I celebrated my birthday two or three weeks ago. Although this one is not terribly important, it snuck up on me, and by the time I realized it was coming, there it was. After some treats and well-wishes from friends and family, the day was over for another year. Don’t get me wrong; I don’t have a problem getting older, and I’m looking forward to many more birthdays before I’m called home. But after having a few birthdays, they just aren’t so exciting anymore. My mind is occupied with the day-to-day activities of career and family life, and special occasions no longer hold the pride of place that they once did.

Now, my daughter, on the other hand, is celebrating her birthday in a few days, and this has taken up a considerable amount of mental bandwidth for several months. Since her sixth birthday in fact, she has been thinking about what she will do for her seventh. When my older daughter turned nine, it was a reminder to my younger daughter that she was halfway back to her birthday. When the new year came, it was “almost” her birthday. Finally, it is now her birthday month. This day occupies her mind, and it will. Not. Arrive.

It’s fun for me to watch her anticipate her birthday in a way that I haven’t in literal decades. She and her sister have similar reactions to holidays like Christmas, Thanksgiving, and vacations (“Dad, when does school get out?!”), and the end of vacations (“Dad, when do we go back to school?!”). All are met with the same joy and excitement. I enjoy holidays, vacations, and the ends of vacations, as well, but the years go by faster than they used to. Each year is a relatively smaller and smaller percentage of my whole lifetime, and there isn’t time anymore to look ahead and anticipate.

This is true but for one exception – Easter. Easter is coming! We will celebrate the greatest event in all of human history: our Lord and Savior will rise from the tomb. Death will be defeated, and the gates of Heaven will be opened to us if we choose to enter. (Dare I utter an early Allelu…? No. I dare not.) Because before he can rise from the tomb, he must enter the tomb. Before he can enter the tomb, he must suffer and die. And before this, we must fall asleep in the garden while he begs to be spared. And before this, he must institute the Eucharist, the priesthood, and the order of bishops, and share a meal with us one last time. And we must welcome him into Jerusalem before abandoning him to be nailed to a tree.

The rhythm of Holy Week and the Triduum is beautiful. It slows the passage of time. It focuses the mind on all that lies between us now and the triumphant final act. We have an advantage over the first disciples; we know the end of the story: Jesus wins, and we share in that victory. But we must sit with all that happened before. There is no jumping to the end. We must get through the Passion to reach the Resurrection. I am forced to put away the regular rhythm and concentrate on what is happening now.

My daughter knows that her birthday will bring good things, and she cannot help but be excited. I know that Easter will bring Good things, and I cannot help but be excited. And we can’t wait. But we must wait! What a gift from the Church, that for a week out of the year, I get to feel that child-like anticipation once again. I’m forced into some semblance of patience until I receive that greatest of all gifts. Together, my family and I can “wait in joyful hope.”

AUTHOR: Bill Cyr, Middle School Math & Science Teacher