For numerous individuals, this Lent seems to have lasted beyond 40 days. In a sense, the Church and the globe have undergone an extended Lent since the onset of the COVID-19 pandemic over two years ago. Additional challenges have arisen: from escalating political strife in our country, to rising costs affecting everything from food to fuel, to an unforeseen conflict initiated by Russia against its neighbor Ukraine. However, in spite of these challenges surrounding us and across the globe, we should acknowledge and rejoice in the happiness that the Easter season brings. Christ has risen! There is considerable optimism to be found in this celebration year after year.

To celebrate this sacred day and the most cheerful season, we present six reflections from Catholics regarding the significance of Easter for them this year. We hope it provides you with hope and comfort, and that you, as well, can enjoy the plentiful blessings of Christ’s resurrection.

‘God is not finished yet’

By Louis Damani Jones

“Christ has risen; indeed he has risen!”Christos anesti; alithos anesti!”

Across the globe, in a variety of languages and rich cultural attire, Christians will convey the most profound, essential truth of the Christian existence — Christ is here, Christ is living. Individuals facing severe poverty, family strife, and the harrowing effects of war will testify with their voices to the reality that God has acknowledged our pain. Jesus aligned himself with our humanity, stepping into our human experience, with the singular aim of transforming despair into the radiant and victorious light of God’s presence.

For numerous individuals, the recent years have appeared as an unending period of Lent lacking the comfort of the Easter time. We have all experienced the bitter gales of what could quite rightly be characterized as the cultural wastelands of illness, political unrest, financial hardship, and worldwide strife. In such times, the delight of the Resurrection may appear remote from our anguish. Nevertheless, Christ himself emerged triumphantly amid disorder and from the abyss of suffering. The conquest of death occurred at the exact moment when death seemed to obscure the visage of God.

For me, this reminder of the importance of the Resurrection during the Easter time is a vital acknowledgment that Jesus Christ’s transcendent life flows into and through the everyday experiences of us, his followers, to whom he has bonded himself eternally. When we baptize our children, we ought to recognize Jesus’ resurrection as he or she emerges from the font. When we marry, we should perceive Jesus’ resurrection in the gaze of our partner. When we falter and come back to the confessional, possibly years later than we ought to have, in our hearts we should witness Jesus’ resurrection anew. We must also endeavor to recognize the Resurrection in the passing of our dear ones, in the chaos of world events, and in the clutches of doubt. In his homily for Easter Sunday on March 26, 1967, St. Josemaría Escrivá referred to God’s active calling, informing us that God is reaching out to us “through the suffering and joy of the individuals we live with … the elements that shape our family life … through the significant issues, conflicts, and trials of each historical period.”

These are extraordinary endeavors that demand from us the faith, hope, and love that can solely be bestowed upon us by God. Fortunately, this is exactly the Good News. We have received the call to “become partakers of the divine nature” (NASB 2 Pt 1:4), encounter “the likeness of His resurrection” (Rom 6:5), and have “the life of Jesus … revealed in our body” (2 Cor 4:10).

The resurrection of Jesus directly pertains to what he has promised as our own fate. Certainly, we should aim to witness Christ’s resurrection throughout our lives, but this must accompany the understanding that the grace we might encounter in this life is merely a glimpse of the restoration, renewal, and wholeness that God has in store for us when our journey through this flawed existence comes to an end.

During this Easter time, I express my gratitude to God for the chance to recall that He is not done yet.

Louis Damani Jones is a fellow at the Gephardt Institute for Civic and Community Engagement at Washington University.

Clinging to hope

By Stephanie Weinert

Fear, grief, anticipation, and recovery. Holy Week encompasses all of these emotions for the Christian.

I am not the same individual I was a year ago during Holy Week and Easter. In His mercy, God presented me with a cross and a crown in 2021 that has permanently altered the manner in which I will journey through the Gospel narrative and this most magnificent liturgical season.

In April 2021, my young son, Beckett, who came into the world with an unexpected diagnosis of Down syndrome, a cardiac condition, and respiratory illness, started to experience a decline in his health that ultimately resulted in his passing on May 11th. Despite Beckett’s brave and determined battle to survive, and my husband and I putting in just as much effort by his side, my beloved little boy went to be with Jesus at the age of 18 months and 16 days old.

Amid the profound anguish of Beckett’s torment, demise, and ascension to heaven, the Lord provided me with a clearer understanding of His own suffering, death, and exaltation. I traverse these sacred days with renewed vision and a transformed heart. Shouldering my own cross has afforded me a deeper connection to God’s. It is challenging. But it is equally a blessing.

Holy Thursday: As Jesus went to the Garden of Gethsemane to pray and remain vigilant, I sense his heartbeat in a profound way. It is understandable that his perspiration became like blood during those charged moments of contemplation, submission, and acceptance of his fate. To feel pain, to experience anxiousness, to dread the approaching suffering and grief: this is entirely human, and he permitted himself to face those frightening, overwhelming emotions so that I could resonate with him in my state of panic and fear. My “Garden” was a bedside in PICU Room 11, calming a frightened toddler’s forehead, murmuring words of reassurance, singing lullabies while my heart raced with anxiety and apprehension. The fear and the struggle to move ahead are frequently intertwined experiences. This is why we remain vigilant and pray.

Good Friday: I observe her, gazing at him, positioned nearby, experiencing each lash of the whip, thorn puncture, and nail hammering into flesh. Mary’s involvement in her son’s agony was far from passive. When the Gospel conveys that a sword would also pierce her heart, it is not merely a beautiful theological metaphor. The profound anguish of witnessing her innocent son perish was a crucifixion of the heart that would endlessly imprint her life, even after the Resurrection. Now that I have stood at the base of my own son’s cross, now that I have felt his last breath against my chest and cradled his lifeless form, I approach Good Friday through the perspective of a mother — immensely grateful that in his final, agonizing breaths, he entrusted her to me. I need her.

Holy Saturday: In light of Beckett’s passing, Holy Saturday has gained deep new significance within my heart. This day frequently appears to be the “overlooked” segment of the Triduum. There can be a temptation to leap from the crucifixion to the resurrection and overlook that Holy Saturday is not about joyful anticipation but rather a day of steadfast waiting and enduring hope.

Hope.

The quality of hope is essential. It serves as the link between the cross and the Resurrection. As St. Paul reminds us (cf. Rom 5:5), hope never lets us down, making it the lifeline for a heart hurt by grief too deep for expression, and it readies us for the splendor that arrives with the dawn.

I feel as though I have been trapped in a constant Holy Saturday since last May. My heart is shattered, disoriented, and pained. Yet, concurrently, I am aware that I have encountered the Lord. I recognize that his words are genuine and that he is reliable. I understand that he is at work, even when everything seems nonsensical and I cannot discern the way ahead. I know he is the King of Glory, even when it appears that the adversary has triumphed. It is that Holy Saturday narrative that propels me forward, one faith-filled step after another. I am assured that in the morning, the son rises. I am certain that in the morning, he renews everything. I know that in the morning, the king reigns on his throne, and he will draw his children to himself.

I find joy in the Resurrection as I am aware of the path of grief, suffering, and anticipation. I don’t wish to hasten through the struggles, for they are the moments that enable me to recognize the good and the magnificent.

Easter is approaching. It has arrived. And it is wonderful.

Stephanie Weinert is a Catholic wife, mother, author, speaker and the founder of mother & home, an online community for Catholic mothers.

Lazarus’ first Easter

By Jason R. Shanks

“‘Lazarus, step forth!’ The deceased emerged, bound hand and foot with grave cloths, and his face was covered with a linen. Then Jesus instructed them, ‘Free him and allow him to leave’” (Jn 11:43-44).

Having remained in the tomb for four days, sufficient time for decomposition to start and for an “odor” to emerge, Lazarus was to be brought back to life and receive a renewed existence. The sorrow that came before this miracle would surely have been succeeded by amazement, thankfulness, and, naturally, happiness.

For four days, Lazarus had passed away. He was wrapped and placed in a grave with a stone sealed at the entrance. Then his friend Jesus, following the pleas of his sisters, brought him back to life. What might he have said to Jesus when leaving the tomb? Did his eyes require a moment to adapt? Was he aware of his surroundings or the duration of his death? Did he believe he was in a dream?

Once he was freed from his bindings, I envision the exchange between Jesus and Lazarus to be deeply moving and filled with joy. Lazarus, in his alive state, became a living miracle, and each breath he took served as a testament to the divine power present in Jesus.

Shortly afterward, Jesus would make His way back to Bethany, located near Jerusalem, where Lazarus lived, in preparation for Passover. It is here that Mary, Lazarus’ sister, would apply costly perfume to Jesus’ feet. And why would she not? He had brought her brother back to life. Undoubtedly, Jesus was visiting His friend whom He had recently resurrected and for whom He had wept at his death; and possibly, aware of what lay ahead, He sought one final encounter. I also believe He was drawing attention to Lazarus once more as a precursor to the events of Easter Sunday. The same tears that fell for Lazarus would soon be shed for Jesus, yet they should not despair — recall the moment Lazarus emerged from the tomb.

The miracle of Lazarus served as a foreshadowing of Christ’s own resurrection, as well as the eventual resurrection of all our bodies at the end of time. It significantly influenced numerous individuals. John notes that many arrived at this Passover not just to witness Jesus but also to see Lazarus; evidently, news had circulated, and people were eager to experience a miracle firsthand. Many were led to faith in Jesus due to Lazarus, prompting the chief priests to conspire not only against Jesus but also to eliminate Lazarus (cf. Jn 12:9-11).

The following day after an evening spent in Bethany, Jesus would make his entrance into Jerusalem, marking the commencement of his suffering and demise. The Bible offers no details on what occurs next with Lazarus. He is absent from references on Good Friday, nor is he noted in the Upper Room alongside the apostles. We do not find accounts of a risen Christ showing himself to him, nor is he depicted during Jesus’ ascension. The Scriptures provide no further information regarding Lazarus’ location.

What, then, would happen to Lazarus? Perhaps, aware of the conspiracy against him, and witnessing Jesus being taken away in the shadows of night with the disciples absent, he might choose to conceal himself. He might be worried about his sisters and wish to shield his family. He probably didn’t want to take his newfound life for granted. And upon Jesus’ demise, just as Jesus mourned for him, he too would have cried, reflecting on their last encounter. Yet his sorrow would have been distinct from others, for he would recall the act of grace Jesus performed for him; how could he forget? He would have foreseen what was ahead; he had experienced it — albeit not in the glorified manner of Christ. Having undergone the miracle of his own revival, undoubtedly he would have been praying for the same for his friend, his mentor, and Lord, Jesus.

Then, Easter morning arrived, and he would have learned the news. Jesus was absent; he was not in the tomb. He resurrected, and he didn’t require being unwrapped; his burial cloth remained intact and laid inside. This would have evoked recollections of Lazarus’ departure from the tomb, his burial, and the memory of being unwrapped, only to see his friend as his vision adjusted. Lazarus would not need to check the tomb where Jesus rested to confirm the account; he would have recognized it as truth. And he would have understood where Jesus had been from Good Friday to Easter Sunday: to Hades, where he too had spent four days — a beacon of hope for those present.

In what ways does Lazarus reflect our own experience of the passion, death, and resurrection of Our Lord? It appears that we may share more similarities with Lazarus in our understanding of life after the Resurrection than the experiences of the apostles on that first Easter morning. Must we die, come close to death, and then be resurrected in order to connect, to comprehend, and to value the salvation that has been granted to us and the triumph that has been realized? Each time we partake in the Eucharist, we engage in the remembrance of Christ’s passion, death, and resurrection. The miracle of the Eucharist brings to life the events from Good Friday through Easter Sunday for us. And similar to Lazarus, we too can be freed, rejuvenated, liberated, and find joy in the one who has made it all possible.

Jason Shanks is president of the OSV Institute for Catholic Innovation.

A new approach to death

By Valerie Delgado

Easter has not held the same significance for me in the past as it does today. In my younger years, I enjoyed how the world acknowledged Easter. I delighted in the plush bunnies, cracking open Easter eggs, sampling various flavors of jelly beans, and unwrapping all the chocolates shaped like bunnies. To me, Easter was merely an adorable holiday. However, as I matured and deepened my connection with the Lord, my perspective transformed. Easter turned into a time of immense joy and appreciation to God the Father for sending His only Son to redeem me from my sins and instill in me the hope of heaven.

For the last few years, Easter has become one of my most cherished times to honor within the Church. Why is that? Because Jesus is alive! He accomplished so much more than merely dying for us; he took the extraordinary step that only Jesus could undertake and rose from the dead for us. The Resurrection means that Satan has no authority over Jesus, or over us. The devil fought fiercely to dismantle the kingdom of heaven and likely believed he had succeeded on Good Friday. However, rather than the cross and the tomb representing Jesus’ defeat, they transformed into powerful symbols of his victory. On that day, sin and death were defeated once and for all. And that is deserving of all the celebration in the world.

Now, my Easter seasons are filled with far more joy than merely jelly beans and chocolates shaped like bunnies. I commence my Easter preparations on Holy Saturday. I clean my home, I organize a delightful Easter breakfast or lunch, I dye a few eggs red to represent the blood of Christ shed on Good Friday (as the hard shell stands for his sealed tomb). I conclude my evening by participating in a lovely Easter Vigil. As the paschal candle makes its way into the dim church, I contemplate how Jesus consistently pierces through the darkness. Then, I have the honor of witnessing new Christians being welcomed into the Church. If you have yet to experience an Easter Vigil, I highly recommend attending one. It is genuinely one of the most beautiful Masses I have ever experienced.

This year, I am particularly thrilled for Easter. The last two years have seemed like an excessively lengthy Lenten period. This Easter, I am commemorating the season that announces the triumph of life. What if we approached this Easter season as if death was no longer a factor? I don’t mean to suggest living ignorantly, as if to overlook the truth of death. I mean, what if we perceived death on earth not as a conclusion to life but as a fresh start, the commencement of an eternity in God’s presence? I am deciding this Easter season to present all of my struggles to the Father and witnessing my pain be transformed.

Love conquers; death is vanquished — let us embrace that reality! As St. John Chrysostom proclaimed: “O Death, where is your bite? O Hell, where is your triumph? Christ has risen, and you are defeated. Christ has risen, and the demons have been cast down. Christ has risen, and the angels celebrate. Christ has risen, and life prevails. Christ has risen, and no one deceased remains in the tomb.”

Valerie Delgado is a Catholic artist. You can find and purchase her work at paxbeloved.com.

‘Love is always more’

By Bishop David Bonnar

During my childhood, the local newspaper featured a single-panel cartoon called “Love Is.” Every day, a unique illustration aimed to capture the depth of love. What I learned from it was that love is so filled with significance that it cannot be fully expressed through words or an image. Love consistently exceeds anything we could ever understand or grasp.

A similar point can be argued regarding Easter and the magnificent celebration of the Resurrection. Easter represents a mystery that transcends our comprehension. Indeed, for the believer, Easter inspires a profound sense of awe and wonder that frequently eludes expression. The Easter Gospel from John 20:1-9 conveys the speechless reverence at the vacant tomb when referring to the other disciple who “saw and believed.” There are simply no words. It is merely an expanding faith that yearns for insight. “For they did not comprehend the Scriptures that he had to rise from the dead.”

The observance of Easter is so profound that it cannot be limited to just a single day. Easter is commemorated as an octave extending over a week and continues to be celebrated as a season. It represents the ultimate celebration of triumph and the most astonishing surprise gathering. Each Sunday throughout the year embodies the essence of Easter, offering hope and tranquility for the world and reminding us of this wondrous surprise. The Sunday commemoration, which calls to mind Christ’s triumph over death, aids us in enduring the hardships and losses we encounter during the week. Long ago, I don’t remember where, I recall coming across the phrase: “Sunday is to the week what Easter is to the year.”

Easter is “revealing.” The two disciples traveling to Emmaus meet an unfamiliar person (cf. Lk 24:13-35). They welcome him into their home to share a meal. In the act of breaking the bread, Luke notes that their “eyes were opened and they recognized him.” Easter can be equally revealing for us. After accompanying Jesus through his suffering and death, we realize that we are never truly alone. Jesus journeys with us on our many paths of failure and disenchantment. The vacant tomb unveils the eyes of our hearts to a rejuvenated hope. As a young child, I recall my mother taking my siblings and me shopping before Easter so that we had something “new” to wear on the occasion. However, this newness is best exemplified in the Easter fire, water, and those initiated into the Faith. We come to embrace this newness in our hearts when, alongside the entire faith community, we reaffirm our baptismal vows and reject sin.

The shadows of the pandemic we’ve endured over the past two years, along with the unprovoked aggression towards Ukraine resulting in immense suffering and loss, render our Easter celebration even more significant. May the risen Lord illuminate our hearts so that we can witness the hope and peace of Easter. May Jesus enable us to recognize and honor the profound surprise of his resurrection, which transcends our ability to articulate or comprehend. Happy Easter!

Bishop David J. Bonnar is bishop of the Diocese of Youngstown, Ohio, and editor of The Priest magazine, published by OSV.

‘God will fulfill the desires of our heart’

By Katie Prejean McGrady

I have two little girls, aged 4 and 1, who kindly comply with my almost continual requests to outfit them in coordinated ensembles. Sleepwear. Playwear. Dresses for Sunday service. They seldom voice any discontent. They are, in fact, frequently thrilled by my inclination to dress them in matching monogrammed attire.

I acquired the coordinating Easter dresses they will don this year on a spontaneous impulse during the summer of 2016, when a friend launched a small boutique and I discovered them on her clearance shelf, priced at just $10 each. A gentle blue floral design featuring Peter Pan collars. Sizes 6 and 18 months.

I hadn’t even conceived my eldest when I purchased those dresses. We were newlyweds, certainly open to life, yet no children had arrived as of that moment. Regardless, I bought the dresses. They cost just $20, two coordinating dresses for two young girls who hadn’t come into being yet. I didn’t even know if they would ever come into existence.

Yet I wished they eventually would — wished the dresses would eventually be donned, wished I wasn’t squandering that $20. Wished that perhaps those two dresses, in those two sizes, would one day be perfect for two little girls at exactly the right moment.

Hope is an intriguing phenomenon. It arises when we are often least prepared. Yet, when it arrives, filling our hearts and brightening our thoughts, we reach for and hold onto it, as it brings forth a happiness like no other. Hope grounded in a commitment, resonating with a melody of positivity, stands unparalleled by anything else. It transforms lives, and can even impart a sense of vitality.

Mary Magdalene approached a tomb on Easter morning with hope, convinced, even amidst her sorrow, that what Jesus proclaimed might truly be accurate. Peter and John hurried to the tomb, brimming with optimism, believing that what Mary had shared was indeed correct. As we embrace Easter, perhaps in garments purchased some time ago, we are imbued with hope that God will realize the longings of our hearts, bring to fruition what aligns with his perfect will, and supply us with all that he has promised over time.

I’m approaching this Easter filled with a significant amount of hope. In fact, it’s a considerable amount. It’s almost to the extent of concern that my hope may be excessive, my anticipations too elevated, and I’ll end up facing mere disappointment.

However, hope, particularly during a period when the assurance of Resurrection is realized and acknowledged, can never be excessive. Hope, grounded in God’s benevolence, always brings joy and contentment to the heart that pulses with affection for a kind and generous God. Hope, in a realm so fragmented and chaotic and afflicted by animosity, may indeed mend, console, and proclaim the melody of God’s goodness to those who require it the most.

I’m yearning for an Easter full of hope and life, desiring to experience only the joy of Mary Magdalene encountering Jesus in the garden, along with Peter and John racing to, and discovering, an empty tomb.

Katie Prejean McGrady is an award-winning author, international speaker and host of The Katie McGrady Show on The Catholic Channel on Sirius XM.