Imagine if the sun had no effect.
Imagine what it would be like if the
days got longer and longer each spring, and the sun came closer and shone
brighter - and nothing happened. Days
would be longer – but just as cold.
Flowers and trees would put forth buds, only to have them covered over
with snow, not blossoms. Fruit would be
out of the question.
I admit this grim scenario is
brought to mind by the seemingly interminable extension of winter and
tantalizing postponement of spring we have endured lately. My inner Alabaman groans at every forecast of
further chill, every bright sunny day that bites with Arctic teeth any soul
foolish enough to step out into what should
be a spring day.
But I can indulge in such apocalyptic
complaining, because I know that the end is near - the end of winter, that
is. The sun's share of the day is
growing, and we will not be denied its warmth and light. Soon enough, we will be seeking shade, or
worse, air conditioning! Unless something
- say, a great cloud of volcanic debris - come between us and the sun, there is
no chance that the sun will not warm our part of the planet into verdant
fruitfulness.
Imagine if the Resurrection had no
effect.
Imagine if one day, a long time ago,
a man dead three days had risen from his tomb and gone about visiting his
friends, explaining how he had predicted this all along. Imagine that after this bizarre phenomenon,
he was somehow different, so that he could go through closed doors, and sometimes
go unrecognized by people who had known him well. But he was also somehow the same, eating and
drinking and laughing with his friends, who saw his face and touched his hands
and knew him immediately. And then he
disappeared into the sky.
Would we treasure the story, like we
do snatches of information of long-dead ancestors who migrated from faraway
lands? Or would we simply memorize it
with other data, like William the Conqueror in 1066, Christopher Columbus in
1492, and the Baltimore Ravens in Super Bowl XLVII?
Sometimes it can seem as if the
Resurrection of the Lord Jesus has been confined to just this kind of category:
a blip on the historical radar, an anomaly, a curiosity, a story of once upon a
time, and only once. It has been buried
beneath an avalanche of conflicting data and contrary opinions.
That impressive late-spring snow we
had last week covered everything with an inarguable winter. The sun was invisible behind thick clouds all
day, and the air temperature hovered near freezing. Nonetheless, the snow didn’t stand a chance. It melted, first on the pavement, and then on
the grass and trees. The ultraviolet
rays from that invisible spring sun were
strong enough to warm the ground despite the cloud cover and cold breeze.
Like the sun, the Risen Christ is at
work whether seen or not, whether acknowledged or denied. Christ is risen, and that reality, though invisible,
is at work now, in the lives of us who have been baptized into it, and even
where ignorance or hostility reject it. Behold, I make all things new! This radiance changes the world in its
substance, and makes lives inhospitable to death. Unless something - say, a great cloud of persistent sin -
come between us and our Savior, Christ our Sun, there is no chance that the Risen
One will not warm our lives into abundant fruitfulness.
So do not imagine your own
destruction. The sun will warm you, and
Christ Jesus is risen from the dead. The
Resurrection of Our Lord Jesus Christ, even though we cannot see it ourselves, is
what is real, in this world, and in
us. This is who we are and what we are
for.
On this holy day, may you grow in
awareness of and gratitude for this radiant truth that makes life
possible. Father McDonell, Father
McCabe, and all of us here at your parish pray that you enjoy this reality, and
bask in the glory of a blessed Easter. Amen.
Alleluia!
Monsignor Smith
