Easter 2026

Easter 2026
 By Matthew Fox

Easter is many things to many people, as are Passover and the crucifixion of Good Friday. That is the power of religious belief when it is not hardened into iron-clad dogmas, but is allowed to breathe. It speaks to us of universal longings, passions, and fears.

When its symbols are not owned by an ego consciousness and are applied to the whole, the community and communities to which we belong become regenerated.

Archetypes are a universal language; they speak to oneself and everyone if we allow them to.

The suffering signified by the cross, and Good Friday, is a profound archetype or universal symbol, for we all taste of suffering, evil, and injustice in our lives and societies. All who are weary and angry and torn apart by war after war and lie after lie and killing of innocents, such as is going on in Gaza, Ukraine, Iran, and Sudan today, have tasted of the crucifixion.

The resurrection is also a profound archetype or universal symbol and story that cannot—and ought not—go away. We need it to be our better selves and to carry on and remake our world and worlds, so they better mirror our deepest selves and surest yearnings—

our common quest for a beloved community or “kingdom/queendom of God,” where peace, justice, and beauty are alive and well, shining and shared.

A resurrection story can be distorted if it is presented exclusively as a promise of life after death and not seen for what it is: An invitation to rise daily from sadness, weariness, despair, depression, or nihilism in this lifetime.

Easter is an invitation to live fully now in love and for love while not being in denial about the multiple crucifixions that nail us to crosses on a daily basis.

“Rise” Katy Perry sings of returning and rising above defeat and despair.
Resurrection gives us a perspective by which to see the world and our role in it, our work and relationships and communities and citizenship, as an invitation to generosity and gratitude and reverence for our gratuitous existence.

An opportunity to share the goodness and beauty and grace that we have received from others, from our ancestors, including those more-than-human ancestors that have brought us here over a 13.8-billion-year journey. How grateful are we for the fireball and supernovas that birthed our sun and planets, and this special planet we call Mother Earth, our home?

It is a cosmic story, and Christians call it the “Paschal Mystery.” Jesus went through it in a most dramatic way in the gospel stories, but all beings, and surely all humans, undergo it.

It is a cosmic story and history as well as a personal one. It arouses immensity, intensity, and intimacy. When a supernova dies, it spews its elements into time and space, and from its death, new galaxies, planets, and beings are birthed. That is resurrection also.


The Last Supper story renders this immense happening that is both cosmic and intense in scope, especially intimate. What is more intimate than eating and drinking? This way we carry on life and resurrect still again and now.

Resurrection is a daily thing; we all rise from our tombs daily, tombs of fear and tombs of hurt. If we yield to the resurrection story, we learn not to project our fears and hurt onto others, but to join the spiral of life in a continuous unfolding and unveiling. Revelation and resurrection accompany one another. We become an Easter.