“TOMB, thou shalt not hold Him longer;

Death is strong, but life is stronger

Stronger than the dark, the light

Stronger than the wrong, the right…”

Phillips Brooks, “An Easter Carol”

 

Happy Easter all! Jesus is alive. He is risen!

 

The resurrection of Jesus is the very foundation of our Christian faith. Today we celebrate more than just the climax of Holy Week. We are not simply marking the end of the Lenten season. We have reason to rejoice. Jesus died and rose again. Can we even imagine that?

 

Grand finale

 

What is Easter to you?

 

To many it means the end of the 40-day Lenten season, the grand finale of a period of fasting or abstinence from delicious treats, of sacrifice and self-inflicted suffering or deprivation, all with the noble intent to commiserate with Jesus Christ.

 

Of course we know that nothing we do can even come close. But we try.

 

Back in the day, when Lent came around, I was always asked: “What are you giving up?” And my list was the same. Sweets. Movies. Cigarettes. Mahjong.

 

A lot of heavy sighing was involved. That’s almost six weeks! How does one survive? I remember that around the 10th day, I was already nibbling on chocolate kisses and sneaking puffs from someone else’s cigarette. In my mind I wasn’t really smoking.

 

For some, Holy Week is a chance to get away, to relax from every day stresses, to change the atmosphere—of course, always keeping in mind and taking time to reflect on what happened on Calvary.

 

Others participate in penitential processions reenacting the passion, crucifixion and death of Christ. It is a sad and bloody sight.

 

Visita Iglesia is done on Holy Thursday and the Siete Palabras are typically recited on Good Friday.

 

I have fond and vivid memories of the Cabarrus home on Legarda, in the bedroom of Don Juan and Doña Lolita, on our knees in front of their altar. I remember it being very hot, quiet and incredibly solemn. I still recall the verses and responses, all in Spanish. If we giggled or fidgeted, there were big, dagger eyes from Tito Gan. Scary.

 

So how was your Semana Santa? What did you do?

 

After two weeks “under house arrest” with shingles, I spent Holy Week giving profuse thanks that the worst of it was over. It is hard to tell if and when you are really healed. Shingles leaves an annoying residual pain. You worry if the tingling will return, and if that piercing, stabbing, itchy, burning sensation is really gone for good. It is no fun.

 

In Mexico they call it culebrilla. My right torso was affected and, I swear, I can’t think of anyone I dislike so intensely that I would wish shingles on him or her.

 

Second debate

 

On that note, did you watch the second presidential debate? It made me feel uncomfortable, embarrassed. I can’t explain why. I had this fear that perhaps young people were watching. Frightening thought.

 

Reviews from self-styled critics were mixed. Some actually thought it was good. On social media there was the usual bashing.

 

I ask: Was there a book of rules?

 

On stage that night, the mood was combative, testy and even unfriendly. Candidates talked at the same time, called each other names, mocking and sneering. I want to say like little children, but that would be insulting the kids.

 

I called my BFF after the debate. We were depressed, discouraged, and talked about hightailing it to some God-forsaken hideaway where there is neither Internet nor television.

 

Would that help? She and I don’t have the same favorites but that has not affected or tarnished our forever friendship. But the debate was a huge letdown for us, a sad disappointment.

 

Betrayal

 

Earlier in the week it was all about Rizal Commercial Banking Corporation, the bank heist and the hearings. I saw familiar scenes, heard the same pompous discourse and watched the posturing of those seeking “face recall” in May.

 

Politics and politicians! What a joke. It is happening here and in the United States. I don’t know who is worse off.

 

We watched people casually “thrown under the bus.” Blatant, unashamed cover-up, some say. Others whisper “shameless betrayal,” “treachery” from people once believed to be trusted and true.

 

Remember that Jesus was betrayed by one of his own. In today’s language, Judas was “close in.” They say that the stab in the back always comes from someone who sits at your table. Or it wouldn’t be called betrayal.

 

But wait.

 

It is Resurrection Sunday. Let nothing steal your joy. Today we celebrate. Steven James, best-selling novelist and author of “Story,” tells us why:

 

“The gifts of the Master are these: freedom, life, hope, new direction, transformation and intimacy with God. If the cross was the end of the story, we would have no hope. But the cross isn’t the end. Jesus didn’t escape from death; he conquered it and opened the way to heaven for all who will dare to believe. The truth of this moment, if we let it sweep over us, is stunning. It means Jesus really is who He claimed to be, we are really as lost as He said we are, and He is really the only way for us to intimately and spiritually connect with God again.”

 

Thank you, Jesus!