by Bryan M. Cones

Birth and death lie at the heart of what it means to be human, and we human beings surround those moments with rituals and celebrations of all kinds. We wait with expectant mothers through doctor’s appointments and mark the time to birth with baby showers and nervous anticipation. We gather at the time of labor in both apprehension and excitement, sharing stories of other births, to remember and perhaps to distract, as we wait for that moment of joy.

We wait, too, with the dying, remembering times both good and bad as we keep vigil through the physical pain of illness and the sorrow of inevitable parting. And we gather around our loved ones in their final moments, when we begin rituals of both mourning and celebration. And through the years that follow, we keep the days of both deaths and births, remembering those who shaped us and celebrating those who walk with us still.

Seen through the eyes of Christian faith, however, birth and death are more than the beginning and ending points on the line of our earthly journey. In the light of the gospel, they are moments in our journey to God. They are our personal share in Christ’s paschal mystery of birth, life, death, and rebirth into the reign of God. But unlike our many separate birthdays and death anniversaries, we Christians share one rebirth–day — Easter — and a single glorious celebration of our paschal journey, the Easter Vigil.

The Light of Christ
The Easter Vigil service begins, like birth, in darkness. As the sun sets on our Holy Saturday vigil with the entombed Christ, something unexpected happens: Instead of a funeral, the darkness of the tomb finds a challenge. A fire is lit in the darkness, and the faces of those gathered to mourn reflect its light. One great candle marked with the cross is blessed and lit: "Christ, yesterday and today, the beginning and the ending. To Christ belongs all time and all the ages; to Christ belongs glory and dominion now and forever." In one moment, the power of death is undone.

"The light of Christ," sings the minister. "Thanks be to God," we sing in reply. As the Christ-light shines, it also spreads to the candles of the baptized, who share Christ’s victory over death. What began as a vigil for the dead has been transformed; it has become a celebration of life, a celebration of all who have passed through the cross to new life and a hopeful waiting for those yet to be born in Christ.

In joy we sing the Exsultet (see page 16), our hymn of victory, a great thanksgiving for deliverance from death: "Rejoice, now, all heavenly powers! Sing, choirs of angels! Exult, all creation around God’s throne!" Having walked the 40 days of Lent, recalled the betrayal and death of Christ, waited in the silence of death, we now finally hear the good news: "Christ has conquered! Glory fills you! Darkness vanishes forever!" Not content to listen, we must respond: "This is the night!"

Stories of Salvation
After this burst of joy, we settle down — and wait. Both births and deaths take time, as anyone who has sat in a hospital waiting room knows, and, like all families, we have a story to tell as we await the watery death and rebirth of those to be baptized this night. And so we start at the beginning: "Let there be light!" We hear of creation’s birth, of the sun and moon and stars, of land and sea and the great sea monsters, of creeping things and cattle, and finally of human beings. "God saw everything that had been made, and indeed, it was very good."

So begins a cycle of readings and songs and prayers of praise and thanksgiving. After the story of creation’s birth we hear of its death and renewal in the great flood, a sign of the waters that will soon both drown and restore those to be baptized. We recall the faith of Abraham and his chilling willingness to sacrifice his son Isaac before he learned that such sacrifice was not God’s will — though God did not spare God’s own Son. We rejoice with Israel on the banks of the Red Sea and sing Miriam’s praise: "Sing to the LORD, who has triumphed gloriously; horse and rider have been thrown into the sea." Israel’s exodus is our exodus, too, for in the sea of baptism, sin’s power over us is broken.

Then our story takes a turn. The prophet Isaiah speaks of a faithful God who will feed and satisfy, who offers mercy and salvation not just to a chosen people but to all: "Everyone who thirsts, come to the waters!" Holy Wisdom encourages us to abandon foolishness and follow God’s ways. "Come," she says, "eat of my bread and drink the wine I have mixed," a feast we share each Sunday, and which those to be baptized will share tonight. Ezekiel looks forward to a time when God will give the chosen people a new heart and a new spirit, when the "dry bones" of the dead will live once more. We hear God’s call through the prophet Zephaniah: "I will bring you home," shouts the God of Israel. We remember God’s mercy to Nineveh in the time of Jonah, and finally of the deliverance of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego from the fiery furnace prepared by King Nebuchadnezzar.

Our story at last comes to its climax. Now we hear the apostle Paul speak of death and birth: "We have been buried with Christ by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life." In joy we respond with another victory song: the "alleluia" from which we have fasted during Lent, or with a resounding "Glory to God in the highest." Standing with joy and thanksgiving, bathed in the light of Christ, we hear the resolution of our story: the Gospel account of Christ’s resurrection.

New People of God
At last we come to the heart of our celebration. This is the night — of both death and birth, of the destruction of sin’s power over us and our re-creation in Christ. As families gather for both deaths and births, so we gather our whole family. Remembering with a litany the saints of every age, we accompany those to be baptized to the font. There both the very young and the very old stand around the water: creation’s chaos controlled by God’s command; Noah’s flood, washing away corruption to make way for the new; the Red Sea, path from slavery to sin, and from death to glorious freedom. Those to be baptized have heard God calling; they have welcomed the Holy Spirit into their hearts. They are hungry for the promised feast, ready to surrender their dry bones and stony hearts for the new flesh and spirit of those reborn in Christ.

Here, as Christians have done for thousands of years, we gather with those who will enter the mystery of death and resurrection. We pledge to support them on the way of Christ. We hear them reject sin and all that rebels against God. We receive their profession of faith in the triune God and in Christ’s saving death and resurrection. We recall and affirm our own baptism, and we bless God over the water for all the great works of salvation: "Pour out your Holy Spirit, the power of your living Word, that those who are washed in the waters of baptism may be given new life."

Finally we rejoice as, one by one, those to be baptized enter the flood, there to die with Christ and rise again, freed from evil’s power and reborn into the assembly of the saints: "You belong to Christ, in whom you have been baptized. Alleluia!" we shout. Anointed with the seal of the Holy Spirit, they are clothed in the white garment of the baptized, "the garment of salvation, the robe of righteousness" described by the prophet Isaiah. Then our newborn sisters and brothers receive their own Christ-light. Now they are "neophytes," the "new lights" of the people of God.

Until the End of the Age
Our celebration would be incomplete, of course, without the family meal that seals our unity in Christ. For the first time the neophytes take their place at Holy Wisdom’s table. Here with thanks and praise we share the meal that makes us one: Christ’s body, the bread for our journey to the reign of God; Christ’s blood, our pledge to offer ourselves as Christ did. Sustained and enlivened, we go forth to live as members of God’s family: preaching the gospel, offering praise and thanksgiving for all the world, living as servants of the poor, the forgotten, the rejected, and the stranger.

The Great Vigil is echoed throughout Easter Day in morning services, joyful eucharists, and evening prayers. After all, a celebration of eternal life needs more than a few hours! Indeed, the Vigil is only the beginning of our 50-day celebration of salvation in Christ. Over seven weeks and seven Sundays we remember the witness of the early church and renew its vision for our own time. We recall the doubts of those first believers, for their doubt lives in us still. We remember Christ’s mercy even for the one who betrayed him and so learn that our betrayals will be met with mercy, too. We stand in wonder with the Twelve as the Risen One is taken from their sight; like them we hold fast to Christ’s promise to be with us "until the end of the age."

When the 50th day arrives — the feast of Pentecost — we rejoice in the gift of the Holy Spirit, alive in the measure of God’s presence we received in baptism, ready to be Christ’s presence in the "time after Pentecost" of our everyday lives.

To see Bryan Cones’s April 2006 article on the journey of Holy Week, go to www.lutheranwomantoday.org/back/06issues/0406article3.html.