Easter often feels to me so astonishing, so great and generous a truth, that I do not quite know what to do with it. Don't misunderstand me. I love the fresh whiteness of the lilies, the bright blare of trumpets, the expectant hope of newness echoed in the green branches of the springtime landscape. But it is almost too blinding a mystery to behold all at once, too deep a teaching to encompass.
The rest of this article is only available to subscribers.
© 2014 Augsburg Fortress, Publishers