An Unconventional Easter

It’s Easter. We made it. It feels like Lent has been years long and unfortunately, it feels like Lent will continue on for an unforeseeable amount of time. I’ve had my sights set on Easter for the past month – it feels like we’ve arrived but have nowhere to go.

Catherine (my sister) and I put together Easter goodie bags filled with Easter eggs, candy, and notes. We spent hours of our quarantine time decorating the bags and writing heartfelt messages to our closest friends. On Saturday, we drove around Guilford County to secretly drop off the goodies. As we drove away, we texted our friends to check their mailboxes or their front porches. The text messages we got back when the friends found their bags were so sweet. It was so nice to find connection that way. We may have not been physically together this Holy Week but this way was an unconventional way to celebrate during unconventional times.

Worship, praise, and connection does not have to stop when following stay-at-home orders. As the resident seminarian in the house, I led my family in a Maundy Thursday and Good Friday service.

For Maundy Thursday, we entered the Upper Room and washed each others feet. Some churches will do a washing of the feet service but mine does not. It’s time consuming and for a large congregation, the intimacy of washing people’s feet does not translate well. When I told my family what we were going to do, they balked. It took some coaxing but I was able to convince them to let me lead them. For our service of five, it was quite touching. Emulating Jesus in this way made us approach the story in an unconventional way to see another part of the story. At a critical moment of the Passion story, Jesus was not thinking of himself and he took time to serve his disciples. In the hours before a betrayal and a trial, Jesus washed the disciples’ feet. It was customary during this time for the lowest servant to wash the guests’ feet. In a land of open sandals and sandy and dusty roads, the Master reversed the roles and took the place of the servant. Jesus’ entire ministry was about reversing expectations and raising the lowly. He was truly loving them until the end when he showed that through an act of radical servanthood.

In years past, my family and I have gone to and participated in a Tenebrae service at our church. A Service of Tenebrae, or Shadows, is based on twelfth-century late night service which is a mediation on the passion of Christ. As the scripture is read and the music sung and played, the room gets darker and darker until the Christ candle is extinguished and the organ descends into haunting and frightening music. This year, as the rest of world was sequestered away, the Camps sat in the dark and blew out candles as we read through the crucifixion of our Lord and Savior. We circled around the room taking turns to read so that each of us could participate in a way that I hope was meaningful for them. It felt very appropriate to sit in a dark room away from others when remembering that the early Christians, through history and some even today were not allowed to worship, even to the point of death. It is important to recognize our privilege when worshiping in the safety of our physical homes and on outward facing social media. Not all believers across all faiths are allowed such safety.

Another tradition that feels stolen was the ability to gather with extended family but the Camps persevered. All the aunts and uncles and cousins across the nation went outside to their fire pits, to their back porches and patios, or their apartment living rooms and tuned into a Zoom call. My very traditional family who communicates in handwritten thank you cards utilized technology in new ways to be together. It may not seem like a big deal to some but for us, we were able to see into my cousin’s Texan apartment, hear the ocean breeze at Topsail Island, hear the call of a baby in Atlanta, and feel the warmth of a fire in Greensboro.

Easter morning came after we all said our goodbyes and extinguished the bonfire. Easter morning came from empty tombs and empty sanctuaries to full houses and lit computer screens. The passing of the peace had to come through text messages. Communion had to be unconventional too. When you’re yearning for connection during an unconventional time, the question of whether laypeople can serve Communion doesn’t matter. You gather in the kitchen with your broken bagel and cranberry grape juice and you sing “Christ the Lord is Risen Today” because Christ the Lord is risen today! Would I have preferred singing the Hallelujah Chorus next to my friends and family in a full sanctuary? Absolutely. Did I cherish the moments of serenity in the kitchen with my immediate family? Absolutely. Jesus meets us where we are, even in a pandemic. Jesus has left the tomb but has not left the world.