Before I forget&

Happy Easter! 
     As I write this column, I am sitting by a lake in one of the most beautiful little towns on our planet, Queenstown, New Zealand.  The town is surrounded by mountains; the sky is completely blue without a single cloud, it's quiet and peaceful, I have no schedules or appointments; and I'm thinking about Easter and celebrating the mystery of Christ's resurrection with all of you.
     Easter.  I remember last Easter, the baptisms, confirmations and first Eucharist of those joining the Catholic Church.  I remember the scriptures, the music, the environment of the church, and sprinkling all of you (very generously) with the Easter water that recalls our baptism into Christ.  I remember Easters growing up, not so much the church services, but the magnificent meals my mother prepared.  And, I especially remember getting "Easter baskets" as a child.  I believe that we human beings are more influenced in our daily living by the images that are fed to our eyes and ears, the things that dwell in our memory and bring forth emotions than we are influenced by our rational thoughts.  The Easter story in the gospels appeal to us, I hope, because they appeal to our imagination.
     That very first Easter:  they thought and felt that it was all over, that Jesus was dead, and they might be next.  They were afraid, locked in a room.  There's confusion among them because the women come back with an unbelievable story.  They went to the tomb with spices to anoint the body, part of the Jewish tradition for honoring a deceased loved one.  They were dealing with their pain, expressing their grief and dealing with closure.  The tomb was to be a memorial, a place to go to remember their times with Jesus.  But... the stone had been rolled back to the tomb and was empty.  Mary of Magdala begins to cry, certain that Jesus' body had been manhandled and carried away.  Seeing a man she thinks is the gardener, she asks where the body is.  But it is Jesus, and all he says is, "Mary."
     When the women return to tell the apostles about their experience, they are met with incredulity.  Peter has to check it out.  He returns amazed.  But the common feeling was probably one of being let down by Jesus who had inspired in them wondrous feelings of hope and expectation.
     Two of the disciples decide to get out of Jerusalem and return home to the village of Emmaus.  They meet a stranger and engage in a lively discussion about Jesus.  It's almost night so they invite the stranger to stay with them.  After all, he listened to their fears and defeats.  The stranger joins them at table, takes bread, blesses it, breaks it, and gives it to them.  "Then their eyes were opened, and they recognized him; and he vanished from their sight."  Although Jesus Christ vanishes from their sight, he will be forever with them in "the breaking of the bread," the experience of the church down the ages.  What they thought was a journey away from Jesus was, in fact, leading them back to him.  The story told by the woman seemed too good to be true.  It wasn't the real world, life is simply not that good.  They came to believe that it was so good that it had to be true.  They hurry back to Jerusalem.  They meet with the apostles and other disciples who tell the two, "the Lord has risen indeed!"  They tell their story, and how he had been made known to them in the breaking of the bread.