The holiest of all nights. We have the full array of readings to
carry us through the history of salvation beginning with creation and the fall
up to the pivotal kerygma of Holy Mother Church which
is the passion, death and resurrection of Christ. Every bit of scripture is
read in the light of this central proclamation. He died in accordance with the
Scriptures and likewise did He rise. That He is the answer to the questions
posed by the Old Testament is confirmed by the miracles He performed and the
greatest of His miracles is the Resurrection.
So, what are we to make of this night? It appears to be
anti-climactic as we break with tradition—a kind of let down as we are struck
by a disorienting emptiness that is eerily devoid of a human congregation.
Or is it?
On the one hand, could church attendance be going the way of the
entertainment industry, notably of movies and music? One will be hard-pressed
to find the local temple of audio-visual enjoyment crammed with people jostling
to purchase their music CD or movie video. Those who know Speedy Videos know how
pathetically they have been reduced to hawking toys, etc. to make up sales
numbers. Who needs a physical location these days when music and videos can be
streamed directly into one’s device. Digital natives have come to expect their
content—now with the closure of churches, possibly faith content also—to be
delivered online to them, usually, at no cost and no sacrifice. But this is a
rather cynical view of progress.
On the other hand, the emptiness could invite us to focus on an
easy to miss meaning of Easter. An old philosophical or scientific musing may
be helpful here. “If a tree were to fall on an island where there are no
human beings there, would there be a sound”? The answer is usually derived
subjectively in the sense that sound requires a listener to perceive and
without anyone, there is no sound. However, what of the objectivity of whatever
is produced when the tree fell, independent of a hearer? The answer can be
framed by another question that Einstein reputedly asked a contemporary
physicist: “Does the moon exist if nobody is looking at it?”.
If one were to be cynical, the empty churches can be interpreted
as testaments of failure. What is this celebration for since there is nobody
here? Does it not expose the futility of what we do?
Or better, we can assume a more focused and hopeful perspective.
The empty churches give us enough space and distance to concentrate, not on
ourselves but on what Christ the Lord has accomplished for us.
Some of these adjectives might describe us: indulgent, entitled
and self-focused. These descriptions are to be expected since many of us
inhabit a world in which just about everything we “consume” (not just food or
drink) can be personalised and customised. Just one’s typical “Grab food” order
is a good example. There are options which allow for a highly personalised customisation.
In fact, even for our spiritual consumption, one can watch a live-streamed Mass
15,000 km away because the “content” suits my tastes or preferences. Hence, it
is not surprising that our horizon is rather limitedly self-defined making us a
generation that asks this pivotal question: “What is in it for me?”.
Such a self-absorbed attitude can seep into our worship of God with a result
that faith and its practices become less essential of who we are except that
they are expressions of our preferences and can be reduced to a matter of
convenience.
The empty space or rather the absence of a congregation may give
us pause to pay closer attention to the single act of Christ’s self-sacrifice
in the astounding task of saving mankind. As the Exultet sings: He paid
the price of Adam’s sin. No one can do it except Him. Therefore, the Vigil
Mass is celebrated because it is the foundation of our faith in Christ who
alone bears the burden of salvation and also it is the articulation of our
gratitude to Him who by His obedience has ransomed back eternal life for all of
us. The emptiness does not indicate a meaningless celebration. Present or
absent of a congregation, this vigil is a celebration of the victory of THIS
one Man over Satan. Without or without people, victory belongs to Christ and eternal
life returned to us.
The MCO is set to continue and our churches will remain empty for
the immediate future. Will this absence be as an “out of sight, out of
mind” experience? Or hopefully, knowing the faith of our people, the
longer the separation, we pray that it be an “absence that will only make
the heart grow fonder”. Yes, nobody is here. But it is not a defeat
because by the Saviour’s death and resurrection, salvation has been won for
everyone. Rejoice. Alleluia.
