As a churchgoing Catholic young man, I always liked Easter. The sacrifice of Jesus, the meaning of that sacrifice, and the transformation that resulted, all carried great personal importance for me. I liked that it had both sombre and celebratory aspects; I liked that it was the most resonantly mythic aspect of Christianity; I liked the way it led me to reflect upon my own life.
Above all, I loved the Easter story for the humility at its core. This came back to me when I wandered Europe a few years back, seeing museums full of statues of the gods unseated by Christianity – all of them exalted figures, perfect, mighty, combative, awesome. And the image placed at the centre of Christianity is a man reduced to as little as a man can be; frail, wracked, and dying in agony. It is true that the tale of being hung on a tree, passing into death and then returning is a recurring motif in the history of human myth – but until Christianity, the suffering was not the focus. The resurgence into power was the focus. This is a pretty profound change.
(Okay, there are probably examples I’ve missed but what the heck, I’ll make the claim anyway. More informed people can prove me wrong.)
The humility of it, the connection between the divine and the human through the medium of suffering – this is hugely significant and even now I wonder at it. It always seemed important to me that the Jesus who died on the cross was not the Jesus who came forth from the tomb. He was the same man, but utterly transformed. And the focus of Christianity, rightfully, is on the man before that transformation, when he was most fully human.
I am no longer a Christian in any meaningful sense of the word, but I will always strive to interact with the world with Christlike love. I am indivisible from the Christian faith that shaped me. And I like it that way.
Have a good Easter, everyone.