No one can name a year that changed man and his world for ever, a century or an age.
But it’s easy to say which day did just that. Easter Sunday, some 2,000 years ago today.
Hellenic man always struggled with death, its finality, its cruelty, its nothingness. Death seemed to render life meaningless, deprive it of any sense of purpose.
Life itself had to be regarded as the purpose of life, and the Hellenes, weaned as they were on logic, couldn’t fail to see a self-refuting paradox there.
To be sure, there were all sort of Orphic fantasies about afterlife, but that’s what they were and were seen to be – fantasies.
And then, on this day, some 2,000 years ago, people weren’t just told but shown that, just as there is death in life, so there is life in death.
Now they knew there was no such thing as a happy ending to life. If it was to be happy, it was not the ending.
There had never been such rejoicing, never such an outburst of hope, liberation and energy. Imitating God in Christ became man’s moral commitment. The ability to do so became his ontological property.
Man was no longer a lodger in the world; he had become its eternal owner. He could now imitate Christ not only by being good but also by being creative. And create he did.
Thus, on this day 2,000-odd years ago a new civilisation was born, the likes of which the world had never seen, nor ever will see. More important, a new family came into existence.
Universal brotherhood became a reality: all men were brothers – not because someone said so, but because they all had the same father.
This unity was a bond far stronger than even the ordinary, what is today called ‘biological’, family. And it certainly betokened a much greater concord than any worldly alliances, blocs, contracts, deals, agreements, political unions – or for that matter nations or races.
“There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus,” explained Paul, making every subsequent, secular promise of equality sound puny and vulgar.
It has not always worked out that way. Just like the ancient Hebrews who were dispersed because they broke God’s covenant, the world pushed aside the lifebelt divinely offered.
It hoped to find unity within itself – only to find discord, devastation and the kind of spiritual emptiness for which no material riches can possibly make up.
But the lifebelt was not taken away. It still undulates with the waves, still within reach of anyone ready to grasp it.
This makes today the most joyous day of the year – regardless of whether or not we are Christians, or what kind of Christians.
On this day we can forget our differences and again sense we are all brothers united in the great hope of peace on earth and life everlasting. We can all, regardless of where we live, rejoice on hearing these words, ringing, thundering in whatever language they are spoken:
Christ is risen!
Le Christ est ressuscité!
Christus ist auferstanden!
Cristo ha resucitado!
Cristo è risorto!
Kristus on üles tõusnud!
Kristus er oppstanden!
Xристос воскрес!
Chrystus zmartwychwstał!
Kristus vstal z mrtvých!
Cristo ressuscitou!
Kristus ir augšāmcēlies!
Christus is verrezen!
Χριστὸς ἀνέστη!
Krisztus feltámadt!
Kristus är uppstånden!
Kristus prisikėlė!
Kristus nousi kuolleista!
Hristos a înviat!
INDEED HE IS RISEN!
Anything is possible.
Tha Crìosd air èirigh!
Happy Easter to you and yours, Mr Boot!
And to you too — hope you didn’t OD on that good Scottish lamb (somehow I sense you’d draw the line on deep-fried Mars bars). Xристос воскрес!
Вои́стинꙋ воскре́се!
I had roast pork for my Easter dinner (at about 2 pm). Lamb is often disappointing and, as you know, there’s always a suspicion that it might be halal.
Alas! I’ve never tasted the traditional deep-fried Mars Bar, despite the many panegyrics written in its praise by the guid Scottis makars from John Barbour to Robert Burns. And I don’t even like haggis much. But I did have bashed neeps and roast tatties with my Easter pork.
We had a delightful rack of lamb, from the same butcher Gordon Ramsey uses. I don’t think either our butcher or Ramsay even knows what halal means. But when it comes to buying from supermarkets, we do tend to favour pork, for the same reason you mentioned. But, unlike you, I do like haggis. Our Scottish friend once served us delicious chicken with haggis, a recipe that comes from some island whose name escapes me (starts with a T). But then I like all sorts of perverse foods, such as andouillette, which I suppose is the French answer to haggis. Penelope doesn’t touch it, hates the smell and looks the other way when I eat it. Tête de veau is another delicacy she doesn’t countenance, but I always choose one or the other when they are on the menu.
Kristus telah bangkit!