Some years ago there was a campaign to put Christ back into Christmas, and to a lesser extent into Easter. The Infant Jesus in the crib and the Risen Jesus were being overwhelmed by Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. That battle has been lost. Christmas and Easter have become secular celebrations in society, though with a sizeable minority recognizing their religious significance.
The important question raised now by Easter is whether the meanings of Australian Easter, and indeed those available to our secular society, have the depth needed to handle our present predicaments.
In our culture Easter celebrates the benignity of the ordinary. It is a time for getting together with family, for going away to bush or beach, and in southern states a time of mild weather ideal for watching big football matches and other sport. Easter reassures us that all is well with the world and will continue to be well. In the great Australian phrase, she’ll be right, mate. There is no crisis to face, no need to do anything dramatic, we can keep on steady as she goes. We can trust in entropy and in technological solutions to all problems that therefore need not affect our lives. We can be assured that coming Easters will require as little of us as this Easter. The sea is flat, storms are manageable, and the journey safe.
If that description of the Australian Easter is accurate the shape of the emerging election campaign is exactly calibrated to match it. Both parties are a one in assuring us that life can continue as at present with gifts from the government to smooth over bumps, reliance on mining to provide economic growth, and no need for aid to people who are disadvantaged, or for changes in policy that might disadvantage the highly advantaged. Like Easter, election time promises to be party time.
We shall be very fortunate indeed if the assumptions on which the flat Australian Easter and the steady as she goes election campaign rest are based in reality. That, however, seems increasingly unlikely. We may face a series of interlocking crises that will force us to choose between an increasingly dystopian future and radical social change to mitigate its harm.
'In its beginnings Easter was not a celebration of the continuity of good times but of the happy disruption of bad times. Life and hope flared out from where death and darkness had reigned.'
The last few years have provided a glimpse of that future, of the change necessary to avoid it, and of the huge change in attitudes and behaviour that such change will entail. The coronavirus dispelled the trust in an increasingly disease-free future, exposed the growing inequality in society intensified by the response to the virus, and also showed the power of science and technology to help deal with the crisis when harnessed to wise governance. But the social change necessary to deal with change has been avoided.
The greatest challenge to continuity between our past and our future lies in climate change. In Australia and elsewhere we have seen a glimpse of the future in extreme climate events such as floods, heatwaves, rising sea levels and bushfires. These will become more frequent even if we moderate global warming. The latest report of the Intergovernmental panel on climate change acknowledges the part played by technology in moderating the rise of emissions, but emphasises the need for systemic and world-wide change to hold global warming at a less than catastrophic level.
Attempts to moderate global warming are also vulnerable to the division of the world into hostile blocs as a result of the Ukraine war. Nations committed to reduce emissions through fossil fuels are now increasing the mining and export of those fuels to compensate for disruptions to world trade as a result of sanctions. The focus on war and on the demands of security threaten the undivided attention necessary to respond to the environmental crisis.
Finally the growing inequality of society and political polarisation make it difficult for politicians to recognise, still less respond to, the need for radical change.
This suggests that the flat approach to Easter as the assurance of the normal will be inadequate to deal with our situation. An adequate response requires that we recognise the precariousness of our predicament and nourish a hope that gives energy for radical change. That is the vision underlying the Christian understanding of Easter.
In its beginnings Easter was not a celebration of the continuity of good times but of the happy disruption of bad times. Life and hope flared out from where death and darkness had reigned. Easter represented the victory of life over death, of victory over a crushing defeat, connection over isolation, freedom over captivity and hope over despair. It is an exuberant feast in which the overflow of joy is measured by the depths of grief that preceded it. In the Christian churches Easter Sunday follows Good Friday which focuses on Christ’s torture and execution. It represents the hope that speaks to the experience of the loss of everything at the personal, national or universal level.
The temptation for Christians is to smooth over the extremes of Easter. If we underplay the depth of darkness with which the light of Easter contrasts, we finish with a beige feast. Small pain, small gain. Seen from God’s perspective the story of Easter represents God’s salvation of humanity through Jesus’ rejection, humiliation and dehumanising execution, all leading to his rising to life. The Scriptures variously describe this as being taken out of death into life, from slavery into freedom, from sin to forgiveness, and from despair into joy. In each of these images early Christians measured the astounding and exuberant joy of Jesus’ rising by the horrific story of his death. The extent of our salvation is matched to the equally dramatic extent of our need. If we pass lightly over the reality of human sinfulness and the extent of our need, we also minimise the extraordinary gift of salvation, so domesticating the scope of God’s promises. A small human need and a sanitised crucifixion lead to restrained happiness at the minor victory that was won at Easter and little energy for change.
The extremes of Easter speak to our times. This year has revealed the depth of our need as persons and as a human community. The inadequacy of our response to climate change and other crises speak to the need for a salvation greater than technology and business as usual can provide. They demand a united human response where communities and nations come together to act for the common good.
To make this response we need a hope based on a realistic estimate of the crisis we face. Easter Sunday invites us to ask where we shall find that such a hope in the face of the things that make for despair. The Australian Easter is too shallow to provide it. It invites us to ask where else we might find it in a secular society?
Andrew Hamilton is consulting editor of Eureka Street, and writer at Jesuit Social Services.
Main image: Chocolate Easter bunnies in a row. (Betsie Van der Meer / Getty Images)