Easter reminiscence

Easter reminiscence

Fat Tuesday is an exciting day; goodies are relished and the eggs at home contribute to fluffy pancakes, cakes, custards and the works. Then darkness inches its way marking the end of the day, a sign to get ready for the Lenten season, with Ash Wednesday to follow.

The 40-day period of Lent is a time to contemplate. One exercises in self-control by keeping away from eating meat, chocolates, alcohol and a myriad of other things thereby contributing in a big way to ones well-being. But primarily, it is a season of prayer, making a few sacrifices in big and small ways and walking the way of the "stations of the cross".

When in college, a group of us would get together to plan the programme for Good Friday. Some of us dressed in costumes to enact the passion of Christ. The ultimate end to the day would be to watch the skies overcast by clouds, feel the rain on our faces and rejoice in the roll of thunder signified to us a living God above.

What a life Christ's was! A young man who performed miracles in the prime of his life could have had so much. But love and sacrifice alternated with each other with absolutely no will in self-preservation. It was a selfless, unassuming service to mankind with lessons in humility. But where would we understand this?

At the sixth station of the cross, he wiped his face on the veil of Veronica. This imprint of his face, made with sweat and blood on a piece of simple fabric, speaks of so much, love, pain, humility, sacrifice, suffering, forgiveness and most of all, no self-preservation.

A flick of his fingers could have either saved Him or engulfed his enemies. But no, that was not to be. That crown of thorns must have scratched and pricked, contributing the blood to imprint his face. Those shoulders must have hurt terribly having to carry such a huge cross, that robe he wore had lots cast on it, his parched throat to be set afire with a drink of vinegar, those sacred palms that touched, cured and blest to be nailed to a cross. He loved and forgave them even then.

The face of hatred is capable of horrific things. The brain that connived such an execution cannot be given a name. Commanding a brutal act is one, the pleasure one gets watching it unfold is another. To call such beings human would be callous for isn't it a blotch on mankind itself?

With the completion of the entire episode of the "stations of the cross", a realisation always dawns, that there is triumph over evil and that the glory of the wicked is short lived. Easter comes as a soothing balm, with a hope that mercy and compassion will save us with the rebirth of a Living God.