Once there was a little boy who imagined himself a warrior. He loved swords and always was ready to challenge Dad, Grandpapa, and any visitor to a fight. If facing a giant, six foot seven or so, he was fearless. He would lay about with his sword even when being twirled through the air.
His victories were real, because he was brave, even if the situations, battles, and victories he imagined were not. He thought they were and so they were to him. That is not enough in one way, no maidens, kingdoms, or treasure hordes were saved, but it was altogether wonderful in another. He thought there was a challenge, steeled himself to the fray, and fought like a champion.
Such grit makes a good man.
So we are when it comes to the victory of Jesus over sin, hell, and death. We are allowed to participate in His victory. We know the battle is won on the first meaningful Sunday in human history: the Day the tomb was opened. We know that our swords are metaphysical plastic and our foes, defeated but still squabbling, are powerful. Most of all, we do not know ourselves, yet love what we perceive to be self.
We resist giving up our images, even if God would give us access to our true selves in return. Burn the false idols and gain true icons.
Yet in the moment, the time when the battle is joined in our lives, when temptations, pain, death appear, this is (nearly) impossible to believe. We put on the armor Father has given us and join the fray. Dad is delighted, because the battle is won and his child has shown courage. The courage is, perhaps, not necessary to the grand cosmic struggle, but good for the child’s development.
The youngling grows up and becomes a man. He discovers that his great triumphs were different than he imagined, but discovers his victories over self were more meaningful than his dreams. The dreams were pleasant after all, no harm done, and the training priceless. No epic was created, but a pleasant family story, worth telling at a family feast, say a wedding, is made.
“Do you remember when. . . ”
We fight best we can, God help us. We do not battle each other, if we could only see the truth. The Son of God commanded us to love our enemies and forgave his murderers from the Cross. Our contributions to the victory are nothing, Jesus harrowed Hell. We merely consent to Paradise. Yet that consent, submission to perfect Love and Justice with mercy is hard. We wish to be the hero and not the rescued. We dream of being the chosen one and so might resent the Chosen One who loves us.
Today, especially today, we should offer our fealty to the High King of Heaven and our small swords to His service. All is well, because there is a battle to be fought, the battle of consenting to what is good, true, and beautiful. If we will, then we can side with total victory, great joy, feasting in the mead halls of Paradise eternally.
The Church waits for Pascha, Easter having come.*
Western people became alienated from the Church, but grace is great and so many are found in the Western wilderness faithful to Christ Jesus. The ancient Church in the lands where Christianity was born follows a different date for Pascha. May the day soon come when all schisms are healed and the one Church find all her separated brothers and sisters. That will be a Pascha indeed.
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