The trouble with Easter is that it’s—well—Easter.
Let me explain. We are all familiar with the Easter story—in fact, most of us are too familiar with it.
By the end of the Triduum, we may simply tune out from sheer tiredness, chocolate overdose, and multiple guest-based and catering anxieties.
What is left to say about this pivotal fact at the heart of our entire faith? How can I get you to think differently about Easter this year?
This year, what struck me is one word I’d like to share with you. That word is “Eleven.”
That’s “eleven” with a capital E, as in THE Eleven.
It’s in Mark’s Gospel (Mark 16:14). “Later he appeared to the Eleven themselves as they were sitting at the table; and he upbraided them for their lack of faith and stubbornness, because they had not believed those who saw him after he had risen.”
Not the Twelve. But there were meant to be Twelve.
The Twelve were chosen because that was the number of the tribes of Israel. They were promised seats on twelve thrones to judge those twelve tribes (Matt 19:28).
But now we’re down to Eleven with a capital E. And if Peter had failed after his betrayal and gone the way of Judas, we’d be talking about the Ten.
The resurrected Jesus would presumably nominate a second “rock” on which the church could be built. It just wouldn’t be Peter anymore.
And later the Ten would have drawn the names of two new apostles by lot (Acts 1:12-26).
Do you see what I’m saying here? Things don’t always go according to plan, especially in the redemption of the world.
We weren’t even supposed to need redeeming, until we made such a mess of things that God had to use the alternate ending.
You can start dissecting this and trying to work out God’s primary will and secondary will and whatever else, but you’ll probably just make yourself unwell.
Instead, I’d like you to meditate on the fact that not all of the Twelve made it, purely because of bad personal choices.
Did Jesus upbraid them because there were only eleven instead of twelve? No.
He just accepted that he had only eleven left to work with, and he started with that instead.
The overall plan of God did not swerve one inch. It just bypassed the obstacle and re-formed around it.
I don’t want to get into the whole predestination thing, except to remind you that Catholics don’t believe in predestination.
Nor is any prophecy of doom or destruction a foregone conclusion, except the final one in the Book of Revelation where God re-creates everything.
(And yes, that includes the copious writings of your favourite unauthorised mystic/s and their many, many internet disciples. It may never happen, especially if we repent.)
Free will is the most precious gift of God to us, after the gift of life. He wants to see us using it properly.
Our behaviour can and does change God’s plan, all the time. We make good choices and bad choices.
In fact, I’d guess that the person most likely to get in the way of us living happy and contented lives in God is not the devil. It’s actually us.
We fence God in with the smallness of our faith and imagination, and our attempts to “change” which are really just attempts to keep things exactly the same.
So what I would like you to do this Easter is: Give God room. Lots of room.
Don’t fence him in with your fears, anger, hatreds, prophecies, hell-cowbell, or your hand-wringing about committing the same sins over and over again.
Have you made a mess of something? Let him work around the damage. He can, and he will.
Go to him in confession. Admit that you have been getting in his way in your own life, and in the lives of others.
Say sorry and then ask him to work around you. Believe him when he says to you, “’Of course I want to!” (Mark 1:41)
The results will probably not be what you expect. They may be a completely different shape and size and involve different people.
But they will be better, bigger, kinder, and safer than what you were planning for yourself.
Easter is about the restoration and renewal of tired, dry, cracked lives. He can make them young and green again if you ask him—and if you let him.
You just have to ask—and then receive. And remember to say thank you.
Happy Easter!