Everything’s finally quiet. Jesus has risen, we all sang “Alleluia!” and the world has gone back to work. A beautiful Lenten season filled with meditation, scripture, prayers and penance culminated in a week filled with emotional highs and lows; intrigue, agony, death and resurrection against a backdrop of a spectacular spring sky and cherry blossoms. But even with all of that I get the feeling that this morning Easter was put away with the bunny decorations and baskets. It lasts less than the time it takes to bite a chocolate bunny’s ears off.
I confess to having a similar feeling. Church divas get a bit overwrought from all the services and rehearsals, and it’s hard to keep that fresh Alleluia feeling when you’re exhausted and can’t deal with one more trumpet player or program. But there is a sweet perfume in the air coming from some beautiful white Easter lillies on my breakfast bar. Their smell brings me back to Easter morning, their trumpet shaped petals a reminder of what I’ve worked so hard to be part of, explaining once again that Easter lasts for fifty days. Today has the same excitement and joy as yesterday. Tomorrow looks just like it, and so on for the next several days. We hear about Jesus appearing to Mary and the apostles in his glorified body. Can you imagine those poor guys? It must have scared the heck out of them. We wait for Thomas to show up and get angry because he thinks the apostles are telling him a wild story when they should know better, and then turn around and make one of the most profound professions of faith ever uttered, “My Lord, and my God.” We walk the road to Emmaus and imagine how it would feel to have someone you’ve just watched die sit down and have dinner with you. We follow the adventures of the apostles as they struggle to get the Church started in spite of being uneducated, rough fishermen. We wonder about how Paul, the early Church’s worst nightmare, was knocked to the ground, soundly dressed down by the voice of Jesus, and turned around his life to become one of the greatest apostles. And even though the last bits of the Easter Ham, the bone and some scraps, became some bodacious pot pie soup today, my Easter adventure continues.