Another Easter arrives, and again, we proceed with hesitance and fear.

We struggle with our beliefs. We are unsure how to celebrate. We ask, is there really something to celebrate? Our normal world may never return. We can feel isolated and separated from each other, wondering if we should leave our homes. In a time of political unrest, we are unsure of the stories we are hearing from the outside world. And in these circumstances, we are blessed to experience Easter in the same way as the first followers of Christ.

Those followers were in stunned shock following the crucifixion of Jesus, the Messiah who was continually surrounded by miracles they experienced firsthand. The disciples were divided and scattered, fearfully locking themselves inside houses. They could not believe Christ was risen when told by those who had witnessed the empty tomb. Those founders of the church—so without hope—struggled to believe even when they experienced the resurrected Christ with their own eyes and ears.

In our age and society, regardless of faith, there is nothing to doubt about Easter. This religious and civic holiday is a safe, lifelong, comforting, and predictable ritual. We are sure of the story. After a long and grey Lenten season, after the frightening nights of Holy Week, we rely on Easter as tritely as the third act of a movie where the hero miraculously wins at the end.

We depend on Easter as a time to gather with our church and family in our brightest of clothes, with blooming flowers, and relishing the tastes of traditional meals and whatever we gave up for Lent. Back to normal, thank you Jesus.

This year, for two Easters in a row, it’s not been so simple. This has been a year of examining the basic realities of our lives: how we gather, how we worship, where we travel, how we eat, and even how we breathe.

In reality, we get to live in the world of the early Christians. Like them, we know the resurrection story, but aren’t given any specifics of how be church and carry on Christ’s work except for a few open commandments to love God and neighbor.

With the numerous difficulties imposed by the pandemic, our church has been anything but normal, while the needs of neighbor remain ever-present and undiminished. While we as church stumble in grief and pain, it is good to remember that the suffering of the world hasn’t changed this year, but was instead amplified and made more obvious to us. Our call was clarified.

I am grateful and heartened for the hundreds of new and creative ways the ministries of our synod have continued the work of God. Every day, you have leaned into the unknown and found a way. Some of these innovations will continue to be refined and serve generations of Christians, who will view them as “normal.” What a gift it is for us to see the work of the Holy Spirit so plainly manifest. Let us rejoice in these transformations.

Like the early church, we are experiencing Easters without tradition. Together, we wandered through a full church year in exile. Is this the only chance in our lifetime to experience God and Jesus in such strange and real ways?

I ask you: what stone is crying out to be rolled away in your life? You can see it now, blocking the light in your cave.

I ask you: what do you see shining in the fresh dawn of today? It may be an old thing, a new thing, or a thing unknown.

I ask you: beloved child of God, what inside you is being made new, in the light of this risen Christ before you?

The Rev. Deborah K. Hutterer
Bishop
Grand Canyon Synod of the ELCA