Sunday, April 12, 2015

In the Bleak Mid-Easter



It’s still Easter! One thing I realized during Lent was that, even when I’m not observing it as well as I want, I’m very aware of it being Lent. I’m much less aware of Eastertide. It’s as if after the chocolate bunnies are gone, Easter’s over, but it’s an entire season too! Furthermore, today is Easter Sunday in the Orthodox calendar, so the season is just really getting started. 

I had a rough Lent and Easter Sunday. Between working endlessly on my 95-page thesis and experiencing spiritual satisfaction during Holy Week, I was happy to see the end of a season. But this one didn’t seem to be starting any better. Work took a busy turn at the end of the week, and then my neighbor left her wet clothes sitting in the machines for hours on the morning I had set aside for doing five loads of laundry.

On my walk to church (in my “clearly laundry day” clothes), I tried to talk myself out of my bad mood. I realized my urge to control everything made every little bump a jagged edge. That was my problem with my less-than-perfect Holy Week, and that was my problem with my less-than-perfect weekend. I needed to be more charitable; I needed to accept imperfection as a part of life. Easy to acknowledge, not so easy to do. I got to church and prayed the Chaplet of Divine Mercy, praying that I find peace and charity. Then I sit back and look at that rogue thread on the chair two rows ahead that I really, really want to cut off.

And then, of course, I’m reminded that it’s Divine Mercy Sunday. The homily is just what I needed to hear (even if I’m not suddenly more charitable or merciful). I’m aware of the connections and signs; I can sense God reaching out to me. But there are my own hang-ups and hesitations preventing me from reaching back. My lips say one thing, and my hands say another. I want to be overwhelmed, even though I know it’s not really about feelings. I want joy and excitement and fortitude. He is risen after all! But the good news (after the Good News) is that he is still risen; it’s still Easter. A couple of Sundays don’t make a season.

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