Further Reflection: Easter and Resurrection

Seventh and Final in a Series

What Does Easter Mean to Me at This Point in My Life?

Excellent question. The question, of course, presupposes that our understanding of Easter will change depending on context: on what’s going on within and without each of us at any given point. Later in his life, Rubem Alves put it this way: “Being a poet, I don’t know how to talk scientifically about Christianity. I can only talk about it as it is reflected in the mirror of my body, through time.” Having written quite a bit of theology, Alves looks back and criticizes theologians for working too hard “to transform beauty into speech.” At that point, Alves wrote: “I am a Christian, because I love the beauty that lives in this tradition [he came to this conclusion while listening to a Good Friday radio broadcast of a mass by Bach]. What about the ideas? They are the screech of static, in the background.” Not surprisingly, the late Rubem Alves concludes: “Outside Beauty there is no salvation.” 

Now, personally, I still have an appreciation for words, especially at a time when political and economic systems threaten to force us to conform to the logic of the free market: you and I are consumers, debtors, and nothing else. Words matter because they remind us who we are, who we are called to be. But I don’t think words are enough. This is why beauty matters. Beauty reveals Divine grace and reminds us that God’s love escapes the carelessness of totalitarian attitudes and regimes.

So, what does Easter mean to me at this point in my life? It means paying attention and savoring the daily instances of beauty, perhaps even redemption. Here are three brief examples:

1. My father loved Luciano Pavarotti, so I sometimes play his music and watch his videos. “Nessun Dorma” was my father’s favorite. At this point, what moves my heart the most is Pavarotti’s interpretation of “Holy Mother,” featuring Eric Clapton and the London Gospel Choir. As you may recall, Clapton’s son, Conor, died tragically after falling from a New York apartment window. I don’t think one ever recovers from such a loss, but beauty—the beauty of music and poetry—helps him, and can help us, get through the day. 

2. Recently, I have been paying more attention to birds, especially to cardinals. Every time I go out for a walk or go out into the backyard, a cardinal seems to stop by. We are in Virginia, and the Northern cardinal is the state bird, so there is nothing extraordinary about seeing a cardinal, except that cardinals were my mother’s favorite bird. So, of course, every time I see a cardinal, it feels like my mother is sending her good wishes. Indeed, cardinals have been regarded as spiritual messengers. The sudden appearance of this little bird helps me make it through the day, reminding me that I am forever connected to a great cloud of witnesses. After all, Easter is the celebration of the fellowship of the saints, past, present, and future. 

3. Finally, as I heard the news of Spirit Airlines’ cessation of operations, I was touched by the emotional words of a pilot, conveying the news to passengers on one of the last planes to depart. He concluded his announcement with these words: “Thank you for your support over the years. And onward and upward, right? God bless you all.” 

The pilot’s words reminded me that while Sigmund Freud focused on going backward and inward, Erik Erikson emphasized the onward and upward of human life. Easter entails the capacity to say, “onward and upward,” even amid our griefs and losses.

So friends, when you find yourself—like brother Thomas—doubting the Resurrection, play your favorite song, go birdwatching, or look for inspiration in the words of a stranger.

God bless you all.

Rubén Arjona