"If you can't find a seat, don't worry. Next week, we'll have plenty of room."

That was how a priest at my parish opened mass this morning, and we all knew exactly what he meant.  This is what it looked like from the front door of the church at 1:15, Easter Sunday:

Standing room only at all the masses, lots of unfamiliar faces, a few colorful hats. A couple people who had been baptized the night before came again on Sunday, which always touches me. They just can’t stay away.

The altar servers have developed a new spin on using the thurible: swinging it 360 degrees. When you see two of these guys doing it, in perfect sync, during the “Hallelujah” Chorus, it’s literally breathtaking.  Witnessing that spectacle, a couple elderly women had their eyebrows arched in perpetual astonishment, their mouths forming a silent “Wow.”

He has been raised.  That’s a good reason for “Wow.”

After four days, nine liturgies, the Seven Last Words, one Exultet, one long rehearsal, one Ephphatha rite, one last minute homily (the Easter Vigil assignment came up at 9:30 Friday night) and a few hundred communions distributed (out of several thousand for the weekend), I can only say this: I’m just grateful to be able to sit down and take off my shoes.

He has been raised. And now I’m taking a nap. Happy Easter, all.