Easter Sunday

John 20: 1 – 2

Early in the morning on the first day of the week, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and saw that the stone was moved away from the entrance. She ran at once to Simon Peter and the other disciple, the one Jesus loved, breathlessly panting, “They took the Master from the tomb. We don’t know where they’ve put him”.

At a family dinner one year, we all went around the table and said what we had given up for Lent. It was the typical litany of sacrifices that people usually make. My nephew, Jack, who was 4 years old at the time, was also there, pushing the food he didn’t want to eat around his plate, not caring at all about our adult conversation.

Jack was growing like a weed, changing every day it seemed. His parents were doing their best to keep up with his constant need for new clothes that fit, with mixed results – his pants and sleeves were often on the short side. He was getting bigger, but also smarter, funnier – his personality taking shape into a precocious, strong-willed, warm-hearted boy. The toddler was turning into a kid.

At the dinner, someone asked him what he gave up for Lent, and he grumpily replied, “Tight shoes.” We all laughed, but there’s so often wisdom out of the mouths of babes. He knew that getting stuck in what was no longer needed was painful. To him, sacrifice meant shedding the old so he could grow into the person he was to be. Happy Easter!