Easter Vigil 2011 Come Awake Christ Has Risen !

The Resurrection of the Lord

Mass Readings for the Easter Vigil in The Holy Night of Easter are here

Gospel : Matthew 28 : 1-10

After the sabbath, as the first day of the  week was dawning,

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to  see the tomb.

And behold, there was a great earthquake;

for an angel of the Lord descended from  heaven,

approached, rolled back the stone, and sat  upon it.

His appearance was like lightning

and his clothing was white as snow.

The guards were shaken with fear of him

and became like dead men.

Then the angel said to the women in reply,

“Do not be afraid!

I know that you are seeking Jesus the  crucified.

He is not here, for he has been raised just  as he said.

Come and see the place where he lay.

Then go quickly and tell his disciples,

‘He has been raised from the dead,

and he is going before you to Galilee;

there you will see him.’

Behold, I have told you.”

Then they went away quickly from the tomb,

fearful yet overjoyed,

and ran to announce this to his disciples.

And behold, Jesus met them on their way and  greeted them.

They approached, embraced his feet, and did  him homage.

Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid.

Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee,

and there they will see me.”

 In Christ Alone

Matt Maher:  Come Awake


Benjamin Alire Sáenz

My mother woke us that Sunday – her voice

a bell proclaiming spring. We rose

diving into our clothes, newly bought.

We took turns standing before mirrors,

combing, staring at our new selves.

Sinless from forty days of desert,

sinless from good confessions, we

drove to church in a red pickup, bright

and red and waxed for the special

occasion. Clean, polished as apples,

the yellow-dressed girls in front

with Mom and Dad; the boys in back,

our hair blowing free in the warming

wind. Winter gone away. At Mass,

the choir singing loud: ragged

notes from ragged angel’s voices;

ancient hymns sung in crooked Latin.

The priest, white robed, raised his palms

toward God, opened his mouth in awe:

“Alleluia!” The unspoken word of Lent

let loose in flight. Alleluia and incense

rising, my mother wiping her tears

from words she’d heard; my brother and I

whispering names of statues lining

the walls of the church. Bells ringing,

Mass ending, we running to the truck,

shiny as shoes going dancing. Dad

driving us to see my grandmother. There,

at her house, I asked about the new word

I’d heard: resurrection. “Death,

death,” she said, her hands moving downward,

“the cross – that is death.” And then she

laughed: “The dead will rise.” Her upturned

palms moved skyward as she spoke. “The dead

will rise.” She moved her hands toward me,

wrapped my face with touches, and laughed again.

The dead will rise.


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