Easter

If we were to look only at this life, brothers and sisters, we would have to conclude that death triumphs. As we grow up, we begin to realize this when our first pet dies. As time goes on, I notice more and more how many people have their first encounter with death in the loss of a parent, a sibling, or a friend. First it takes our loved ones, then it comes back to take us. Death knows no friendships, no love, no mercy. It seems to do only one thing: it triumphs over everything and everyone.

It is curious, however, that the New Testament uses the word “triumph” only twice, and in neither case is it applied to death. The second of these instances is in Colossians 2, where Saint Paul writes: “God disarmed the powers and authorities, and made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross” (Col. 2:14–15). And here I ask you for a moment of patience if I linger on this word, “triumph,” because for Paul it had a specific meaning. We tend to think of “triumph” simply as a great victory, but in the Roman Empire the triumphus was the procession a victorious general would make when returning to the city after a battle.

Let me give you an example. In 71 BC, the Roman general Pompey returned to Rome victorious after a military campaign in what is now Turkey, and he celebrated his triumph. According to the historian Plutarch, it lasted two days and could have lasted even longer. The procession began with inscriptions listing all the defeated nations, the spoils, and the cities founded. Alongside these came the most important prisoners— in Pompey’s case, the leaders of the pirates he had captured—then royal families, hostages, and so on. Further inscriptions recorded the immense wealth gained through the victory, the equivalent of billions of euros today. Even the soldiers received a share, starting from the equivalent of four or five years’ wages. Then came the display of battle trophies. There were also songs to the gods, songs in honor of the general, while the citizens filled the streets to welcome the victorious army home.

I hope this historical aside has not bored you. I mention it for a reason: Saint Paul takes this concept of “triumph,” this glorious parade of victory, and applies it… to the cross of Christ. For the Jews, death on a tree was a sign of a curse (Deuteronomy 21). For the Romans, it proved that not even Jesus of Nazareth could overcome the overwhelming power of the empire (think of Spartacus…). But for us, it has become His instrument of triumph: CHRIST CRUCIFIED, A STUMBLING BLOCK TO JEWS AND FOOLISHNESS TO GENTILES, BUT TO US THE POWER OF GOD AND THE WISDOM OF GOD (1 Cor. 1:23–24).

How can God take on human form only to be killed like a criminal? If He had been born in a royal palace, if He had won many battles, perhaps He would not have scandalized the Jews or seemed ridiculous to the Gentiles. But why be nailed to the wood of the curse and be humiliated to the point of death? Because only there could He find us, dear brothers and sisters. The religions of the world are convinced that human beings can reach God by their own efforts. In Hinduism and Buddhism, people even speak of the “enlightened,” those who have already reached God or even become one with Him (like the Indian gurus). But we know that all humanity is imprisoned in the filth of sin, and the only way to bring us out was for God Himself to come down and take hold of us.

And so God the Son did exactly this, showing us an indescribable love: HE TOOK THE FORM OF A SERVANT… HE HUMBLED HIMSELF, BECOMING OBEDIENT TO DEATH—EVEN DEATH ON A CROSS (Phil. 2:7–8). We: guilty, dying, rightly abandoned by God. And He became our companion. Though He had committed no sin, He allowed Himself to be treated by men as a sinner. Though He was Life, He accepted death. Though He was the beloved Son, from the cross He cried out: “MY GOD, MY GOD, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?” (Matt. 27:46). God saw humanity in its misery… and chose to unite Himself to it.

But this union changed everything. You see, brothers and sisters, humanity on its own has no right to make any claim before God. (Even as Christians, the only reason the Father listens to us is Christ.) But the moment the voice of the perfect Son sounded in the midst of the human crowd, everything changed. We are wicked sinners, deserters of our Creator… but Christ is not! Therefore, when Christ pleaded with the Father, “INTO YOUR HANDS I COMMIT MY SPIRIT” (Luke 23:46), God listened immediately. Jesus was the only one who could make such a claim before God, because He alone had not deserved this punishment. God is the perfectly just Judge: He could not allow the unjust condemnation of Christ to go unanswered. And so, early on Sunday morning, He overturned the human verdict. Jesus was vindicated, coming out of the tomb.

Christ is risen! (He is risen indeed! Alleluia!)

But you see, brothers and sisters, we have said that God the Son united Himself to humanity. This is true in the Incarnation, but even more so now that He had descended into the realm of death—there is no abyss farther from God. Therefore, in the Resurrection, we too, who are united to Christ in baptism, have been raised! He alone could make such a request to the Father, to be delivered from death—but in coming out of the tomb, He “pulled” us out with Him! And death? It could do nothing: it had killed the Innocent, and therefore now had to release the guilty.

I told you that the word “triumph” appears twice in the New Testament. One we have already seen. The other also comes from Saint Paul: “Thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ” (2 Cor. 2:14).

Christ is risen! (He is risen indeed! Alleluia!)

And He is risen because He was the only one who did not deserve death. I am reminded of the words of Psalm 18: “They confronted ME in the day of my calamity, but the LORD was my support. He brought me out into a spacious place; He rescued me, because He delighted in me. The LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness; according to the cleanness of my hands He has recompensed me… I was blameless before Him, and I kept myself from my sin; therefore the LORD has rewarded me according to my righteousness, according to the cleanness of my hands in His sight” (18:18–20, 23–24).

This is the song that Christ could sing on Easter morning. But just as He shared in our misery, we now share in His victory. The victory of the One who is absolutely, unquestionably, perfectly right. We were not right—we had no case against death—but Christ did, and now that we are united to Him, we too can look death in the face and say: “You are no longer in the right! You do not truly triumph!”

There are so many metaphors we could use to describe this victory. THANKS BE TO GOD, WHO ALWAYS LEADS US IN TRIUMPH IN CHRIST! In a triumph the world does not see or understand, our General, Jesus Christ, marches in victory, dragging behind Him the spoils of defeated enemies. And we, who did not fight, return as soldiers. We, who had allied ourselves with the enemy, return as triumphant citizens, because our Commander has chosen to make us sharers in His victory.

Brothers and sisters, take courage! The world, death, and sin will not prevail over you. Death may put us to sleep, but it cannot destroy us. Pain may wound us, but it cannot crush us. Sin may trouble us, but it no longer has the final word. And soon—very soon—that triumph of Christ, which is now ours by faith, will be revealed in our bodies. And on that day, very soon, we will know what it truly means to be human: righteous, perfect, immortal, shining like the stars. For Christ already is all these things, and He will transform us into His image.

Christ is risen! (He is risen indeed! Alleluia!)