THROUGH UNTRUE

I welcome Easter Sunday with a heart full of hope, joy, and spiritual renewal. Having fulfilled my Holy Week promises, chiefly through acts of penance and the Sacrament of Reconciliation, I feel like a prisoner who has been granted an undeserved pardon. Despite the grave mistakes and sins I have committed, God offers me the opportunity to start anew — no questions asked, no blame, and no threat of condemnation — only pure, unconditional mercy and forgiveness.

Easter Sunday is a day of blessing for those of us burdened by guilt, shame, and fear. Guilt for yielding to the “sugar-coated” sins we found irresistible; shame for the times we compromised our conscience with the devil’s temptations; and fear of the unexpected tragedies that shook our fragile sense of security, like sickness, accidents, loss of loved ones, and calamities.

But on Easter Sunday, all these negative emotions are replaced by hope and joy. The very fact that I am still alive is a testament to God’s relentless love and compassion. He knows I may falter again or betray and reject Him in the days to come. Yet, like the “Hound of Heaven” in Francis Thompson’s poem, God pursues me unceasingly. If I choose to return to Him to seek forgiveness, I do not have to travel far. I only need to turn around, and there He stands, like the father of the Prodigal Son, arms outstretched, ready to welcome me home.

Easter Sunday fills me with overwhelming gratitude. Where guilt, shame, and fear once defined my past, God now assures me that my future will be shaped by the hope He lovingly prepares for me. He offers not just consolation but true comfort when challenges come. The word "comfort" comes from the Latin fortis, meaning strong or brave. Today, I am made strong and courageous through the transforming power of God's forgiveness. No longer do I need to dwell on past wounds. I now possess the strength to forgive myself and others.

The hope that Easter brings is not the same as the Buddhists' passive resignation to suffering nor to the fervent activism of zealots who seek to overthrow the established order. Both kinds of hope arise from a denial of the present. Buddhists seek to escape it by entering a state of altered consciousness, while zealots look beyond it, fixating on a future transformation. Both are forms of escapism.

Christians, however, are Easter people, not escape artists. A faithful Christian faces each day head-on, knowing that, no matter how dark or complex, the present moment is the only time to live fully. Christ did not teach us ways to avoid suffering, fear, guilt, or shame. He taught us to live by faith — a faith that finds meaning even in life's most desperate moments. As one philosopher said, “If you have a ‘why,’ you can bear any ‘how.’” Faith grants us the vision to see everything as a gift — wholly undeserved.

In a world where frowns often come more easily than smiles, Christians are called to be people of joy and hope. Our uninhibited, wholehearted laughter will become a fortress or a strong wall against which all bitterness and misery will smash themselves to pieces.

So today, let us cast aside our sad, cynical faces. Otherwise, we might forget that God gave us faces as invitations to fellowship, not armor or shields. A joyful and hopeful face reflects the beauty of a sunrise, not the deathly silence of a locked door. When we smile and laugh, we not only show what we feel, but we also bring to life what we believe is possible.