When I was a child—many years ago now—we would draw Easter on our school notebooks: bells ringing in celebration, peach blossoms in full bloom, swallows soaring through the sky. We would carefully prepare a little letter with greetings for our parents, decorated with these three symbols. Even now, when Easter draws near, they come back to me.
I'm almost afraid to ask my grandchildren if they still draw bells, peach blossoms, and swallows in flight at this time of year. I suspect I would be disappointed.
And yet, beyond nostalgia, there is something I find beautiful in thinking about what those drawings still represent today—when the bells ring so rarely (at least in the great cities), when the peach branches we see have been scraped together from some florist's window, and the swallows... are there still any?
The bells, with their joyful, ringing voice, called us to celebrate. They announced the greatest event in Christian history, proclaiming to all the resurrection of Jesus: the faith that brings us certainty that if He rose, then we too are called to stand upright before death. That death which can frighten us, grieve us, sadden us—but which no longer has the final word. What would our laborious trudging after Jesus mean without the certainty of resurrection? That is why the peach blossoms bid us lift our heads, to awaken again, and to recover that hope which so often abandons us. "Winter has passed." "Behold, I make all things new."
And the flight of swallows across a cleared sky invites us to that profound joy, so rare to see on our faces—faces bent so low toward the earth and all its hollow enticements. Yes, the Lord is risen, truly risen!
Let us find again, with courage and faith and hope, the desire to continue our journey. Though it is hard and weary, uncertain and full of doubt, if it remains intimately united to the passion and resurrection of Jesus, it will bring us even now true joy.