After Ash Wednesday services, I always walk away with a darkly smudged thumb on my right hand. That is because I have pressed that finger into the ashes several dozen times—and then wiped the ashes on people’s foreheads while reminding them that they are of dust and to dust they shall return. There is something wonderfully vulnerable and personal about applying ashes on Ash Wednesday—literally touching the foreheads of friends and strangers alike and doing so out of a shared commitment to the gospel of Jesus Christ. Seeing my smudged thumb later reminds me of that faith connection. It is a mark of honor, stubbornly ground into the literal whorls and lines of my thumbprint.
After Palm Sunday, there are invariably palm branches lying around the church. Before that special day, palm branches are mailed to the church in packaging awaiting someone to patiently separate them and prepare them for distribution. You can picture the children waving them; you can imagine the adults carefully folding the leaves into crosses. Palm branches serve as lingering reminders of that day when people cried out to Jesus as their Savior, seeking his help. Every year a few branches make it into my office. Others are kept by our housekeeping staff to be burnt for next year’s Ash Wednesday ashes. They all remind me of how we are part of the Palm Sunday story—part of the crowd calling out to Jesus, seeking to find our place in the larger story of faith with Christ at its center.
By contrast, there isn’t anything tangible that I take away from the Easter services. Yes, there are lilies and spring flowers that decorate the sanctuary, but they are somewhat tangential to the larger message of resurrection. There are Easter eggs and jelly beans and chocolate bunnies, but they are obvious secular appropriations of the religious holiday and more of a distraction than a spiritual discipline. There is the Easter service itself—with communion that is shared, with uplifting hymns and music and fellowship. As wonderful as that all is, it doesn’t linger as long as one might hope. We move past Easter Sunday to regular ol’ Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and soon enough find ourselves simply living out our mid-April, uneventful routines.
But there are two things that do linger from Easter and remind us of Christ’s resurrection long after Easter services are done. The first is sunshine itself, especially when seen near the horizon just after sunrise. The primary image for Easter is that of sunlight breaking over a cemetery landscape—breaking into the darkness and despair of grieving women disciples—and illuminating a wonderful, unimagined, bright new reality. The one who was dead is now alive! That reminder should not be limited to Easter mornings. It is one that should come to mind every time we marvel at a bright, sunny day or pause to reflect on the colors and beauty of an early morning sunrise.
The second persistent reminder is Sunday morning. We gather to worship on Sundays, as opposed to other days or evenings of the week, solely because of Easter. Because Christ was raised on that day, we gather each Sunday to remember that good news and look for him in the faces around us, the sacraments we share, and the worship we offer. Each Sunday is Easter Sunday. By holding onto that perspective, every week becomes one inaugurated and invigorated by the Easter good news. So hold onto these Easter reminders for the weeks ahead: Christ is risen. He is risen indeed!
Randy Bush