At Least They're Committed

Happy Easter!

Today, will be busy and bright, and I’ll spend moments of stillness and reflection looking through the messages and prayers that offer new science, theology and insights on Christ’s resurrection.

And I’ll feel blue, as I always do. It occurs to me that even though this is a day of celebration, it has also always, always invoked fear and sadness in me.

I’m not entirely sure why this happens, maybe it’s because of how horrid humans are and how little we learned from Jesus and the rampant evil being perpetuated in His name.

Maybe it’s because of what he suffered and died for, and I worry he’s still in pain, with those holes in his hands (or wrists, as some say) and feet and the wound from the sword in his side.

Or maybe, and I believe this might be a goodly part of it, upon his joyous and miraculous return that he was once again destined to leave 40 days later — at least physically.

God’s instruction seven weeks and one day later — with the flames appearing over the heads of the apostles at Pentecost and the Holy Spirit descending on them — empowered the apostles to get off their butts, get beyond their fear and enlighten and save others through Christ’s teachings.

They did their part, just as Jesus did his. Yet, here we are. They saved our souls, only for us to be lost again.

Damned humans aside, Jesus’ resurrection and ascension makes me think of something that happened soon after my dad died. My niece’s oldest daughter woke up to find her great grandpa sitting at the foot of her bed. He spoke with her and told her that he was doing well and impressed upon her a message to tell us that he loved us very much.

Upon hearing this, we all wept, of course. What a beautiful moment for all of us, and a meaningful memory for that little girl. And as happy as that made me, I pondered, would I want to see dad one more time? Would I want to awaken and to find him sitting on my bed and chat with me for even 5 minutes?

No. The thought frightens me. I lost him once and bringing him back only to lose him again would crush me.

I guess that’s why I feel melancholy for the apostles and Mother Mary (especially her!) and Mary Magdalen even though I know I should be joyful and inspired.

It’s a beautiful sunny day in Denver and we will be out and about, appreciating this world as nature breathes new life upon the Earth — who knows, maybe for the last time. In the here-and-now, my family and I will thank God for this beautiful day and this magnificent planet and celebrate the life and teachings of Christ.

And as I often tell Jesus in prayer, I will still hold out hope for humanity and will live my life true to his teachings. Let us all pray.