to him being my Messiah gratefully.  If Christ is alive, those stubborn faults I know are there can look more like “happy faults”, and those heavy sins which seem to defy even divine forgiveness are now more like “necessary sins” as in our repentant prodigality we are warmed by the Father’s embrace.

The joy of the resurrection:  it is a nurtured flame undeserved; it is an unnecessary joy for us so desperately needy.  May this unearned fire be yours, today, may you keep it alive in the warmth of His embrace, and share it with many others – beginning with those closest to you. May it change your life, and change the world!