After the night, the dawn. After the winter, the spring.

This is a Christian faith statement. If you are likely to be offended, don’t read on. If you do, I hope you can find parallels in your own spiritual beliefs.

I was much struck today by part of the reading for the Easter Mass. Mary Magdalen comes running to the apostles to say that the body of Jesus has been taken. She went, as women have done throughout time and space, to perform the last loving service a human being can give their dear departed–to prepare the corpse as her culture demanded–and the body wasn’t there. She assumed the worst, as you would. Someone had stolen the body. To the terrible events of the trial and crucifixion had been added an insult even to the poor broken remains.

But, of course, the next scene in the story lets her know she had the wrong answer. He was no longer in the tomb, true. But the evidence had led her to the wrong conclusion. The worst had not happened, but the best. The end was not the end, but a new beginning. Even as she went out into the garden to weep, he was already risen.

That particular scenario may be unique in human history, but the mind set hasn’t changed. We look around at the signs of growing disfunction, of despair, of the breakdown of society. It is all over, we say. All we can do is sit in the garden and weep.

But we in the Catholic tradition call ourself an Easter people for a reason. Let us remember on this solemn and glorious feast day that, no matter how bad things look, Christ may already be walking in the garden. The night is already at an end. Spring has begun.

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