By Saturday, Easter has reached a most advanced and slightly dangerous stage.
It has begun to affect our sense of humour.
Now, this may not sound particularly theological at first.
But stay with me.
Because one of the most delightful — and frequently overlooked — consequences of the resurrection is this:
It gives us permission to laugh.
Not cynically.
Not dismissively.
But joyfully.
Because when death has been defeated…
…everything else becomes just a little less intimidating.
You may have noticed this already.
Things that would normally frustrate you now seem slightly less urgent. Situations that once demanded solemn seriousness now invite a gentler response.
And, most curiously of all, you may find yourself laughing at things that would previously have caused you to sigh heavily and reach for additional coffee.
This is not carelessness.
This is Easter.
Because the resurrection quietly rearranges our perspective.
The disciples, after all, did not become instantly composed, perfectly organized individuals following Easter morning.
They remained gloriously human.
They misunderstood things.
They asked questions.
They returned, at one point, to fishing — which suggests that even after encountering the risen Christ, they were still capable of saying, “Well… what shall we do now?”
And into all of that humanity, Jesus steps.
Not with exasperation.
But with grace.
Which is very good news.
Because it means that our own slightly imperfect, occasionally muddled, frequently amusing attempts at faithful living are not obstacles to Easter joy.
They are part of it.
Now, if we are being honest, parish life provides no shortage of opportunities for this kind of grace-filled humour.
There are moments when things go beautifully.
And there are moments when things go… memorably.
The hymn that begins in one key and courageously explores several others.
The announcement that becomes a small speech.
The carefully planned event that takes an unexpected turn and somehow becomes better for it.
And somewhere in all of this, Easter is present.
Not in spite of the imperfections.
But within them.
Because resurrection joy is not about achieving perfection.
It is about living in the freedom of knowing that perfection is not required.
Christ is risen.
And therefore, we are free.
Free to try.
Free to fail.
Free to laugh.
Free to begin again.
And this freedom is deeply joyful.
It lightens the spirit. It softens the edges of our expectations. It allows us to hold our lives — and ourselves — a little more gently.
So today, if something goes slightly awry…
…if plans wobble, words tangle, or circumstances take a mildly unexpected turn…
take a moment.
Smile.
And perhaps even laugh.
Because the tomb is empty.
And if the tomb is empty…
…then even our small missteps are held within a much larger grace.
Which, when you think about it, is rather wonderful.
So go ahead.
Live lightly today.
Laugh freely.
Trust deeply.
Because Easter joy is not only for the grand moments.
It is for this moment.
And this one.
And even the slightly awkward one that is probably just around the corner.
Alleluia.
Companion Prayer
Risen Lord,
You meet us
in our humanity
with patience and grace.
Teach us to live lightly,
to laugh freely,
and to trust deeply in your love.
When we stumble,
remind us that we are held.
When we falter,
remind us that we are forgiven.
And fill our lives
with the joyful freedom
of your resurrection.
Alleluia. Amen.