It is Monday night. I am recovering after an amazing and exhausting holy weekend. Life always gets intense during holy week and despite my best efforts, I've never been able to maintain the calm discipline that carries me through lent. I think it is fitting. Holy week is a disruption. It is jarring, intense, wild and unpredictable. I'll try to retrace my steps a bit...
Good Friday: Far
This year for Good Friday we climbed to the top of Yosemite Falls -- with Eddie and Andrew. It was a 7.6 mile hike up a steep incline taking us half a mile up a steep granite trail. Ulrich carried Andrew on his back the whole way. I watched him bear the weight and thought about how Jesus suffered under the weight of his cross and wondered how steep the road to Golgotha was. The sun shone on us and the dust curled up around our feet. I thought about how Jesus thirsted in the heat of the day. As the sun set, it grew cold. I thought of the dark sky, the ripped curtain, the chilling last words that he spoke as he let his spirit go.
Pressing the body. Struggling with nature forces us to be present. While we climbed that steep, rocky path, my mind wasn't on my to-do list. It wasn't on what we would be doing later during the weekend. It wasn't even on what I might want to eat for dinner. When it was hard, the only thing you can think to do is stare down at your feet and put one in front of the other. "40 more minutes until you reach the top" Oh, my soul groaned. That's an eternity.
I remember that feeling during the birth of each of my boys. How would I make it another minute. I was so focused on making it through that time seemed to stop. In moments like that, when we are so present, so aware of each breath, each second, time slows down and we almost touch eternity. Jesus hung on that cross in moments that touched eternity. His soul groaned. And then.... it was finished.
Holy Saturday: Roots
We gathered in Davis at the church where Ulrich and I met. Where we got married. Where Eddie was baptized. We gathered with old friends and family. With strangers and acquaintances We gathered around a fire and the sun set. The pascal candle was lit which passed the flame to each of our candles. One to the next. Everyone's candle was lit but Andrew's. In his black Good Friday clothes, he waited for his turn.
We sat in a dark church and by candlelight listened to the stories of our faith. Creation. Abraham. Moses. Prophet Isaiah. Then, we sat in silence. In the darkness, we took Andrew to the water. We remembered God's promise in the water - to clean us, to free us, to re-create us. And Andrew laughed. His happy baby voice filled the silent church and the Spirit drew near to him. He was held by his God-parents and I watched as they brought him to the water. I looked at them and felt thankful that they will be there to guide him back to the water when I find myself on the opposite bank and cannot reach him. As he came up out of the water, his candle was lit. I prayed that the light would always burn in his life.
And as we remembered that we are baptized into the cross, so are we baptized into the resurrection. At that moment the church was filled with light and the sound of ringing. The stone was rolled away and we were the first witnesses to the empty tomb. Andrew dressed in his dazzling white christening suit brought an Easter lily to decorate the alter.
We shared the peace. Deep embraces reuniting me with old friends made me think about heaven and the joy of reuniting with all those who have passed, with our ancestors, with each child of God as one family. With God, breath, spirit, mystery. Joy. I don't understand it but in Easter there is promise and in faith there is hope and in Jesus there is grace and so I open my arms to receive the joy that washes over me.
Easter Sunday: Life
It was supposed to rain on Easter. I woke up and saw bright blue through the blinds and thought, " There was a 100% chance that Jesus was supposed to stay in the grave so I guess its not such a surprise that it is beautiful outside even when there was a 70% chance of rain." The house was silent. Everyone was still sleeping. I crept outside into the sunlight of Easter morning. I drew in a deep breath. The flowers bloomed. The grass green. My soul alive. The promise of Easter.
I got the boys dressed. We were running late but I sang in the car and as we walked in, I joined right in "Jesus Christ is Risen Today" always the first hymn sung on Easter morning. The only open seats were in the front row so we walked straight down the center aisle. The choir got up to sing. Eddie ran up on the alter to dance with them. I jumped up to get him. But, I wanted to dance with him so I took him to the back of the church and we danced.
The children were excused a few moments later for children's church. I joined them. We revisited the stations of the cross by placing a symbol of the passion story - a piece of bread, a coin, a nail, a cross -- into plastic eggs. We left the 12th egg empty.
The tomb was empty. Eddie was super into the story and wanted to learn what was in each of the eggs. I sat on the floor with Andrew and watched the kids. My Easter worship was seeing them all dressed in their Easter suits and dresses. Full of innocence and wonder. The promise of life ahead of them.
After church we gathered at my mother-in-law's house to watch basketball and eat food. It was comfortable -- like a country song. Ordinary wonderful life. We hide eggs in the backyard for Eddie. As he ran around gathering them up and putting them in his basket, I thought about egg hunts. Running around in the garden searching for new life. Face beaming with excitement with each egg that is found. He is risen indeed.
Post-Easter Reflections
Easter was beautiful. Deep and meaningful as it is every year. Full of pain and promise. Doubt and wonder. The letting go of discipline to embrace grace. Then, as always, I find myself on the other side a bit bewildered. Like the disciples in the upper room asking myself -- what now?
I don't know.
So I wait.
In due time, the Holy Spirit will come.
But for now I soak in the promise of the empty tomb.
