Bright Week
This is the name that my Orthodox brothers' traditions call Easter Week. For them it is the joyful end of their solemn season of Lent, which is observed more strictly and with greater devotion than I have ever known myself. On my sis-in-love's kitchen calendar, it is marked "FAST FROM OIL, MILK." This, while on many of winter's days, my family were comforting ourselves with huge pizzas and orzo tossed in sesame and olive oils. This year, I got to attend Pascha, the Great Easter Vigil with Ron and Wanette's family.
It is the biggest event of their year and after reading through Frederica Mathewes-Green's "Facing East," I knew that I was in for something special. Their service began at 10:30 pm. The celebratory feast was to begin at midnight. Families streamed in, each carrying a basket that corresponded to the size of their family. A single guy carried a basket that might hold a quart of berries. An Ethiopian family with 5 kids, brought a laundry-sized basket. The baskets were covered with white cloths. Because I'd seen Wanette pack hers, I knew that the baskets were filled with things they'd craved during Lent. In hers, pot roast, brie, Merlot, hot dogs for her kids. On the way over, my brother warned me, "I need to stop at the drive-thru. I want an Angus Burger, you want anything?" Others had huge loaves of bread, brightly iced cakes, cartons of Chick-Fil-A.
After we got seated, my brother went up to join the Reading of Scripture. Kind of a nonstop litany of Gospel readings chanted in turns. This plus the venerating, kissing and bowing and adoring icons. It was a religion-major's dream! One guy is reading prayers to himself in front of onen particular icon. This woman's slip is showing as she bows down, forehead to floor before the altar. I sat next to my little neice and passed her crayons while taking it all in. As the service began, my brother gave his seat to an elderly woman and for the remainder of the night never once took a seat. The evening was stunning. There was a procession, an a capella choir, incense, numerous priests with long Rasputin beards, and robings the likes of which a Catholic girl like me has never imagined! I know with every religious community there is inside-information, outside-information and the margin for the curious. Here, I stood on the thin line, understanding little but happy to be there. But then, after a week of travel, my joy to be there atrophied into discomfort, and flopped into impatience. It was so wonderful, the heady incense, the joy of chanting that death had been conquered! I was captivated but then, at around 1 am, my knees started to go weak and my eyes began to cross. I had hit the wall. An hour after it was scheduled to be done, they were still all standing and chanting the same thing. . . I wilted. I excused myself. Wanette patted me and kissed me for hanging in there. I drove myself back to the house, kicked off my shoes, and flopped into bed-- in Easter clothes. We had to be at our Easter Mass early, across town!
Geoff was the gentle reveille for all of us in the morning, changing sheets, prepping breakfast, packing the car. I, on the other hand, was as my eldest neice would say, weak sauce. The kind of tired I've only felt during horrible college lectures, and maybe a few times with a wakeful infant-- tired to the point of hostile and annoyed to the point of tears. The fatigue from that night has turned into the reason that this week was "bright" for me.
I have had these glorious naps, and would wake with this soft, toddleresque freshness. My other brother and his family drove 20 hours to surprise us all for Easter. They timed it perfectly so that during our Egg Hunt, all of us were heads-down and looking for eggs, they and their four kids file down the sidewalk casually. Completely surprised, we squealed giddily until our voices hurt. It was the reunion of the year! 19 cousins, 5 siblings and my parents' cup runneth over! Benicio and Manny played dodgeball and sardines and then slept the sleep of boy soldiers fighting the Confederates. When Clara awoke on Monday morning, she was disoriented and kept asking for her cousins.
Then this week, a friend brought Calliope to playgroup, leaving me with an empty house. I put in a load of laundry, drafted my paper, fell asleep on the couch, and awoke feeling like I could run a marathon. Never has Easter occurred to me so bodily-- to awaken and feel life so acutely. Praise God for the stillness of delicious sleep! Praise for the wakening!
It is the biggest event of their year and after reading through Frederica Mathewes-Green's "Facing East," I knew that I was in for something special. Their service began at 10:30 pm. The celebratory feast was to begin at midnight. Families streamed in, each carrying a basket that corresponded to the size of their family. A single guy carried a basket that might hold a quart of berries. An Ethiopian family with 5 kids, brought a laundry-sized basket. The baskets were covered with white cloths. Because I'd seen Wanette pack hers, I knew that the baskets were filled with things they'd craved during Lent. In hers, pot roast, brie, Merlot, hot dogs for her kids. On the way over, my brother warned me, "I need to stop at the drive-thru. I want an Angus Burger, you want anything?" Others had huge loaves of bread, brightly iced cakes, cartons of Chick-Fil-A.
After we got seated, my brother went up to join the Reading of Scripture. Kind of a nonstop litany of Gospel readings chanted in turns. This plus the venerating, kissing and bowing and adoring icons. It was a religion-major's dream! One guy is reading prayers to himself in front of onen particular icon. This woman's slip is showing as she bows down, forehead to floor before the altar. I sat next to my little neice and passed her crayons while taking it all in. As the service began, my brother gave his seat to an elderly woman and for the remainder of the night never once took a seat. The evening was stunning. There was a procession, an a capella choir, incense, numerous priests with long Rasputin beards, and robings the likes of which a Catholic girl like me has never imagined! I know with every religious community there is inside-information, outside-information and the margin for the curious. Here, I stood on the thin line, understanding little but happy to be there. But then, after a week of travel, my joy to be there atrophied into discomfort, and flopped into impatience. It was so wonderful, the heady incense, the joy of chanting that death had been conquered! I was captivated but then, at around 1 am, my knees started to go weak and my eyes began to cross. I had hit the wall. An hour after it was scheduled to be done, they were still all standing and chanting the same thing. . . I wilted. I excused myself. Wanette patted me and kissed me for hanging in there. I drove myself back to the house, kicked off my shoes, and flopped into bed-- in Easter clothes. We had to be at our Easter Mass early, across town!
Geoff was the gentle reveille for all of us in the morning, changing sheets, prepping breakfast, packing the car. I, on the other hand, was as my eldest neice would say, weak sauce. The kind of tired I've only felt during horrible college lectures, and maybe a few times with a wakeful infant-- tired to the point of hostile and annoyed to the point of tears. The fatigue from that night has turned into the reason that this week was "bright" for me.
I have had these glorious naps, and would wake with this soft, toddleresque freshness. My other brother and his family drove 20 hours to surprise us all for Easter. They timed it perfectly so that during our Egg Hunt, all of us were heads-down and looking for eggs, they and their four kids file down the sidewalk casually. Completely surprised, we squealed giddily until our voices hurt. It was the reunion of the year! 19 cousins, 5 siblings and my parents' cup runneth over! Benicio and Manny played dodgeball and sardines and then slept the sleep of boy soldiers fighting the Confederates. When Clara awoke on Monday morning, she was disoriented and kept asking for her cousins.
Then this week, a friend brought Calliope to playgroup, leaving me with an empty house. I put in a load of laundry, drafted my paper, fell asleep on the couch, and awoke feeling like I could run a marathon. Never has Easter occurred to me so bodily-- to awaken and feel life so acutely. Praise God for the stillness of delicious sleep! Praise for the wakening!
posted by Maria at
7:30 PM
3 Comments:
Why is it your descriptions seem like a better record than the photographs I take? You really capture it – the action and the feeling. Pictures are said to be worth a thousand words, so how is it that your slightly less than a thousand words is worth more than all the pictures we took of that weekend?
Honey, we just need a better camera;)
:)
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