Easter Vigil - Plan B Worked!

We had our first technical glitches at the Easter Vigil tonight--we couldn't access our YouTube feed and scrambled for 40 minutes to  switch to Facebook Live. 

When we finally were able to start, I began by quoting the words of the Queen's historical Easter address broadcast earlier in the day, which was not only a lovely reminder that the monarch is a devout Christian but that she is certainly familiar with the Easter Vigil:

“As darkness falls on the Saturday before Easter Day, many Christians would normally light candles together.

“In church, one light would pass to another, spreading slowly and then more rapidly as more candles are lit,” Queen Elizabeth said in her first-ever Easter message.

“It’s a way of showing how the good news of Christ’s resurrection has been passed on from the first Easter by every generation until now.

“This year, Easter will be different for many of us, but by keeping apart we keep others safe.

“But Easter isn’t cancelled; indeed, we need Easter as much as ever,” the Queen proclaimed.

“The discovery of the risen Christ on the first Easter Day gave his followers new hope and fresh purpose, and we can all take heart from this. We know that coronavirus will not overcome us.

“As dark as death can be – particularly for those suffering with grief – light and life are greater,” Her Majesty said, concluding with words that all of us pray tonight: “May the living flame of the Easter hope be a steady guide as we face the future.”

Father Jeff's homily was beautifully poetic, and amply rewarded the patience of those who stayed with us as we got "Plan B" on the air. For those who weren't with us, here is his full text:

After dinner last night, I went for a walk around the neighbourhood, as I try to do most evenings.  The weather had been perfect all day, much like today.  Spring was blooming in abundance all around me.  It took my breath away to behold beyond the shimmering peace of English Bay the pristinely clear mountain peaks of Vancouver Island silhouetted against the pink sunset sky. 

It was sheer beauty.  I saw three other people during my walk, at a distance.  I didn’t see any traffic, but I heard a car now and then, in the distance too.  Beautiful it was, but it was also eerie.  This peaceful silence, I wondered, is this what the sound of death is like?

On my way back home, I passed a house from which were coming the sounds of happiness to fill the silence: the sounds of many human voices chatting and laughing (I trust they all live under the same roof!), the sound of music, the sound of silverware touching china, the sound of glasses cheerfully clinking.  It was a happy party.  Listening from the silence of my sidewalk, I so wanted to be there with them!

In this time of the pandemic, when the to and fro of our daily life, when the hail and well met of our connections and associations, when the noise and music of familiar sounds and voices are all hushed and stopped, we may sometimes feel surrounded as if by the ever enclosing walls of a dark and silent tomb.  We may sometimes feel like this is a death of sorts.

Stripped away of all its worldliness, the bare world – pandemic or not – is a place that inexorably brings us to death and the tomb.  We already know that.  We have always known it.  But, especially in this time of infection and disease, it is a stark truth that stares us squarely in the face.

This virus is compelling us to assume our social responsibility and Christian duty toward each other.  It demands that we each play our part, not only for its defeat but also out of our basic commitments to each other.  But are you like me, are you also hoping for a saviour to rescue us from this mess?

During my walk last night, my swirling thoughts came to focus on the notion that our current experience of the pandemic is in its way emblematic of general human experience in all times.  We who build towers that reach into the sky are also the ones brought low by this virus.  Humanity that soars to such glorious heights is, at the end of life, always leveled by death and the tomb.

The Word of God enlightens us and directs us to take collective responsibility for the blunt reality of death in which we all share.  Because we let our human weakness, even against our better judgement, fall prey to temptation and sin, we are bound, each of us, to suffer the consequences and to walk the way to dusty death.  We desperately need a saviour to rescue us from this mess, to rescue us from sin and death.

We do have a Saviour.  The world has a Saviour.  Jesus Christ, the Son of God, a human being like us.  He crushes and destroys the power of sin and death tonight.  Alleluia!  He rises from the tomb tonight.  Alleluia!  And because he has done it, because a human being has done it, we too shall do it, we also shall rise from the dead on the last day.

I’ll go for a walk after dinner again tomorrow.  And there in the quiet neighbourhoods amidst the gently nodding Spring blossoms, if I do, and even if I don’t, hear the sounds of laughter and revelry from a family party filling the silence of the streets, I shall nevertheless give thanks and rejoice with the Psalmist that our Saviour has thrown the doors wide open for all of us to join in that celestial party at the heavenly banquet, there where we all so long to be.  

Because of this holy and solemn night, because of the Resurrection of Jesus Christ, we shall be the rejoicing crowd entering into the house of God, amid cries of gladness and thanksgiving, the throng wild with joy!

May God who has blessed us with this beautiful promise of eternal life, continue to bless us now and always!

(Rev. Jefferson Thompson, CSB)