When I was young Easter meant searching for colorful Easter eggs carefully hidden all around our house. We kids had fun seeing how many we could uncover. This year Easter means looking all around my house for a book I promised someone, the proverbial “car keys” and trying to remember who starred in a movie I just saw the other night.
During college, Easter meant a long break before final exams. Time to travel somewhere or just do nothing for a couple of weeks. Now Easter means a break from self-examination – a big chore in the Catholic Church – to just let go and enjoy that the salvation story is now complete. What was promised was delivered, what was foretold became reality.
Growing up Easter meant hearing my dad sing the opening Latin song for Easter Vigil during Mass because he was the only one who could sing Latin, having attended St. Francis Seminary in Milwaukee. This year Easter means I still can hear his strong voice fill the former St. Paul’s Church in Manitowoc.
Each Easter can be different for us because we have different issues as age piles upon age. The miracle of Easter as a ten-year-old can become the reality of Easter for an 85-year-old. The “egg search” of a six-year-old now becomes the search for peace and contentment knowing what was so elusive earlier in life is truly attainable – only if
we hold onto and live the hope of this night
the mercy that this night won for us, stays and lives within us
the “patient suffering” that was taught to us by Jesus for forty days is now ours to own
the letting go of what’s held us down for years is witnessed by a mother holding her son for the last time.
This year, Easter is entirely new regardless of how many we’ve lived through because this is the Easter we’ve witnessed this time.