Christ is Risen! Indeed, He is Risen!
Today, my beloved in Christ, we stand not at the grave of a dead teacher, not before the tomb of a fallen prophet, and not at the end of some moral philosophy. We stand before the empty tomb of the Living God. Death has been conquered, the grave has been shattered, and the ancient tyranny of sin has been undone. The Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ is not an allegory, not a metaphor, not an invention of the weak-minded, but the central and unshakable fact of human history. If Christ is not risen, then all our faith is in vain, and we are the most pitiable of all people. But as the Apostle proclaims, “But in fact Christ has been raised from the dead, the first fruits of those who have died.” (1 Corinthians 15:20)
Last night, as we stood in the darkened church holding our unlit candles, we were no different from the world before Christ — surrounded by shadows, bound by the silence of the grave, held captive under the yoke of sin and death. And then, the light of the Paschal flame was passed from hand to hand, and the darkness could not resist it. This is not theatre; this is a revelation of what has been done for us and for the whole world. The tomb has lost its prey. “Why do you look for the living among the dead? He is not here, but has risen.” (Luke 24:5) The angels announced it; the apostles bore witness to it; the martyrs died confessing it; and the Church stands upon it.
Do not be deceived, brethren, by the world which surrounds us — a world steeped in arrogance, a world that mocks the Resurrection as though it were a myth spun from the minds of frightened peasants. The modern world, intoxicated by its technology, seduced by its own machinery, praises its intellect as if the towers of Babel had been rebuilt and completed. It scoffs at the empty tomb, it sneers at the Risen Christ, and it scorns the hope of eternal life. It dresses this scorn in the garments of science, philosophy, and so-called progress. It builds museums and universities and calls them temples, and it fills them not with truth, but with the lies of materialism and human self-worship.
This world glorifies death even while it pretends to fear it. It builds industries around death — it markets abortion as health, it peddles euthanasia as compassion, it celebrates the withering away of the soul in its addiction to wealth, power, and pleasure. And all the while it dresses its corruption in fine words: “liberty,” “choice,” “autonomy,” and “dignity.” But strip away the costumes, and the world stands naked before the grave, a grave which it cannot escape. The world denies the Resurrection not because it has evidence against it, but because it cannot bear the thought that death has lost its dominion. If Christ is risen, then the world must repent, and the world will not repent.
The world fears the Resurrection because it exposes the futility of its idols. If Christ is risen, then Caesar is dethroned. If Christ is risen, then wealth, status, and pleasure stand condemned as the distractions of fools. If Christ is risen, then the fleeting kingdoms of this age are nothing but sandcastles before the tide. The Resurrection does not fit into the world’s narrative of self-importance, self-determination, and self-glorification. And so the world does what it has always done: it mocks what it cannot understand and slanders what it cannot control. Modern man, drunk on his own pride, imagines that the Resurrection is a fable for children, a relic of the past for the simple-minded. He builds cathedrals of steel and glass and calls them cities. He studies the stars and believes he has mastered the heavens. He probes the atom and believes he has understood the building blocks of life. But when he stands at the side of an open grave, all his theories turn to ash. Death remains, and it will not negotiate with him.
The Resurrection is not dependent on man’s belief. Truth is not shaken by the rejection of the arrogant. Christ did not rise because men accepted Him; He rose whether they believed or not. The stone was rolled away, not to let Christ out, but to let the apostles see. The empty tomb stands as the eternal rebuke to the self-assured wisdom of this fallen world. We believe not because it suits our feelings, nor because it gives comfort to the weak, but because the apostles saw Him, touched Him, ate with Him after the Resurrection. St. John writes, “That which we have seen and heard we proclaim also to you.” (1 John 1:3) The apostles did not stake their lives on a myth. They staked them on what their eyes had seen and their hands had handled. Their blood sealed their testimony.
The Resurrection is not a private comfort. It is the turning point of history. It is the triumph of Christ over sin, death, and hell. It is the pledge of your own resurrection, if you remain faithful. The world can mock it, deny it, or ignore it, but its mockery is empty noise. Christ is risen, and the world’s laughter will one day fall silent before His Judgment Seat.
Let the world cling to its illusions. Let the sons of this age parade their scepticism. Their laughter is short-lived. The Resurrection stands — fixed, unmovable, eternal — the first light of the new creation, the defeat of death, and the unassailable foundation of our faith.
St. Paul writes with iron clarity, cutting through all human excuses and evasions: “For as all die in Adam, so all will be made alive in Christ.” (1 Corinthians 15:22) These are not the words of a poet seeking to comfort, nor the musings of a philosopher lost in speculation. This is a statement of fact — as cold and unyielding as the stone of a tomb. In Adam, all die. Not some. Not most. All. The rebellion of one man dragged down the whole human race. His disobedience to God was not an error, not a slip, but an act of defiance. He chose to turn his face from his Creator and so the world was plunged into the darkness of sin and death. From that hour, death has stalked every man, woman, and child born into this world. Death does not ask permission. Death is not the peaceful passing that modern sentimentalism would have us believe. It is not the quiet companion the world tries to domesticate. It is the great and terrible tyrant. Death is the price of sin. St. Paul declares it without ambiguity: “For the wages of sin is death.” (Romans 6:23) Just as a labourer receives his due wage at the end of the day, so every man receives his due — and the payment is death.
And mark this well: death is not natural. The modern world tries to baptise death, to call it part of the ‘circle of life’ or the ‘natural order.’ This is a lie. Death is an intruder. Death was not part of God’s creation, for when God beheld His works, He pronounced them “very good.” (Genesis 1:31) Death entered only after man’s rebellion, and it entered not as a process but as a punishment. However, the story does not end with Adam. God, in His mercy and righteousness, did not abandon mankind to the grave. He sent His Son, the Second Adam, Jesus Christ, who took on the same flesh that had fallen and carried it into battle against the very enemy that had enslaved it. Christ did not send an angel to fight death. He did not command death from a distance. He met death face to face, clothed in human nature. He bore our sins and tasted death in our place. And how did He defeat it? Not by divine decree. Not by sheer display of power. He entered into death willingly. He laid down His life freely: “No one takes it from me, but I lay it down of my own accord.” (John 10:18) He submitted to the grave, but the grave could not hold Him. Death devoured Him, but could not digest Him. The uncorrupted One shattered the bonds of corruption from the inside. He destroyed death not with weapons forged by men, but with His own death.
This is why the Cross, the symbol of Roman execution and imperial terror, has become the banner of victory for the Church. Christ did not avoid the Cross. He embraced it. He did not retreat from the tomb. He descended into it. As was foretold: “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one experience corruption.” (Psalm 16:10) He entered the grave as a conqueror disguised as a victim. He passed through death, and in doing so He stripped it of its power. And now, in Christ, all will be made alive. This is not the revival of the old man, not the resuscitation of the flesh as it was under Adam’s curse, but the beginning of new and incorruptible life. Just as the fall of Adam spread death to all mankind, so the Resurrection of Christ plants the seed of life into all who are joined to Him through baptism, faith, and obedience.
The enemy is defeated, the grave is emptied, and the tombstone rolled away not by the hand of man, but by the hand of God. The Cross has become the Tree of Life. The grave, once the ironclad fortress of the devil, is now the open gate of the Kingdom. Death, the last enemy, has been destroyed not by human strength but by the dying and rising of the Son of God.
The Cross was His weapon, and His Resurrection is His victory. The Cross, that brutal instrument of humiliation, has become the sceptre of the King. What the world saw as defeat was, in truth, conquest. As the Apostle says, “He disarmed the rulers and authorities and made a public example of them, triumphing over them in it.” (Colossians 2:15) On the Cross, Christ laid waste to the powers of darkness. He bore the full weight of sin, and in that final hour declared, “It is finished.” (John 19:30) He did not say, I am finished. He said, It is finished — the curse, the reign of death, the tyranny of the devil. And when His lifeless body was laid in the tomb, the earth itself trembled, because the King was not conquered — He had descended to conquer.
As the Psalm says, “You will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one experience corruption.” (Psalm 16:10) These are not words of wishful thinking but a prophecy fulfilled with unshakable certainty. The Lord entered the domain of the dead, but death could not defile Him. The Eternal Word, the Second Person of the Holy Trinity, wrapped in human flesh, descended into Hades not as a captive, but as a conqueror.
The iron gates were rent from their hinges, the bars shattered, the locks broken. The dark dominion that had held humanity in terror since the fall of Adam shook to its foundations at the arrival of the Immortal One. Hades was stripped bare. The grave stood plundered. The Lord of Life passed through its gates, and the prisoners heard His voice. As the Church sings, “Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life.” This is no poet’s flourish. This is the fact of history. This is the true Pascha. The old Passover, kept by the children of Israel, delivered them from Egypt, that house of slavery, and led them through the Red Sea to the Promised Land. But this new Pascha is greater. This is the Passover not from one country to another, but from death to life, from corruption to incorruption, from bondage to freedom, from the dominion of Satan to the Kingdom of God. This is the Exodus of mankind, led not by Moses, but by Christ Himself, the Lamb who was slain and who lives forevermore.
And what does this mean for us? It means everything. This is not a feast for the stomach, for painted eggs, for sweet breads, and polite handshakes. It is not a feast of sentiment, of soft emotions and seasonal piety. It is a feast of life from the dead. It is the proclamation that the grave is no longer the end, that death no longer speaks the last word. As St. John Chrysostom preached so many centuries ago, his words thundering down through the ages: no one is left out of this victory. The doors of the banquet hall are flung wide open. Whether you have kept the fast with strictness or arrived with empty hands, whether you laboured from the first hour or slumbered until the eleventh, the Risen Lord calls all to His table. The grace of the Resurrection is offered freely, because the price has already been paid in full by the Blood of Christ.
However, we must bear in mind that this is no excuse for idleness or indifference. Grace is not licence. Mercy is not indulgence. The empty tomb is not an invitation to return to the filth of sin but a summons to repentance and holiness. The Resurrection is the dawn of new life, not the validation of the old one. If Christ is risen, then sin must die. If Christ is risen, then the Christian must rise from his spiritual grave, cast off the old man, and walk in the newness of life, as the Apostle commands: “Therefore we have been buried with him by baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, so we too might walk in newness of life.” (Romans 6:4)
The feast is not for the careless. It is not a yearly ritual to be observed and then forgotten. The Resurrection is the foundation of all Christian life. If you confess that Christ is risen, then your life must bear the marks of that confession: prayer, fasting, almsgiving, forgiveness, humility, and the constant struggle against the passions. For as surely as Christ is risen from the dead, He will come again to judge the living and the dead, and His Kingdom will have no end.
Christ’s Resurrection is the cornerstone of the Church, the cause of our hope, and the pledge of our own rising. Without it, the Church is nothing but a hollow shell, an empty husk, another human institution decaying under the weight of the world’s corruption. If Christ is not risen, then the Gospel is a lie, the Apostles are false witnesses, and your faith is in vain — as St. Paul says bluntly, “If Christ has not been raised, your faith is futile and you are still in your sins.” (1 Corinthians 15:17) But Christ is risen — and this fact stands at the centre of all we believe, all we confess, all we suffer, and all we hope.
The Resurrection is not a decoration upon the faith. It is the foundation stone, without which the whole house collapses. It is not a comforting story, but the very oxygen of the Church’s life. The martyrs did not endure the sword, the cross, the fire, and the wild beasts for the sake of an idea or a philosophy. They faced death without flinching because they knew that death itself had been conquered by the One who rose on the third day. The Resurrection is the Church’s living heart, the cause of our hope, and the promise that our own graves will one day stand empty. If we die with Him, we shall also live with Him. This is the Christian inheritance, this is the unbreakable word of the Lord. St. Paul does not deal in soft assurances or poetic sentiment when he writes, but in hard certainty: “Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death?.” (Romans 6:3) This is not a metaphor, and it is not a ritual gesture. Baptism is not the outward symbol of an inner choice. It is not the religious equivalent of joining a club. Baptism is death. The old man, born in Adam, burdened with sin, enslaved to the passions, is drowned in those waters. And if that old man is not left in the grave, then baptism was nothing but a bath.
If the old man has truly died, then the new man must rise. This is the logic of the Resurrection. Christ did not rise from the dead so that men could remain as they were. He rose so that mankind could be recreated, refashioned, remade in His own likeness. Baptism is the first death, and the Resurrection is the first life. The water is the grave, and the font is the tomb from which the new man emerges, clothed not in mortal flesh alone, but in the righteousness of Christ. As St. Paul teaches further: “So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” (Romans 6:11) Therefore, if we have been joined to Christ, we must no longer live as slaves of sin. There is no compromise. There is no middle ground. One cannot serve the risen Christ and remain in bondage to the old master. The old man must stay in the grave, and if he tries to rise, he must be struck down again by repentance, by confession, by fasting, by prayer, and by the cutting off of the passions. A Christian who lives as if Christ has not risen, lives as if he himself has not been baptised. He lives as if the Cross and the Tomb were empty of meaning, as if sin still reigns and death still rules. However, we know that Christ is risen. The tomb is empty. The old world has passed away. The new world has dawned, and the new man must walk in that light. St. Paul said, “So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!” (2 Corinthians 5:17) We are no longer citizens of this dying world but heirs of the Kingdom which cannot be shaken.
This is the call of Pascha — not to return to old sins, but to rise to new life. Not to carry the rotting corpse of the old man upon our backs, but to cast him off and walk, upright and unashamed, in the light of the risen Lord. The Resurrection is the pledge and the proof that death does not have the final word — but neither does sin. The Christian life is the life of the Risen Christ in us. Let us then walk as those who know the end of the story — death defeated, Christ triumphant.
Do not let this world lull you back to sleep, as if Pascha were just another day on the calendar, something to observe once a year with flowers, candles, and outward ceremony, only to return the next morning to the same sins, the same indifference, the same godless routine. Pascha is not a holiday. It is the very heartbeat of the Church. The Resurrection of Christ is not seasonal. It is not tied to the cycle of spring, nor to the traditions of human custom. It is the condition of the Church’s existence, the air we breathe, the light by which we see, the very reason the Church stands at all.
Every Divine Liturgy is Pascha. When the priest lifts up the Lamb and declares, “The Holy Things for the holy,” it is Pascha. When the faithful receive the Body and Blood of the Risen Christ, it is Pascha. When the Gospel is read, when the Creed is confessed, when the doxology is chanted, the Church stands before the empty tomb. The Liturgy is not a memorial for the dead, it is the banquet of the living Christ, the marriage supper of the Lamb. The altar is the Mount of Olives; the chalice is the cup of immortality. Every Divine Service, from Vespers to Matins, from Compline to Akathist, is rooted in the victory of the empty tomb. We do not gather as those left behind to mourn a fallen leader, but as those who worship a living and reigning King. Every prayer uttered by Christian lips is addressed to the living Christ. Every prostration is made before the throne of the risen and glorified Son of God. Every candle lit is a testimony that the darkness is defeated. Every icon kissed is a declaration that the Word has become flesh, has died, and has risen again, and that this flesh is sanctified, not discarded. The Resurrection is not the ending of the Gospel, it is the foundation upon which the whole life of the Church is built.
And the Resurrection is also the judgment of the world. Do not imagine it is some private comfort for the pious. The empty tomb is not up for debate. It stands as the eternal verdict upon the whole world. The Resurrection forces a choice upon every soul: either Christ is risen, or He is not. There is no third way, no neutral ground, no safe distance from this fact. If Christ is risen, the world must repent, must turn from its idolatry, its violence, its corruption, and its rebellion. If He is not, then all is lost, the Apostles are liars, the martyrs are fools, and we are still dead in our sins.
Christ is risen! This is the fixed point upon which all creation turns. Time itself has been divided. The old world, the world ruled by sin and death, was ended the moment the stone rolled away from that tomb. The new world began in Christ — a world where death is defeated, where life reigns, where mercy is poured out like an inexhaustible flood, and where the devil’s dominion has been broken. The only question left for you, brothers and sisters, is this: in which world will you live? “He who is not with me is against me, and he who does not gather with me scatters.” (Luke 11:23) The Resurrection demands loyalty, not half-hearted observance. The one who will not bow before the Risen Lord now will be bowed down under the unbearable weight of his own sins when the Lord returns to judge the living and the dead. That day will not wait upon your convenience. The trumpet will sound, the tombs will be opened, and every eye will see Him. The only safety is to stand with Christ now, to confess Him now, to live as a citizen of His Kingdom now.
The modern churches — those hollowed-out shells draped in the tattered robes of once-living tradition — have reduced Christ to a mere ethical teacher, a wandering moralist, a harmless sage fit for classrooms and children’s books. They have stripped the Gospel of its power and gutted the Resurrection of its reality, treating it as a myth, a metaphor, a comforting fable for the weak-minded who cannot face the so-called “facts” of the grave. They light their candles not for the Living Christ but for a corpse. They sing hymns to a memory, not to a King. Their altars are bare of life, their prayers float no higher than the ceiling, and their sacraments, if they dare to speak the word, are empty vessels. But we — the One Holy Church — we do not gather to mourn the dead. We serve a Living Christ. We stand before the Throne of the One who trampled death by death. We eat His Body and drink His Blood, as He Himself commanded: “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day.” (John 6:54) This is not allegory. This is not symbol. This is the terrible and unshakable promise of the Risen One. The same Body that hung upon the Cross, the same Blood that flowed from His side, are given to the faithful at every Liturgy. And those who receive them with fear and faith do not taste death — they pass through it, into life eternal.
Let the world tremble, let the devils shriek from the abyss, let the kings and presidents and global merchants write their decrees and boast of their power. Christ is risen, and death lies stripped bare. The grave is plundered. Hades is in ruins. The Church stands unshaken, not because of her clever bishops or her costly vestments, not because of stone cathedrals or academic credentials, but because the Crucified and Risen Christ is her Head. And this Head cannot be decapitated, cannot be overthrown, cannot be bought, and cannot be silenced.
Let the Ecumenical Patriarch bow and scrape before earthly thrones like a courtier drunk on his own relevance. Let the Pope preach the gospel of globalist unity and ecological salvation, reducing the Cross to a prop for his politics. Let the hirelings, the wolves in cassocks, scatter the sheep and sell the faith for thirty pieces of modern silver. The Lord remains the same. The Church remains the same. “Jesus Christ is the same yesterday and today and forever.” (Hebrews 13:8)
The empty tomb has settled the question for all time. The Resurrection is the fact against which all lies shatter. The world will pass away, its rulers will pass away, its heresies will pass away, its empires will fall and its ideologies will rot, but the risen Christ stands forever. And the Church, His Bride, will stand with Him, bloodied perhaps, slandered certainly, persecuted without doubt — but unbroken.
Let the world make peace with death if it dares, but let the Church proclaim life, now and unto the ages of ages.
So, my beloved brethren, let this day — this holy and radiant Pascha — be not the end of a season but the beginning of a life worthy of the Risen Christ. Let it not be a day that passes like smoke, like the world’s hollow festivals, but a dividing line — the hour when you finally cast aside all compromise, all half-measures, all entanglements with sin, all the dead habits and excuses which chain the soul to the earth. Christ has not risen so that you may remain the same. He did not shatter the gates of Hades so that you might wander back inside like a fool returning to his vomit. The tomb is empty. The path is clear. There is no turning back. You have seen the light of the Resurrection. You have heard the Gospel. You have tasted the immortal and life-giving Mysteries. You have been baptised into His death and raised in His life. Do not return to the grave. Do not return to the world which lies in the power of the Evil One. Do not let your confession today turn to silence tomorrow. The Risen Christ does not ask for part of your heart — He demands all of it. There is no room for divided loyalties, no room for Christ and Mammon, no room for Christ and comfort, no room for Christ and your own self-will. The Cross is not an ornament; it is your path. The Resurrection is not an event to remember; it is the life you must now live.
Stand firm, as the Apostle commands: “Therefore, my beloved, be steadfast, immovable, always excelling in the work of the Lord, because you know that in the Lord your labour is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:58) The world will tell you it is in vain. The world will mock, scorn, and tempt you back to sleep. Let it howl. The empty tomb stands as the pledge that all is not in vain. Every tear shed for Christ is counted. Every struggle against sin is seen. Every prayer, every fast, every good work done in the name of the Risen Lord is written in the Book of Life. The labour of the faithful is never wasted, because the One for whom you labour is not dead. Christ is Risen, and the Church marches on, from victory unto victory, until the day when He returns in glory, and the last trumpet sounds, and the dead are raised incorruptible. Be ready for that day. Let no one find you slumbering when the Bridegroom comes. Fill your lamps with oil. Clothe yourselves in the light of the Resurrection, and walk as children of the day. The night is far gone. The Day has dawned.
Christ is Risen! Indeed, He is Risen! Let this be your banner in life, your comfort in death, and your song unto ages of ages. Amen.
May God bless you +
Fr. Charles
Pascha
20 April 2025
