there is so much more to easter

My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews: but now is my kingdom not from hence (john 18.36).

It was in the beginning of my discontent. I do not remember what year it was, sometime in the early to mid-80s, I would say. LDS General Conference fell on Easter weekend. During the Sunday sessions, only passing mention was made of the importance of the day. I remember sitting there thinking: “What the heck?” Hardly fifteen minutes could pass without remembrance of and pledges of allegiance to the living prophet, but hardly one word in remembrance of the Savior or commemoration of the momentous event 2000 years earlier.
 
I don’t know how it was for you during 2023’s Easter sacrament service, but my ward made a valiant effort to commemorate Easter as the day deserves—and as it has deserved for the past two thousand years. There was much more music. That was good. Our ward has some mighty fine voices that delivered some mighty fine musical texts. And if you are interested in things like congregational engagement, music is fundamental.
 
Then there were the Scripture readings. Without commentary. Marvelous. Why scripture readings without commentary are not part of every service is one of the great mysteries of Mormonism, or Latter-day Saintism, if you prefer.
 
There was less of the spoken word. Hallelujah! We could use a lot less of the spoken word in sacrament services. Whether it’s because the “speakers” lack the skill to keep the congregation engaged, or because the congregation lacks the ability to remain engaged, I don’t know. But congregational engagement during the spoken word is pathetic—no better than about 20% of the adults being engaged at any given moment. Either way, more of less spoken word would be much appreciated.
 
I will admit, however, that my appreciation for the service was tempered a bit when the final, and lone speaker openly confessed that the extra effort in conducting a more meaningful Easter service was the result of some supposed latter-day prophetic insight that Easter is actually important. I mean, come on! The importance of Easter has been blindingly obvious to any discerning believer for the past 2000 years. It ought not to require some latter-day prophetic revelation to understand the importance of Easter. The fact that the “Saints” required a latter-day prophetic oracle announcing the importance of Easter and “approval” for a more meaningful Easter service serves as sad reminder of the deep spiritual malaise that afflicts Latter-day Saintism. I mean its members can’t think or act on their own, but wait for direction that is rightfully theirs to obtain.
 
Still, though it was but a tiny step in the right direction, my ward gave it their all. Of course, those who planned the service still couldn’t bring themselves to fully acknowledge and embrace Jesus’ cross, the violence he suffered there, his violent death, or the revelation that the cross presents of the pervasiveness of human violence. Now, I understand that Easter is the day of the Lord’s resurrection and that on that day we want to celebrate both the fact of his resurrection and the implication of our own resurrection. But because we LDS folk do not do any Holy Week celebration, including Good Friday services, a Mormon Easter must pull double duty. It must address both life and death, resurrection and crucifixion. To commemorate Jesus’ rise from death without recalling his torturous death is like remembering someone’s rescue without mention of what it was they were rescued from.
 
“Did you know that Charles was rescued?”
 
“Why, no! What happened? What was he rescued from?”
 
“Oh, don’t bother with that. Just be glad he was rescued?”
 
Talk about an incomplete story!
 
I have discussed in previous homilies and meditations the foolishness of the Mormon aversion to the cross. But perhaps I have not discussed, as befits the subject, the cross and the revelation of human violence that it represents—especially violence committed against vulnerable and, often, innocent individuals. I will take this opportunity in this meditation to briefly touch upon that revelation. It is, perhaps, human violence—especially that committed against the vulnerable and innocent—and our willing complicity in it that keeps us from truthfully examining the cross and acknowledging the tremendous revelation it represents concerning the vileness of human violence. It is perhaps our complicity in violence against the vulnerable and innocent that keeps Jesus’ death and cross out of Mormon theology and Easter services.
 
First, for a definition. We use the word, “violence,” to indicate any force—either physical, emotional, or verbal—that is used to inflict harm, damage, injury, or death upon another. The practitioner of violence is nearly always in some way superior to his target—the legislator or jurist with his ability to influence legislation or manipulate law, the wealthy using his money to appeal to the greed of others and influence attitudes and policies, the thief with his gun and the element of surprise it brings, the physical and emotional abuser with his superior physical strength or lack of empathy, etc. By the same token, the target of violence is nearly always possesses some pre-existing vulnerability to the perpetrator of violence.
 
According to the Gospel record, it was very early on in Jesus’ earthly ministry that he revealed his conclusion about and his attitude toward violence (Mt. 5.38-41). While the entire world, “civilized” and “uncivilized” alike, accepted and lived, as it does today, by the rule of “eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth,” Jesus rejected it: “I say unto you, that ye resist not evil”—read “violence.”
 
In offering his critique of human violence, he presented what were then three common examples of human violence (being smitten on the cheek, being sued in court, and being forced to carry a soldier’s baggage), and suggested shockingly passive responses to that violence. The passive responses were to serve two purposes. First, the responses kept the violated from engaging in violence themselves and thus contributing to an ever-expanding spiral of violence. Just as importantly, the passive responses, it was hoped, would serve as revelation to the violator. The passive response would force the violator to have an honest look at the violence they perpetrated rather than the violence that came boomeranging back upon them. This revelation might lead to repentance and so less violence.
 
These examples remind us that the disciple is always to serve, first, not just as gospel messenger but as gospel message itself. The disciple is to sacrifice themselves, even their lives if necessary, in order to reveal the gospel to others and expand its influence. They are to live peaceable and exemplify the rejection of violence so that others might learn from them and follow their example.
 
None of this is easy, as Jesus himself best exemplifies. Nevertheless, Jesus practiced what he preached. He sensed well in advance how his life would end. He warned his clueless disciples repeatedly that he “must go unto Jerusalem, and suffer many things of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed” (Mt. 16.21). Nevertheless, when the time came, his disciples, exemplified by Peter, were prepared to use violent means to stop his unjust arrest and the violence that was being perpetrated against him. Jesus, however, would have none of it.
 
“Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword. Thinkest thou that I cannot now pray to my Father, and he shall presently give me more than twelve legions of angels? But how then shall the scriptures be fulfilled, that thus it must be?” (Mt. 26.50-54)
 
What “must be” was not simply his atoning death. It was his death absent his own violent resistance. He would not, could not violently resist lest he contribute to and propagate the false logic of violence. Heaven would not, could not violently resist lest it contribute to and propagate the false logic of violence. Jesus’ submission to the cross was intended as revelation of human violence, especially as perpetrated against the innocent, and the necessity for the people of God to reject that violence.
 
Only a few hours after rejecting the disciples’ use of force and violence, Jesus was once more under necessity of preaching and living his non-violent rejection of violence as he stood before Rome’s agent, Pilate. Hearing rumors, Pilate sought to understand if Jesus truly thought of himself as a king and, if so, what kind of king he imagined himself to be and what kind of kingdom he envisioned. Jesus answered, 
 
“My kingdom is not of this world: if my kingdom were of this world, then would my servants fight, that I should not be delivered to the Jews: but now is my kingdom not from hence” (see Jn. 18.33-37).
 
Now, one can imagine any number of descriptions that Jesus might have given of his kingship and kingdom. But he settled on this one. “My kingdom does not use violence as the kingdoms of this world do.” Again, this serves to remind us that his own violent death was to reveal the senselessness of violence.
 
If Jesus thought to transform Pilate and deliver himself from his violent death through this instruction, he was disappointed. Jesus died as violent and grotesque a death as the kingdoms of this world had devised. In suffering the cross, Jesus revealed to the world how utterly serious he was when he had taught his disciples in the Sermon on the Mount that they not “resist evil.” In addition, the cross became a symbol of this world’s violence, especially its violence against vulnerable and innocent victims.
 
This revelation concerning violence has to be part of Easter celebrations—if not in the days leading up to Easter, then on Easter itself. The world needs this revelation. American Christianity needs this revelation. Mormonism needs this revelation. The Christian Easter, like the Jewish Passover with which it is historically so intimately connected, is the time above all other times to consider the violence we do. For example, American Christians might have used Easter 2023 to reconsider and repent of the current wave of ugly and vile violence that they are perpetrating against the LGBQT community. It might have used Easter to reconsider and repent of its historic and ongoing violence against African Americans. It might have used Easter to reconsider and repent of its growing anti-Semitic violence against American Jews.
 
This reconsideration and repentance is not easy. It requires honest introspection. It requires an honest look at the world we have created. It requires, as Jesus exemplified, self-sacrifice, often painful and humiliating. And it begins with Jesus’ revelation on and from the cross.
 
But, alas, at least among the Mormons with whom I associate, Easter passed without a true look at all its meanings and revelations. Another Easter passed without a truthful look at the violence we do or the call that Jesus issued from the cross that we repent of it ourselves and act as the kind of revelation to others that is necessary for their repentance. Perhaps next year, as Jews say in concluding Passover. Perhaps during Easter 2024, we can add this to the enhanced music, the added scripture readings, and the reduced spoken word of Easter 2023—all a good first step in what looks to be a very long journey.
 
Even so, come, Lord Jesus!