I'd promised another reflection on Easter, or at least, a small bit on why the name "Easter" is not my favorite. In order to make good on that and provide content that's a little less...niche?...this will be a longer post.
"Easter" is a term we in English-speaking countries have appropriated from one of our language's forebears. "Eostre," "Eastre, "Ostern," coming from various Germanic languages and Old English, has an association with dawn, spring, and a goddess in West Germanic religion. Their calendar has a month dedicated to her, and Easter prior to Christianity was a celebration of spring (among other things). Granted, we owe much of this knowledge (outside etymology) to one St. Bede the Venerable's records, without many (if any) other sources.
"Pascha" is the Latin and Greek (and Russian, for that matter) term for this great celebration, coming from "Paskha" in Aramaic ("Pesach" in Hebrew). This comes from the Jewish Passover feast, which in Christianity is seen as both its own tremendous demonstration of God's deliverance and care for the people and a prefiguring of Jesus' own deliverance of people from slavery of sin, condemnation, and final death. It might also be known as "Anastasis" or "Resurrection Day", unsurprisingly owing to this being the celebration of Jesus' resurrection from the dead.
I struggle with our English name for this holiday. Compared to "Easter", the term "Pascha" speaks a bit more directly to the miracle we celebrate and the cornerstone of our whole faith. It also connects us to the narrative of God's love and care that begins in the first words of the Old Testament and continues to the present day, making full use of the richness of our Jewish ancestry and the deposit of faith accumulated in the centuries following the Son's earthly time among us. In my kinder moments, I can see the welcoming of the spring is a wonderful natural educator or stepping stone to talking about the new life one finds in Christ through participation in his Paschal Mystery, hence the adherence to the usage of "Easter". For those of us in the northern hemisphere who actually experience a springtime around Easter, nature proves a good educator; sacramental (small "s," not one of the 7 Sacraments), if you will. Nature is able to point us to an inner reality that truly is cosmic in proportion, provided we have eyes to see it and a heart open. Being literate in the faith is also helpful for connecting the dots. I'm not advocating any hashtag campaigns for resurrecting (pun intended) "Paschal" in the English-speaking Catholic world; I am simply articulating some of the reasons I struggle with "Easter" as the title for this holy day and season.
But that's enough on that.
We just concluded the "Octave of Easter", the 8 day celebration of Easter as if each day were Easter Sunday proper. While out of the Octave, we're still in the season of Easter for another 41 days after today. Yesterday was the celebration of both The Second Sunday of Easter AND Divine Mercy Sunday.
It might seem a tired tune to reflect on forgiveness in particular and mercy more generally, but it's both necessary and, c'mon, expected; this is Mount Mercy University, after all.
Christ modeled mercy and forgiveness: from the cross he beseeched the Father to forgive those who carried out his torturous and humiliating execution. And afterward, he modeled reconciliation to his disciples who had abandoned and denied him: he wished them peace and entrusted the Holy Spirit to them. His pity moved him to nourish multitudes, heal a great many sick people, even raise one or two people from the dead. there's also the whole Paschal Mystery. So Christ gives us himself as the model of how to live, and that model is one of self-emptying, love, compassion, and mercy.
Prayer for those who persecute us, wishing peace to them and interceding on their behalf. Love our enemies. Give not only of our surplus, but from what we need to help others. Care for those who cannot give you recompense. These are not nice things to do when we feel so inclined or at our leisure; these are concrete manifestations of what it means for us to live the Christian life. And I suck at it. I'm far more comfortable in the mindset of the world, doing nice things in the narrow surplus of time, attention, and money I have left over after my own needs and privileges have been met. But this year, this message of Mercy is hitting me hard, and I'm left discerning how to live it out.
I don't imagine I can make radical changes in the sense of surrendering all of my family's possessions or inviting destitute persons into our home regularly, at least not at this moment. Rather, I feel called to be on the lookout for ways to infuse Mercy into my life in the everyday. If I pride myself on witty deprecation of others, perhaps I am called to redirect that impulse and give thanks for what others are doing with no strings of superiority attached. If I find myself nursing resentment toward someone, perhaps it might be better to genuinely pray for them and their well-being, then my own healing...and possibly make amends if the situation demands (after all, "resentment is drinking poison and waiting for the other to die"). Perhaps in the midst of my busy schedule, I make a point to send a card or to call a loved one who is lonely and/or sick. I make a point to interact with and socialize and be kind and approachable with those folks I think of as "uncool", "annoying", "tiresome".
What would happen if we lived our lives continually looking for and engaging with opportunities to give of ourselves and live as Christ modeled for us and bade us live? Surely it would be painful; there's a cross, and sacrifice, and self-emptying involved. But wouldn't we also find new live? Renewal? Joy? Peace? A yoke that is easy and a burden that is light? It might seem arduous or huge, but Christ has sent us the Spirit, as well, and does not leave us stranded. What would happen if we embraced compassion and mercy? What's the worst that would happen if we set aside our selfishness, our social or economic ambitions, our need to say something funny?
Here's another way of saying all this: working out so people say, "Wow, they work out," is pretty vain. It shouldn't be an end goal in itself. We train in order to stay healthy, to be good stewards of the physical body we've been given, to help our mental health, to be more proficient or stronger at certain tasks. Lenten penance is much the same way. We don't work the muscle to show off that we can do it; we miss the whole point of the season if we do that. Instead, what we have done in Lent is to help us to live, no longer us, but Christ in us, according to the Easter mystery we celebrate. Put the muscle to use; know God's Mercy and show God's Mercy.
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