Amid the odd circumstances of this Easter, we’ve tried to keep our traditions. Streaming religious services isn’t the same as being there, but I’m grateful we’re at least able to do that.
We prayed a modified Stations of the Cross that became part scavenger hunt when the 7-year-old hung the fourteen photos randomly around the house. We made Resurrection eggs (search Pinterest for examples), baked Hot Cross Muffins (found here) and Paska bread, dyed eggs, and in place of the Easter flowers we usually buy, my daughter picked us a bouquet of violets. We’ll re-read a new favorite Easter book, The Other Side of Easter by Beth Gully.
It’s all lovely. But there’s a subtle undercurrent that something’s not right.
While watching our diocesan Good Friday service, I couldn’t help notice that amidst a barren altar, one object remained. It stood fixed in the background from every camera angle, there in the shadow of the cross.
A bottle of Purell.
The juxtaposition of bottled sanitizer and our Savior’s bloody death struck me. There was nothing sanitized about Jesus’s life or death. Birth in a stable, among the animals. Circumcision. Baptism in the Jordan River. Healing by laying hands on lepers, applying mud and spittle to a blind person, healing the woman with the hemorrhage, raising a dead and decaying Lazarus. And finally, His bloody crucifixion, where He was spat upon and had a lance thrust in His side.
From infancy, Jesus – the God of the universe – assumed and encountered all the frailties and messiness of humanity.
The Purell remains in the shadows this Easter. But only for a season. Because our Savior lives, and therefore, so may we.
Bonnets, Baskets, & Bunnies: An Easter 2020 Linkup! Click To Tweet
- Easter 2019 (Including a little Easter flash fiction featuring Marigold, the main character in “A Perfect Christmas” from Gifts: Visible & Invisible.)
- Easter 2018
- Easter 2017
- Easter 2016
- Easter 2015
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Carolyn, I agree something is not right. I am happy that all the Catholics I know stick to their Easter traditions, the baking, the egg decorating and as much of a liturgical life as one can get online. But something is very wrong, indeed. Our former pastor came from the Ukraine and remembers Easter under Communism. Easter services were prohibited. The church was watched by the secret police. The parish celebrated in a private home with people standing guard outside. They were risking imprisonment, concentration camp or death. Many bishops and priest were martyred. Today, our bishops are making us miss the Feast of feasts because of a small chance of catching a sickness that is described like this on the Seattle Health Department website : “Most people with mild coronavirus illness will recover on their own by drinking plenty of fluids, resting, and taking pain and fever medications. However, some cases develop pneumonia and require medical care or hospitalization.” When I compare this risk to the Ukrainians risking death under Communism, I feel ashamed. Even drive-in masses which bring the risk on infection down to non-existent, have been stopped in most places. Why? I remember St. John Paul II saying : Do not be afraid!
This is certainly unprecedented during our lifetimes in the United States. Everything about is unsettling.