Don’t throw out those crusty Peeps yet. Easter isn’t over.
At a haircut the Monday after Resurrection Sunday, small talk turned to the weekend, to Easter Egg hunts and family dinners, to the excitement and exhaustion of celebration and housefulls. Her scissors snapped the conversation closed with, “ah, but now it’s back to normal life.”
For many Christians, the Easter season is just one – albeit the Big One – event along the journey of a year in worship and life together. For many, they won’t get around to “ordinary time” until after Pentecost, still a ways off, which itself ain’t chopped liver. For some, Easter Sunday begins the events of Easter Week, which continue with Bright Monday. The procession leads out of the church and into a world “charged with the grandeur of God,” as Gerard Manly Hopkins wrote,
There lives the dearest freshness deep down things;
And though the last lights off the black West went
Oh, morning, at the brown brink eastward, springs—
Because the Holy Ghost over the bent
World broods with warm breast and with ah! bright wings.
The “resurrection parade” leads us, every First Day of the Week, in a Dance of Realigning Hope in which everyone and everything has a role. As Eugene Peterson renders it,
He was supreme in the beginning and—leading the resurrection parade—he is supreme in the end. From beginning to end he’s there, towering far above everything, everyone. So spacious is he, so roomy, that everything of God finds its proper place in him without crowding. Not only that, but all the broken and dislocated pieces of the universe—people and things, animals and atoms—get properly fixed and fit together in vibrant harmonies, all because of his death, his blood that poured down from the cross. You yourselves are a case study of what he does. (Colossians 1:18-21)
Or, as The Voice likes to say, the Liberating King “bled peace into the world… as God’s means of reconciling the whole creation to Himself (Colossians 1:20).”
“Why do you look for the living among the dead?” ask the Easter messengers. And why would we? Bright Monday says that there is no reason to keep going back to the tombs of Friday as if the lifeless body of a crucified idea man holds anything that can redefine the Monday morning alarm clock. Why sit around waiting for the buzzing, neon NO to flash on the graveyard’s vacancy sign when the Living Christ has room for everything, and everything is charged with resurrection?
May we see with revived eyes this, and every, bright Monday.