Easter is reflecting upon suffering for one thing, but it also

In the profound and meditative words of Michael Leunig, the poet and philosopher of the human spirit, we find a reflection that pierces through the surface of ritual to touch the living heart of meaning: “Easter is reflecting upon suffering for one thing, but it also reflects upon Jesus and his non-compliance in the face of great authority where he holds to his truth — so there’s two stories there.” Within these lines lie both tenderness and courage. Leunig reminds us that Easter is not merely a remembrance of pain or resurrection — it is the union of two great truths: the acceptance of suffering as part of the human journey, and the unwavering commitment to truth in the face of oppression. One speaks of endurance; the other, of defiance. Together, they form the eternal rhythm of redemption — the stillness of sorrow giving birth to the flame of moral strength.

To understand the origin of this reflection, one must look to Leunig’s body of work and the soul of his homeland. An Australian artist and cartoonist, Michael Leunig has long been a spiritual voice disguised in simplicity — a prophet cloaked in whimsy. In a world often distracted by noise, his words draw the mind back to the essence of being: compassion, humility, and inner truth. When he speaks of Easter, he does not speak of theology alone, but of the human condition. He sees in the story of Christ not merely the divine, but the deeply human struggle — the pain of injustice, the loneliness of conviction, and the quiet power of remaining true to one’s conscience when the world demands surrender. For Leunig, Easter’s message is not confined to churches or calendars; it is a timeless meditation on suffering and integrity, played out again and again in the lives of those who dare to live with principle.

In his quote, Leunig reveals two stories that dwell within the Easter narrative. The first is that of suffering — the agony of betrayal, the weight of the cross, the silence of the tomb. This story speaks to the universal pain of humanity: the loss, the grief, the seasons of despair that visit every soul. Yet he calls it “reflecting,” not lamenting — for suffering, when faced with awareness, becomes a mirror. It shows us who we are beneath all illusions. The second story is one of non-compliance, the refusal to bow before unjust power. Jesus, in Leunig’s telling, is not merely a victim but a rebel of truth, one who, even under the shadow of empire and authority, remains steadfast in conscience. Thus, Easter is not only about the endurance of pain, but about the moral bravery to live — and die — by truth.

Such courage has echoed through the centuries, embodied in those who, like Christ, refused to yield to falsehood. Consider Socrates, who stood before the judges of Athens accused of corrupting the youth and defying tradition. Offered the chance to recant and save his life, he chose death instead, saying that “the unexamined life is not worth living.” Like Jesus, he drank the cup of suffering rather than betray the truth within. Or recall Martin Luther King Jr., who faced the might of governments and hatred, yet remained unmoved in his call for justice. Both men lived the second story of Easter — non-compliance in the face of authority, fidelity to conscience even when the cost was great. Their suffering did not destroy them; it transfigured them, turning pain into light for future generations.

The meaning of Leunig’s insight, then, is this: Easter is not only a tale to be remembered; it is a truth to be lived. Every human heart must, at some point, walk its own Via Dolorosa — its road of trial and sorrow. But within each of us also lies the divine spark of resistance, the capacity to stand firm in truth even when surrounded by darkness. These two threads — suffering and courage — are woven together in the tapestry of human growth. For it is suffering that refines the soul, and truth that gives it purpose. Without suffering, there is no depth; without truth, there is no direction. Easter, therefore, is the remembrance of the union of these two — the crucifixion of the flesh and the resurrection of the spirit.

Leunig’s words also invite us to reflect on the paradox of gentleness and strength. Christ, the lamb of peace, was also the lion of moral defiance. His love was not weakness, but an unyielding power that disarmed violence through compassion. In the same way, those who walk in truth must carry both tenderness and resolve. To reflect upon suffering is to open the heart to empathy; to stand firm against tyranny is to guard that empathy from being crushed. True faith, Leunig suggests, is born where these meet — where mercy and conviction dwell together, like the cross and the empty tomb.

The lesson we draw from Leunig’s meditation is one of balance and courage. When life brings suffering, do not flee from it; let it teach you compassion. When injustice commands your silence, do not comply; hold to your truth, even if the world condemns you for it. Easter is the call to live with both humility and courage — to bear the wounds of existence without losing faith, and to stand against false authority without losing love. This is the secret of resurrection: that through suffering rightly understood, the human soul is not destroyed but reborn.

So let the voice of Michael Leunig be as an elder’s whisper to all who listen with the heart: there are two stories in every life — the story of what the world does to you, and the story of how you respond. Suffering is inevitable; compliance is a choice. If you would live as Christ lived, as all the great souls have lived, then meet your pain with grace and meet your oppressors with truth. For in doing so, you do not merely remember Easter — you become its living witness, carrying within yourself the eternal promise that love and truth will rise again, even from the darkest tomb.