There are two “major” celebrations on the church calendar – Christmas and Easter. One we celebrate with joy and festivity. The other we generally celebrate quietly, with a little more reserve and certainly a lot more reverence and solemnity.
The latter, of course, is Easter – actually a compilation of the days that begin on Palm Sunday and end with Christ’s resurrection, encompassing His great command at the Thursday Eucharistic meal, His passion, and His reprehensible death along the way.
But to look at Easter season with sadness, I feel, is missing the whole point. These few days are the foundation of our entire faith. Without the pain, suffering, death – and most important – resurrection, Jesus was just another kind-hearted man with a vision.
Certainly, the agony is worth remembering. In fact, the agony is worth feeling. But it is the resurrection we should focus on … and that should give us reason to celebrate – really celebrate.
When I was growing up – as, probably, most of us can remember – the emphasis of Lent was denial. And being just average kids, we looked forward to Sundays because we could “forget” the denials – candy, ice cream or whatever. It was a “day off.”
Then came Holy Week. The palms were nice, but again, the focus shifted immediately into the passion and for the next few days, Jesus’ suffering was drummed into our heads. Good Friday was a day of quiet, reflecting on Jesus’ death.
Somehow, that was almost the end of the message. Easter Sunday was anti-climactic. We spent so much time dwelling on the death of Jesus, His resurrection almost got lost.
At Christmas, we celebrate the birth of Jesus. Despite the commercialism that has grown, as a faith community we can sense the joy of the season. It is truly a celebration.
What about Easter? Is that same joy present? Is there any joy present?
I don’t think so.
Over the years I’ve theorized about why. Perhaps it is because there is no fixed date. Perhaps it is because we are, generally, still depressed from a long winter.
But perhaps it is also because we reduce the entire Lenten season – particularly Holy Week and Good Friday – to the suffering Jesus. As humans, we don’t like suffering … in ourselves or in others.
As a result, our minds and emotions shut down around Good Friday. It’s just too painful for us to watch this Jesus die this death. It becomes even more painful when we consider He died for us, our sins contributed to the weight of the cross, the sting of the nails, the labored breathing, the disgraceful death.
The focal point of the season should be 36 hours later … Easter, the empty tomb. We should have our eyes on that empty tomb at Easter – just as we have out eyes fixed on the crib at Christmas.
While sharing the Eucharistic meal, we should recognize the Jesus of the empty tomb. While recalling the passion of Jesus, we should be looking to that empty tomb. While reflecting on the crucifixion, we should contemplate its meaning as a necessary step from this world to the empty tomb. As we ponder the mystery of the risen Christ at Vigil, Sunrise or Easter services, we should see the mystery in light of that empty tomb.
A moved rock, nothing but a shroud, an empty tomb. That’s the foundation of our faith. Jesus’ resurrection makes it possible for us to be resurrected. And just as Jesus replaced His spot in the tomb for a place at His Father’s table, so, too, will our tomb be emptied and we will join Father, Son, Spirit and our fellow believers at that same table.
That’s cause for celebration.
THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that. Because what the world needs is people who have come alive.
This originally was written while I was editor at the Catholic Standard, newspaper for the Archdiocese of Washington, DC; re-published in my newspaper, Reveille/Between the Lakes; and previously on this blog. I thought I would share it with this new audience as well.
Ponderations 
The question was simple. “What do you do when you just don’t feel like writing?”
All that brings us full circle to the original question. It came from a budding author and writer’s block is a very real issue. My flippant answer was directed at the writing community in particular. My books — published and in progress — came after retiring. I’m not writing books as a profession, although there are authors who do. They might have a different take.
To sum up, I can’t tell you how many times I just didn’t feel like writing. I didn’t write … until passion caught up with my mind. I didn’t force writing, like from 10 a.m.-noon … but waited for the flow, be it during dinner or at 2:30 in the morning {yes, those happened}.
“And I said to the man who stood at the gate of the year, ‘Give me a light that I may tread safely into the unknown.’ And he replied, ‘Go out into the darkness and put your hand into the hand of God. That shall be to you better than light and safer than a known way.'”
“Go to the village ahead of you, and at once you will find a donkey tied there, with her colt by her. Untie them and bring them to Me.” – Matthew 21:2 (NIV)
The Gospels of Mark, Luke, and John all speak of the triumphant entry, and all speak of one colt. Only Matthew speaks of a donkey (NIV) or ass (KJV) with her colt. And the text of Matthew is clear there are two animals tied, waiting to be loosed … and then used for God’s purposes.
Bishop Reddick III, the 51st bishop elected in the Christian Methodist Episcopal (CME) Church, has been presiding bishop of the Eighth Episcopal District (
Let’s remember to approach the throne room and respond with faith and not fear, knowing the promises of God and His mighty hand will hold us through any situation! Sometimes, all it takes is just one prayer to change everything. Something extraordinary happens when two or more agree together in prayer.
Sixteen year old Erin suffers from severe depression and suicidal tendencies. Please include her — and all who are dealing with mental challenges — on your prayer list.
We come to You, Lord, because prayer is the least yet the greatest thing we can do for each other. When two or more are gathered in Your name, we confidently know You are with us. What better company can we have? You reign and we trust You! We may be broken and battered but know You heal and quiet the soul. You are the source for all that happens in our lives. We thank You for the progress being made. We thank You for the many blessings we have received this week — some we unfortunately didn’t notice. Nonetheless, those blessings are ever-present in our lives. We thank You for healing. We thank You for slowing us down. We thank You for providing us our daily needs — no more and no less. We thank You for being with us, listening to us, walking with us on this journey. We thank You for the support of our family and friends … for seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary — sunrises, sunsets, flowers, kids laughing, adventures, good news amid the bad news. We know we can come to You with our concerns and they will be heard. Through Christ all things are possible. We lift up those family members and friends who are battling various physical, emotional, financial, career or spiritual issues and ask not for Your guidance and healing (although that would be welcomed) but to keep reminding us we are not alone in our battles. Specifically we lift up Andrew, Dave, Julie, Fred, Jonathan, Erin, Betty and her brother, Shirley, Victoria, Allan, Mondo, Gunny, Hudson, Matilda, and all those needing Your healing and guiding touch. We pray for the families of all those You have called home. We grieve … You celebrate. We pray for obedience to Your Will so Your “Son” Light shines through us through the power of the Spirit. And we come to You through the confidence of the words taught by Your Son Jesus. In Jesus’ Name, Amen.
You know the drill. We get our weekly prompt, let the spirit flow for five minutes, post, link up in the Community section at 
We’ve been pretty much cooped up in our houses for a coupe of weeks and look forward to about another month of restricted movement.
I wonder how people will react after we look at this pandemic through the rear view mirror. It will come to an end. Will we — starting with me — have learned anything about ourselves? Will we {me} use this forced time out to focus on ourselves or society in general? Will we become more self-centered with an emphasis on things or less self-centered with an emphasis on others? Will we re-prioritize our lives or jump back into business as usual? Will we look at the heroes of this pandemic — the scientists, doctors, nurses,hospital staff, first responders, essential line workers, truckers, restaurant staff — differently, maybe with a little more respect? Will we recognize a job is just a job and the heart of existence is our interdependence with each other — starting with our family unit? Will this experience strengthen our faith or weaken it?
I’m not worried about my friend. I am concerned. I also realize all I can do is try to soften his heart to the Healer’s touch. He alone will choose which button he pushes when that last breath comes. My job is to give him a reason to push the Up button.
Don’t succumb to the fear mongers. As bad as this virus is, keep it in perspective. A 1-2% mortality rate is alarming, but look at the 98-99% recovery rate. Don’t allow the greater New York City metropolitan area statistics drive you to a state of fear in your community. You can find up-to-date information on covid-19 at the 
Brief Ponderations 
To follow up on my first revelation, I might delve into rewriting Yes, There Is a Santa … and I’ve Met Him Personally Many Times, a story I wrote last Christmas for my grandchildren. It needs work — like condensing and making it more interesting for a younger audience. It will be — in my mind — designed to be read by a parent/guardian or other reader with bright, bold illustrations to draw in the younguns and an underlying message the narrator could appreciate. Since it needs the most immediate work and has a deadline if it is to become available for Christmas delivery, this cooperative project {it will involve the services of an illustrator} might jump to the front of the line.
The Light 