Easter Is About Faith, Not Religion

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Spring seems very shy about popping out of hiding this year. While scratching around on our lawn and digging in flower beds, I find little indication that we're already past mid-April.

I did discover one rather healthy dandelion sprouting on the lawn. Now, we are mortal enemies, dandelions and I.

But I commuted sentence on the dandelion. I am so desperate for evidence of the onset of spring that I decided to let the dandelion continue living. One bright-yellow flower by Easter Sunday would do much to brighten a drab lawn.

Easter is about love and forgiveness. The celebration of Easter ought not be an act of desperation. Simplest is best. Simplest can also be powerful. I believe the simple act of forgiving the existence of a single dandelion points in the right direction.

Sunday was Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. As Holy Week unfolds, the story emerges of six days of meshing terror and love. That's a fair description of what life is all about.

Not everyone is equally impressed with the idea of observing a Holy Week. A huge billboard along the Ohio turnpike south of Toledo declares, "JESUS IS COMING, MAY 2011." I guess someone wants things over and done with quicker than a sluggish spring. Personally, I hope to see our lily of the valley blooming by mid-May.

Some commentators speak openly of a post-Christian era. They view churches as institutions in a state of decline.

The commentators may be right. But activity in churches everywhere will challenge that impression of decline between now and next Sunday. The activity may also create a lot of baggage.

Churches routinely lament the reduction of Easter to colored eggs and chocolate bunnies.

On the other hand, people who favor colored eggs and chocolate bunnies might wish churches would mind their own business about Easter.

But the business of the church is about Easter. Even more so than Christmas.

Easter is about faith, not religion. Perhaps social commentators are observing the chronic tendency toward a steady deterioration of faith into religion, sort of like the way vibrant plutonium decays into leadlike uranium.

There is nothing new about this. The decay of faith into mere religion is inevitable unless the spirit of faith is constantly renewed and refreshed.

When faith deteriorates into mere religion, you end up with a great deal of baggage. Worst of all, it turns out to be other people's baggage.

This deterioration of faith into religion is well-illustrated in the ninth chapter of John's Gospel. The story is about Pharisees lugging an intolerable burden of baggage. They are determined to heap their baggage on everyone else.

This highly favored disciple of Jesus named John spends all of chapter nine unraveling a heated controversy about the apparent healing of a man born blind. The details are interesting. It's fortunate the blind man was unable to watch Jesus mixing up some mud to smear on his eyes.

This man, blind from birth, appears to have regained his sight. He's pretty happy about it. His family is happy also.

But joy and celebration are never free from jealousy and hate. The Pharisees were unhappy. They immediately feared a challenge to their authority.

In the end, the Pharisees earned a rather bad name for themselves by opposing Jesus. Their actions forever tarnished their own title. No one today cares to be dismissed as "pharisaical." But it's an easy trap to fall into.

The Pharisees could care less that a blind man was healed. They felt threatened about a power shift favoring Jesus. They needed to find ways of diminishing both Jesus and the blind man.

They settled on a legal strategy. Jesus dared to perform this healing on the Sabbath day. That was against the Law.

So the Pharisees launched an investigation. Who sinned here? Was the man really healed? By whose authority did the healing occur? How could someone perform a healing on the Sabbath and still consider himself a man of God?

Their investigation led abruptly to the events we now associate with Holy Week; a timeless story of love and terror violently comingling. The effect is not unlike the struggle of spring trying to chase winter away. The sight of a blooming dandelion might help the cause.

Like churches everywhere, ours will be doing special things leading up to the Easter festival. Easter Sunday is special. Our Good Friday cantata also promises to be special.

It takes tremendous effort to gather an orchestra of two dozen professional musicians, and then train a chorus of 40 parishioners to sing along with them. That, plus the extra effort to train a troupe of children and adults to perform a playlet along with the music.

Faith is revitalized in many ways. Quiet reflection works for me. Elaborate effort can also be revitalizing to faith.

Revitalizing means dumping a lot of the baggage of mere religion in favor of an active faith. You might consider the forthcoming communitywide service called Labor of Love. Working for others can be very revitalizing.

Faith is vital to life. I pray you find vitality for your faith and life. I hope to record the revitalizing power of a dandelion flower by Easter Sunday.

A blessed Easter to you.