"He is not here. He is risen!"

... there comes in the end a sort of quietness. You feel as if nothing is ever going to happen again.

C. S. Lewis ~ The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe

The church is dark. It has been dark since Holy Thursday's mass ended. Now it's Saturday night and a deep quiet has settled over everyone. Outside the cold early spring air drives people inside the still darkness of the church. We are sitting or kneeling in the pews. Jesus is in his tomb and we are waiting and praying in sorrowful silence. Our fellow Christians are dark forms around us, huddled close together for warmth and comfort. Jesus was put to death two thousand years ago but the sorrow comes to us across the ages like an echo. But it's not the same kind of sorrow that we felt last night. Friday was a day of tears of repentance. This in a kind of numbness but with small flickering anticipation. We know He will rise but, even with all the Easter preparations we have been making all day, the moment we enter the church there is nothing but that empty tabernacle where Jesus used to be and now he's not. That familiar candle, like a faithful souls perpetually adoring our Lord, is out, only a dead black wick. Everything we are doing after mass or tomorrow is gone. Nothing is ever going to happen again.

In the back of the church there are people stirring. The wind comes in through the open doors. People shudder and draw closer together. The priest's voice is heard from just outside the church were they have lit a small fire. He tells us of the night we are commemorating; We are keeping vigil by the tomb where, this night, Christ passes from death to life. The fire flickers in his eyes as he lifts his hands in blessing over the Easter Fire. A new candle is blessed. It replaces the one that was put out on Good Friday. It will shine as a symbol of hope for the next year. It is lit with the Easter Fire and then the priest enters the church. He holds the Easter Candle high above his head. I cannot see the figure in the doorway but I can see the flame of hope flickering in the big empty darkness of the church. Lumen Christi! "Christ our light!" The priest sings in solemn joy. Deo gratias! "Thanks be to God!" we respond with one voice. The light is lowered out of sight once more and moves down the aisle. It stops again after a few paces and an alter boy lights a small candle from Easter flame. As the Priest sings again, "Christ our light!" the alter boy brings his flame to the person at the end of the last pew and touches his wick to theirs. So the flame is passed. "Go and make disciples of all nations" As the Easter Candle moves down the center aisle the light spreads behind it. All our little lights together make the church glow and shadows dance. Each hand and face is lit and each eye shines.
The Easter Candle has reached the alter now. The priest is singing again. He tells us the story of a night like this one two thousand years ago when Christ passed from death to life. "This is the night!" He repeats again and again. His voice rises and falls above us.

Then we recount our history. In the darkness we hear the story of creation and the fall of Man. All the greatest stories in the history of our salvation are told. Psalms are sung between readings. This is our story. We hear how God's love turned the fall of Adam into the greatest wonder and glory of all. Oh happy fault that gained for us such a redeemer.

Then the moment for which we have waited since Ash Wednesday. The bells begin to toll and the lights suddenly blaze. We lift our voices up and sing the first Alleluia in forty days. We stand and hear the last and greatest story. The women find the tomb empty. "He is not here. He is risen." Alleluia.

Now the Church welcomes new members. There are Baptisms and Confirmations. We see the joy on the new Catholic's faces as they finally come home. "Be sealed with the Holy Spirit." Alleluia!

We sing Alleluia over and over many times before the celebration is over. At every full stop in fact. We've been without it for all of Lent. We sing it as we kneel and give thanks. We sing it when we stand at the end of Mass with Christ in our hearts.

When Mass is over the children will be eating their long hoarded candy. Or trying to while their parent try to put them in bed and make them wait till the morning.

"Now come the days of the King, may they be blessed."

J. R. R. Tolkien ~ The Return of the King

Fifty days of unrestrained rejoicing! Catholics are party animals at heart. We may seem very solemn during Lent but one must remember that Lent is only forty days. We know that we will be celebrating a whole ten days longer!

"...and then the streams would run with wine instead of water and the whole forest would give itself up to jollification for weeks on end."

C. S. Lewis ~ The Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe