Monday, Monday

Easter Monday is always like the day after Christmas. The party is over. The leftover lamb is sitting forlorn on the counter top; it was not put away last night. The children’s plastic eggs lie empty and raided on the floor. The sun comes in the window a little harsh.

That great victory over death we celebrated yesterday—has anything changed, really?

The lesson I have to keep learning is not to look out there to see if anything has changed. The resurrection of Christ changed nothing in the world. The sun came up the next morning, and the world swirled into another day. People went to work or else they had nothing to eat. Children played in the street. Somewhere it rained and somewhere the sun shone.

Only one thing changed. That was the eyes of a few people who saw that same swirling world in a new way. They weren’t any younger or thinner or smarter or wealthier. Their cramped kitchen had not gotten larger. Their infants still nagged and whined until someone fed them. The mistakes of their past had not been wiped clean. No one whispered the contents of the future into their anxious ears.

And still it was all good, very good.

That is all Easter means, all it has ever meant. This moment, this place is right. It isn’t right and good because I make it so (this is the big Easter relief!). It is right and good because Someone else creates it anew every moment and presents it to us as a gift. It isn’t our job anymore to worry about why things don’t turn out the way we want (“if this is a gift of God, for heaven’s sake!”), and we don’t have to waste a lot of time arguing or taking sides about what we approve of and what we can’t abide. It’s just our job to enjoy it.

Happy Easter Monday.