An Easter like no other
As I write this, it is the most glorious afternoon of the spring so far. The sun is casting a glow into the room where I sit at my computer. Chickadees and cardinals and mockingbirds chat outside. I hear them through the screen of an open window.
The only physical sign of the pandemic is the two masks on the kitchen countertop, sewn by my daughter’s soon-to-be mother-in-law, which arrived in the mail yesterday. One is a lovely design with my favorite colors, the other has a print of coffee beans.
I read and watch and listen, keeping up with the news. I call my friends and family, staying in close touch. I prop my elbows on my desk, put my head between my hands and stare down at the keyboard, searching for what to write.
My heart is breaking. I fear for the most vulnerable. We are all at risk. The reality of our mortality looms large before us.
It is so easy to forget we are mortal. Until it is no longer easy to forget we are mortal.
Holy Week 2020
Holy Week is upon us. Passover, just days away. Ramadan is near.
For the three Abrahamic faiths, these high holy days arrive in the midst of chaos and fear.
In “Coronavirus Will Change the World Permanently. Here’s How,” Amy Sullivan, director of strategy for Vote Common Good, writes:
“All faiths have dealt with the challenge of keeping faith alive under the adverse conditions of war or diaspora or persecution—but never all faiths at the same time.”
Easter— with no choir? No organ or guitar?
Easter — with no hugs or hands clasped and exclamations of "How you’ve grown!”
Easter — with no new shoes or bonnets or white lace gloves to show?
Easter — with no lilies, pungent, sending out their smell?
What is this Easter, then, without our gathered voices? Our hugs and handshakes? Our misty eyes singing Hallelujah?
This is an Easter to remind us, to remember and to pause.
Remembering the first Easter
That first day of resurrection started out with fear and isolation, disciples hunkered down, afraid, wondering what was happening, hope slipping from their grasp.
As John’s Gospel tells us, it is Mary who is brave, stepping through dawn darkness, heading to the tomb. She finds the stone removed and runs to tell the others. They all return to see. The men look in, astounded, then make their way back home. Mary stays and weeps. She sees two angels ask her, “Woman, why do you weep?” Through stinging tears she answers, “I know not where he is!”
Then she turns and sees him, thinking all is lost, asking of this “gardener,” "Do you know where he has gone?”
Jesus calls her, "Mary!" She exclaims with open arms.
He stops her, “Do not touch me!”
It is not time to touch.
She cannot hold his hand. She cannot embrace his body.
It is not the time.
Re-membering the church body during isolation
And now, for us, this Easter, it's also not the time.
In fear and isolation, we're hunkered down at home. Or, as essential workers, we set out to our jobs. Or, with our covered faces, we gather our supplies. The road ahead, uncertain, our future is unsure.
Chief Hospital Corpsman Dom Navarro, from Orange County, Calif., counts patient gowns in the medical ward aboard Military Sealift Command hospital ship USNS Mercy (T-AH-19) March 26. (U.S. Navy photo by Mass Communication Specialist 2nd Class Ryan M. Breeden. FEMA News Photo - Mar 26, 2020)
We are like the first disciples, fearful behind doors and masks, knowing not what coming days will bring.
We are like brave Mary, neither can we touch.
I cannot hug my daughter. I cannot grasp her hand. I cannot sing this Sunday, surrounded by the throng.
Yet, "Do not!" is not the last word. There is more to come. Jesus also says to her, "Go forth and tell them all my words!”
Mary cannot touch but she can share her news: “I have seen the Lord!” and “This is what he said!”
John’s Gospel tells us what transpires in the evening of this day. That day that Mary sees the Lord and runs back to share the word. As the sun sets in the west, the disciples shut and bolt the door, each one still afraid.
Although the doors are locked, Jesus suddenly appears.
“Peace be with you,” he says to them, “As God has sent me, so I send you now.”
The first Easter’s message for us in the midst of a pandemic
These are words for us as well, as scared as we may be. We cannot live as we once did, but we are told to tell, to tell the world the good news and the words that Jesus said.
We can call and text and video chat and Zoom. We can remember that first Easter like no other, that resurrection day.
As Jesus was sent to show the world the way of love, we are now God’s presence in this hurting world today. It is our calling to exclaim, death has not the last word now.
The last word is that of love, no greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for his friends. In days uncertain and in fear, may we reach out in love and peace. As we long for human touch from those who are not here, may we feel the warm embrace of the God who holds us close. Amen.
With permission, I share a hymn for this particular Easter by my friend Carolyn Winfrey Gillette:
This Easter celebration is not like ones we’ve known.
We pray in isolation, we sing the hymns alone.
We’re distant from our neighbors - from worship leaders, too.
No flowers grace the chancel to set a festive mood.
No gathered choirs are singing; no banners lead the way.
O God of love and promise, where’s joy this Easter Day?
With sanctuaries empty, may homes become the place
We ponder resurrection and celebrate your grace.
Our joy won’t come from worship that’s in a crowded room
But from the news of women who saw the empty tomb.
Our joy comes from disciples who ran with haste to see -
Who heard that Christ is risen, and then, by grace, believed.
In all the grief and suffering, may we remember well:
Christ suffered crucifixion and faced the powers of hell.
Each Easter bears the promise: Christ rose that glorious day!
Now nothing in creation can keep your love away.
We thank you that on Easter, your church is blessed to be
A scattered, faithful body that’s doing ministry.
In homes and in the places of help and healing, too,
We live the Easter message by gladly serving you.
“This Easter Celebration.” Copyright 2020 by Carolyn Winfrey Gillette. All rights reserved.
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