Homily for Easter Sunday - April 4, 2010

Have you ever wondered why so many people attend Mass on Easter Sunday? This occurs, not only in Catholic churches, but in Protestant churches as well. On this day, all over the world, there are more people in church than any other day of the year. Why is that?
I suppose that there are a number of reasons, not the least of which it is an old famous tradition. Some people attend Mass on Easter who never attend any other time. If you happen to be one of these people, I sincerely welcome you. My purpose today is not to criticize you or make you feel uncomfortable. I am glad that you are here, and we welcome you. But I suspect that your presence here today is prompted by something more than mere tradition. I am convinced that this day and its message have a deeper hold on all of us than we probably realize. We are here today, some out of habit (we are here every Sunday), some out of tradition (our family always goes to Mass on Easter and has a brunch afterwards), some out of obligation (this is what I am supposed to do; I am expected to be here), some out of social attraction (this is a good place to meet people, possibly make friends, and to catch up on the latest spring fashions).
But underneath all of that, my guess is that we are here today because deep on the inside we believe the Easter message. We cannot prove it. No one has ever proven it to us. There are days when we doubt it. Most days we don’t even think about it. But once in a while we come face to face with a serious illness or the fact of death. This starts us thinking about the meaning of life. And somehow, we cannot escape the conviction that there is more to life than this.
I want us today to think for a few moments about this seemingly “inescapable hope” of life after death. What is it and where does it come from? I suggest, first of all, that it is rooted in the way that God made us. Every one of us is a two-part creature. There is one part of us that is physical, visible, and tangible. There is another part of us that is spiritual, invisible, and intangible. The physical part of us belongs entirely to this earth. It is set within a limited context of time and space. It is made of the same materials of which rocks, soil and trees are made. We call this part of us our body. When we are born, it is small and weak. For a few years it grows bigger and stronger until it reaches its maximum capacity of years. Then it begins to slowly decline, getting weaker and weaker as the years go by. And after a while it dies.
This is the natural cycle of physical life. It happens to everything – plants, animals, and people. We cannot honestly protest this process. Life on this planet would very quickly become impossible without it. From the moment a person is born, we know that his/her physical life is limited. So we accept this as it is part of our nature.
But the other part of us is quite different. Our spiritual nature has no predetermined boundaries. There are no natural limits to the development of character or the accumulation of knowledge. From the moment we are born, this spiritual part of us begins traveling a road to which there is no visible end. The more we learn, the more we increase our capacity to learn. The more we love, the more we enlarge our ability to love.
I read a few years ago about a woman in New York who had been engaged in an unusual ministry. She had cared for babies who were addicted to drugs because they were born to mothers who were addicts. The little ones go through the agonies of withdrawal just as grown people do. So they desperately need someone to care for them. This woman started doing just that at the age of 65. Her name was Clara Hale. Obviously, her body couldn’t last forever. It wore out. But her ability to love got bigger and stronger until she passed away at 88 years old.
“Our bodies” can live out their entire potential within the framework of time, but not our souls. Every one of us has unlimited spiritual possibilities that would require an eternity to explore. The way that we are made, our two-fold nature, keeps us believing in the message of Easter
Another factor in this faith of ours, one that is closely related to the first, is our love for certain people. It is conceivable to me that a person could become somewhat indifferent to the question of life after death as it pertains to himself/herself. There are days when I can almost feel that way about myself. But other people are another matter. I could never feel that way about a small child who dies without ever having a chance to really live. I could never feel that way about some people whom I have loved more dearly than life itself. I think of my dear father. (He was learning Spanish at 80.)
Loving people adds a dimension of urgency to the question of what happens to us when we die. This is one of the things that keeps us believing the Easter message, and brings us back here in record numbers year after year.
I will mention just one other factor, and this is our personal experiences of God. And I am quite certain that someone here is thinking that this part of the sermon leaves you out. You could relate to the other two thoughts – our spiritual possibilities and our love for people. But when we speak of personal experience of God, you feel left out because you are not sure you have ever had any. Well, I am quite sure that you have. You may have called it something else or explained it in some other way. But every person here has had personal experiences with God.
There is a short story about a boy and his grandfather who were high on a hill flying a kite. They watched the kite soar higher and higher till finally a low cloud hid it from sight. “Bobby,” said Grandpa, “maybe some robber up in that cloud stole your kite.” But the boy shook his head. “No, Grandpa!” The grandfather spoke up again, ‘Bobby, maybe some robber up in that cloud stole your kite.” But the boy’s answer was the same, “No, Grandpa!” Finally, Grandpa asked, “Bobby, what makes you so sure you’ve still got a kite up there?” The boy replied, “Because I can feel something you can’t feel. I can feel the kite tugging at my string.”
All of our lives, every one of us has felt little tugs at our hearts, soft whispers inside that somehow let us know that everything will be alright, and that we are not alone. Most of the time those inner tugs have been so quiet and so hard to name or put a finger on, that we’ve hardly noticed them or just brushed them aside, or didn’t dare trust them. But always they’ve been there for each one of us.
Jesus, when he came, told us we can trust our spiritual side because it’s God who’s whispering to us – telling us how important we are, and that we are no mere throwaways. (PAUSE) We want to believe that, but it is very hard because of the routineness of life. And the pains and sadnesses of life so often seem to tell us just the opposite. And sometimes we’re afraid of being fooled by our own wishful thinking or by petty words, because talk is so cheap. We are afraid to trust our spiritual side because it might ask us to change the direction of our lives, to truly become happy, to assess our values and what is really important.
But I want you to know, that Jesus never settled for just talking. In the end he gave us a very important sign that we can count on: He gave us the sign of His own dying and rising from the dead as a guarantee that His words to us and the tugs we’ve felt in our hearts can be trusted.
That’s the message of Easter. That’s the meaning of Jesus’ resurrection. It has a hold on our hearts that we can never be able to completely escape.
Each time we love again after having our love rejected, we share in the power of Jesus’ resurrection. Each time we trust again after having our trust betrayed, we share in Jesus’ resurrection Each time we pick up the pieces, wipe our tears, face the sun, and start again, we share in the power of Jesus’ resurrection. (PAUSE) The message of Easter is strong because Christ has conquered all. That is the real reason that people attend Mass in record numbers on Easter Sundays, and each and every Sunday. Our hearts and faith need to be touched by God. Jesus loves us and wants to enter into a relationship with Him. It is now time to quiet down enough to hear the tug of God in our hearts. And if we do that regularly, then we will be very happy people sharing the good news that we don’t have to wait until death to share in the resurrection.
Happy Easter.