I am so wiped. The last day of the month and work was crazy. People are back in the swing of buying and selling houses, so I am busy at work. At the moment I am tired and brain dead.
But I haven’t had a chance to sit down and write about this past weekend, and I wanted to make sure that I at least said something before too much time passes and I don’t remember as much.
Last week was Holy Week. There were services every night, and while I didn’t go to every service, we did go as a family Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I mentioned the Wednesday service already.
Thursday: Bruce went to the liturgy in the morning and brought me at work some blessed bread. The evening service was the reading of the passion gospels. Christ is put on the cross. I was prepared with Kleenex as last year I had cried and expected I would again this year. Surprisingly, though, I didn’t. I don’t know why. It was still a powerful service.
Friday: I took the day off for Great and Holy Friday. I had worked the Western Good Friday so that I could have ours off. I baked paska, hot cross buns, regular bread, farmer sausage and ham. Bruce baked a cherry loaf. We fasted through the whole day – which was actually a lot easier than I thought it was going to be. The hard part was not trying all the food we were making – but we couldn’t eat most of it for the most part, anyway. We prepared the rest of our food for our Easter baskets and put the baskets on a table in our living room. We mostly followed the guidelines from Nichola T. Krause. I’m wondering if it was easier to fast because I was working so hard and didn’t have much time to think about eating.
In the evening we went to the service where Christ is taken off the cross and put in the tomb. Then there was the reading of the Psalms and Lamentations as a vigil. Bruce and I stayed and had brought the kids’ blankies and stuffies, so they crawled under the benches and fell asleep. We hadn’t signed up to do any of the reading/chanting, but were asked if we would do some. Bruce has been chanting some of his prayers at home, and just before we were asked I had suggested that he go up and give one of the readers a break. Because we both went up, and because he started with chanting, I tried chanting, too. It was really great. We both loved it. He chanted the Lamentations, and I chanted the Psalms. I don’t know how it sounded to someone who is actually musical, but since neither of us are musical, we really enjoyed it.
I was a little disappointed, however. Last year Bruce and I had each signed up for an hour slot. He took the first slot from 9 to 10 and I took 11 to midnight. I took the kids home and put them to bed, Bruce came home and then I went for my shift. Bruce said there were many people at the church while he was reading, and people would come up and relieve the chanters throughout the hour. And when I went at 11, there were still quite a few people sitting in the church, and there were people even when I left. This year everyone cleared out almost right after the service and hardly anyone stayed for the vigil. I thought we’d be prepared with the kids that we would be able to stay for a good chunk of the night. Well, we were the last ones to leave (aside from Father Bernard), but we left shortly after 11. And I think for the last 20 minutes or so of our chanting we were the only ones in the sanctuary. Not that I minded that nobody was listening to us. I was just disappointed that the vigil seemed to end so early.
Saturday: There was a liturgy in the morning which we went to. Then we came home and finished up the last of the preparations for our baskets. One of the kids’ friends came over and we decorated our eggs. We tried to get the kids to lay down for a nap (that didn’t happen. But they were quiet in their rooms for an hour while we laid down). And then there was the Paschal service which started at 11:30 p.m. I was worried that we would have to do the procession around the church inside because when we woke up in the morning, there was snow on the ground. Thankfully, the snow melted throughout the day, but the evening was cold enough that the ground wasn’t all mucky, and we went outside. Shaeleigh slept through almost the whole service, but Brendan only slept for about the first half, and then was up and awake for the rest of it. After the service, we all headed downstairs to have our baskets blessed and feast. Oh boy, did we feast. We have a friend who says he doesn’t need to come to the Paschal service because Mennonites know how to celebrate. I hate to say it, but I was Mennonite before, and while we sure did fellowship, it was nothing compared to the experience of Pascha. I wish he would come and see what he was missing.
This year it seemed as though I was able to participate more because I recognized the services. It was funny because last year Father Bernard said to me that that Pascha would be extra special, but it wasn’t really. This year was far better. Maybe because I have been in communion with the Orthodox Church through this last year. Or maybe because I am more familiar with Orthodox services. Or maybe because last year I was accepting of the Orthodox Church but hadn’t fully embraced it as my own yet, and this time I have. I don’t know. But whatever the reason, this year was much more meaningful than last year. And now I don’t know how we ever got by with Easter in the Protestant world. There is no comparison. And, you know, I would get so upset and bewildered when anyone Orthodox would say that to me when I was Protestant. So I hope nobody is offended. But the more I am immersed in the Orthodox culture and faith, the more I wonder, “WHY did it take me so long to get here?”
Sunday: There was a service at the Church at 3 p.m. where many people read the gospel in different languages, and then everyone was invited over to Father Bernard’s and Presbytera Linda’s place to continue celebrating the Resurrection. It was a good time, and I had a really good chat with one of the parish members. I was so tired, I wasn’t sure I would be very good company, so that visit was nice.
Post Pascha: Now I’m still trying to recover. I have eaten nothing but meat, cheese and eggs over the last few days. Well, there has been lots of bread, too, and the occasional vegetable sneaks in. But I haven’t felt the twinge of hunger since we feasted after the service Sunday morning. I miss that feeling. I’ve actually felt sick and bloated and kind of gross.
I’ve been saying through Lent that I think I’ve been missing the point. I haven’t done a rule of prayer more. I haven’t read more. I didn’t even do a spectacular fast. But I was talking with a co-worker yesterday and realized that maybe I didn’t miss the point of Lent entirely. This year I have come to realize that I sin. Oh, I don’t mean the symptoms of sin, but the sin which motivates me. I am full of pride. I am undisciplined. I am consumed with the cares of this world instead of being consumed with eternity. I have realized that even in the situations in my life where I thought I was the victim, I have a lot to be sorry for and need to repent and apologize. I’d like to think that I’m changing. Or at the very least, even if I’m not changing, I’ve become more aware of how far from the mark that I am. I used to think I was doing pretty good. I believed when people praised me with my relationship with God. Now it all feels like vain flattery. I realize the more I wanted before is nothing compared to the more I want now. And I also realize that I’m not sure many people in my life are going to understand and will think that I’m a little radical and going too far. It’s not too far, though. In fact, it’s not far enough. And I’m not even sure that I am able. Pray that I won’t give up and that God will show mercy on me. Thank you.
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