What happens at Easter

Sorrows passing number,

Sweat and care and cumber…

- Gerard Manley Hopkins,

“O Deus Ego Amo Te”

The time leading up to Easter is known as Lent. Traditionally, this is a penitential season in which Christians practice fasting, or giving up something valuable (like meat, alcohol, and treat foods) to prepare mind, heart, and body for Holy Week. It also symbolizes a willingness to travel with Christ as he faces toward Jerusalem and his death. 

There is a religious sense of time in which everything is now, and in which the events of a holy or founding narrative are remembered and enacted as now, in special feast days and seasons throughout the year. Heaven comes close to earth. Or, in more cumbersome, less poetic language, when timeless, mythological, and chronological time, ordinarily enfolded and hidden together, are strikingly spotlighted and meaningfully arranged. (All these senses of time might be present and in our awareness, and yet we still may feel untouched in our depth. We may not have reached a kairos moment yet - ‘timely time’ - a right or critical moment for change). 

The Holy City, Jerusalem, is where Christ will make his final act of earthly self-giving, and offer up his life and death (however Christians understand this theologically) as a sacrifice for the sake of the world.

From day one, the current Pope has been asking people to pray for him. I’ve been touched by his willingness to be vulnerable, and to reverse our usual expectations of Popes as powerful men who bless others. Similarly, Christ needs our help during Lent. In the biblical narrative, he asks others to be there, keep watch, remember what he teaches, and do practical things to support him on the way. The women at least stay with him to the end. His leading disciples fall asleep while Christ sweats blood. They do better on practical things: the pre-arranged supper venue and colt are all found.  

For many of us, sacrifice is deeply problematic. Too often, already marginalized groups (such as women, sexual and ethnic minorities, and those with fewer resources) are asked to sacrifice much more than others. Rainbow Christians, for example, are often asked by the church to forego life-long, intimate relationship, full access to sacramental life (marriage, ordination), and their full ministry potential and gifts.  Women routinely sacrifice their time, bodies, and wealth in a way unequal to men. 

Sometimes, religious talk of sacrifice – as in sacrifice of self – feels misguided and distorted. Other times, it may still be relevant and necessary – such as giving money and support to those in dire need.

Both my parents and maternal grandparents were missionaries. They enjoyed their work and, in many ways, led privileged, adventurous lives. They served their people with great love and commitment. Nevertheless, I still feel very mixed – sometimes angry and sad – about how much they personally endured and gave up.

Becoming a parent has provoked me to think about sacrifice again. Parents sacrifice so much! Sometimes too much.  Yet much of this is healthy, or at least essential and very needed. Kids don’t grow and thrive without costly parental self-giving. Sacrifice, then, is at the heart of life – for humans, birds, trees etc.  Parenthood works better for my kids, my wife, and me, when I’m able to understand and accept this (a difficult, ongoing project).

So far, I’ve been referring to personal sacrifice – sacrifice of self, self-giving. In extreme cases, self-giving to the point of death. But there’s also sacrifice where we take another’s life – such as slaughtering an animal or even a human being – and offer it as a gift to a god or to God (though perhaps not always, such as food and war), as well as sacrifice as surrendering a valuable possession.  

Christ’s mystical sacrifice is of his self and life. Christianity claims this sacrifice is so significant that it changes the entire cosmos. What, who, and how?

That’s the mystery – the sacrificial mystery – for us to participate in during Easter and Lent. Of course, we can find many answers in a book (with the explanations and conclusions all neatly described). But what would be the point of journeying together, in ritual, text, and prayer? To confirm what we already know? How would that truly save or transform us?

Image at top of page: The Entry of Christ into Jerusalem, Milan Hours of the duc de Berry.