The brightest light of all

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Easter. The day itself has come and gone, and yet, could we say that another kind of day has begun? Might we say that, in one of those serendipitous ways in which the world mirrors itself, our days have become longer? Now that we have emerged from the darkness and shrouds of Lent into the lights, bells, and Glorias of Easter, what are we able to see with this increase of vision?

If this past Lent didn’t go as well as you might have wanted, this conclusion is redeemed in the Resurrection. If it went better than you ever could have thought, this finds its fulfillment in the Resurrection. There is no escaping its totality, no place hidden away from its light. It is at once a relief and perhaps the most intimidating charge we could possibly be given. Who are we that we should deserve the effects of this complete and utter shattering of what we have hitherto known reality to be?

As the murmuring ghosts in our culture seem to say, Easter is about life. Specifically, life in its newest, quickest form, the cartoonishly green shoots of the trees and grass a fitting background for the insistent chirping of pillow-feathered young birds. Surely as the arrival of next spring, we hide pastel eggs in our yards and exchange chocolate statuettes of rabbits. But what lies at the core? What, or Who, in fact, keeps the springs coming?

All this new life growing and coalescing around us should remind us of this: the constant operation of the same, infinite Principle which, at this very moment, continues the great work of Creation. Think of the liturgical season of Easter as a representation of this Truth in miniature; just as God did not cease to create after the initial explosion, so do we not cease to celebrate after the initial feast of Easter Sunday. The Church gives us fifty days to set aside for contemplation of this. The number of days is not insignificant. You will recall that Lent is only forty.

As Christians, we are called and re-called again each Easter to be people fully alive, making full use of the effervescence of our spirits to live as though we were already resurrected with Christ. If we attend the Easter Vigil (one could argue the single most beautiful liturgical celebration in the Church), we are witness to a powerful reminder of the continued movement of the Holy Spirit in our world; we see how God is never silent, always calling. This may sound high-minded, yet we will be well on our way to living out this call by mere belief, though not only by an outward assent, but inward, as well.

Although this event occurred in the second week of Lent, I feel that something Father Wallis said to those of us gathered for dinner after the most recent Young Adult Mass would be particularly pertinent here. During his reflection, he enjoined us to live out our lives “against the horizon of eternity.” I thought that this was such a beautiful way of distilling the Christian worldview down to its essence. Following from this, you may even say that we are called to do the precise opposite of “living in the moment.” Or is it all one eternal moment?

Nevertheless, life, living, and the infinite nature of God are each found in equal measure at the center of Easter. We must ourselves, unlike the new growth on the ground and in the trees, strive always to keep evergreen. Our souls afford us this wonderful ability. Like the re-arrival of spring each year, we must always re-arrive at the doorstep of the world, confident that, the clouds having long ago been melted, the sun will give more than enough light for us to see. And truly, to know with certainty that the battle has already been won, is surely the brightest light of all.

Walker Price earned his degree in English from UT Arlington. He attended St. Andrew Catholic School and Nolan Catholic High School in Fort Worth.