This morning I was thinking about holidays and wondering why Easter isn’t celebrated as much as Christmas. Because this is the holiday that marks something truly extraordinary: Jesus dies and three days later, he is resurrected, fresh as a rose. He says goodbye to his friends, takes his leave and goes. But not to an ordinary destination. He goes up to heaven and sits to the right of the Father.
Christmas, on the other hand, celebrates a birth. Although it is true that it is the birth of Jesus, at the end of the day, the event itself is not extraordinary.
And yet we like it, we understand it and we are moved by it. A common event, yet extraordinary at the same time. In the darkest moments, during wars, when everything seems lost, the arrival of a child brings joy to everyone. And it doesn’t matter much that the newborn happens not to be the Savior.
The Resurrection, however, happened only to Jesus. Sure, for heaven’s sake, he suffered a lot and had a gruesome death. But afterwards he saw his torturers punished and ended up settling in a good place forever.
Ordinary people, on the other hand, die just the same, often in equally atrocious circumstances. But for them, after three days, you’ll find them exactly where you left them.
They do say that one day, we will all rise again. When exactly, we don’t know, but what is certain is that good people will go to heaven. But we don’t know where they’ll all sit either. Between saints, the blessed, angels and cherubs — the best places have long been taken.
And maybe that’s the problem with Easter. Yes, Resurrection is great. But are we really sure we want to spend eternity on our feet?
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