Easter gets short shrift among Christian holy days.
Powered by the year-end holiday furor, Christmas receives a solid month of attention. Weekly Advent ceremonies and seasonal songs sharpen our focus on the day when Jesus made his understated appearance on the world stage.
Christmas is not to blame for this, but our observation of the day seems ostentatious in comparison to how we treat Easter.
Our Protestant liturgy by and large dismisses the season of Lent as a vestigial Catholic tradition, a 40-day period of half-hearted self-denial leading up to a break from work on Good Friday and Easter dinner. Passion Week seems a misnomer, at least judging by my own emotional response to the span between Palm Sunday and the day our Lord was raised from the dead.
What are we missing? Why can’t we work up the same excitement for Easter that we do for Christmas?
I don’t have an answer, but here’s something that may help.
Over the past four springs, my wife has been lucky enough to participate in a performance of the Lamb of God oratorio in Kalamazoo, Michigan. Billed as “a sacred musical retelling of the final days of the life of Jesus Christ, His Atonement and Resurrection,” the performance represents exactly what Easter should feel like: a breathtaking celebration of the king of the universe, made flesh, doing exactly what he came to earth to do.
Jesus himself never appears as a character in the performance. Instead, we’re left to view his impact through the words of his closest followers. I would walk you through each song of the show, but I’ll limit myself to three.
The middle portion of the performance focuses primarily on Peter, beginning with scenes of the Last Supper.
When Jesus reveals that one of his twelve disciples will soon betray him, Peter leads a firm declaration that none will fall away, himself least of all.
“Lord, is it I? Could ever I betray Thee?” he sings. “Having followed with Thee, could I seek some other way? Though my heart is willing, could my flesh become so weak? If I should leave Thee, whom would I seek?”
Peter answers his own question: “Let mountains fall! Yet one thing shall I know: I will not leave Thee. If I should leave Thee, where would I go?”
Three songs later, Jesus has been taken prisoner in Gethsemane.
Defiant in the face of the arrest, Peter proudly sings of his faithfulness: “The others flee, how soon He is forsaken. And shall I flee? Abandon Him to face this all alone? But He won't fight. Is He willing to allow this foul deceit? Still, I must follow.”
Peter trails at a distance, watching as Jesus is convicted of blasphemy in a sham trial.
As the trial unfolds, his conviction wanes, until he finds himself denying he ever knew Jesus.
Despondent at his betrayal, Peter weeps bitterly as he sees Jesus beaten: “I watch them spit and strike Thy face, They mock Thy name in foul disgrace. And when Thou lookest for a friend, Thou findest none, for I have fled! Oh God! What have I done?”
But though Peter won’t be restored until the very end of the show, his next song represents the essence of the Easter season.
Faced with the horror of his own sin, Peter can’t bear to watch Jesus sacrifice himself, “for surely he must carry all my burden.”
But in the midst of his lowest point, Peter sings of hope: “Forgive me, Lord, that I'm not there. But, when my eyes have closed in death, these words will hang on my last breath: I know Him.”
This is Easter, sung by a first class voice with the backing of one of the great orchestra’s of the world.
Jesus, knowing our sins past, present, and future, willingly gave himself up for us. Peter, realizing his own sins are being heaped on a man who deserves none of the brutal punishment he must bear, still turns to Jesus for help.
It may not make up entirely for our lack of attention to the greatest of all days, but it’s a start.