Today, Easter morning, my wife and I took a walk through a nearby forest preserve.  When we arrived at the high point of the trail, we stopped and looked.  We watched the sky, a budding crimson, hanging over the forest, its trees still naked and bare, the land barely green.  Then, precisely when we expected it to do so, the sun peeked over the hills and began spreading its rays across the water.  The geese continued to fly, the cranes continued to nest.  Squirrels scampered about.  And why not?  The night was over.  The day had begun.

    For many, and I think in particular about the people of Ukraine, the day seems very, very distant.  Night is everywhere.

    But in the end, the day will have its way.  Light will triumph over darkness.  What we will always find confounding--and glorious--about resurrection is the profound physicality of the deed:  that God, the living God, really did die.  As will we.  Yet God, the living God, really did rise from the dead. As will we.  It's nonsensical, it's unbelievable, it's unfathomable.

    But how can life, ever be the same?