Lessons from the Great Fifty Days of Easter

Lessons from the Great Fifty Days of Easter

Langley at Grace Church in NYC with an Easter Parade

"I looked and saw a nurse, dressed all in white, standing by a bed in the makeshift ICU. "Why do you seek the living among the dead?" she asked, pulling back the curtain to reveal an empty bed. Confused, I turned and walked outside, leaving the hospital as if it were a tomb, and stepped into the streets." 

There were hundreds of people there, laughing and talking, strolling hand in hand, children playing in the parks, and hugging one another as they met on busy sidewalks. The shops were full. The streets were full. The city was overflowing with the sounds of life, joyous and unending, beneath a clear, sunny sky. I stood transfixed. Then I remembered: it was Easter Day!—Steven Charleston's Facebook Page, Easter 2020.

In case you did not see Bishop Charleston's previous Easter Facebook Page, here it is! He tells us what the resurrection of our state, country, and world will look like. He constantly reminds us to look fear in the eye and shows us what hope looks like. Reread the resurrection stories of Jesus. So often, he says, "Fear not. Do not be afraid; Peace be with you." 

Not being afraid means knowing that God is beside us and cares for us. God walks beside us today so that we, again this year, can bring the joy of Easter out of our churches. The Easter Parade is a reminder of a movement into our streets, shops, and workplaces to share the good news.

Customs and traditions can also help us remember God's love as God walks with us, especially during a joyous holiday such as Easter. My granddaughter Zoe and I have a custom of watching the movie Easter Parade on Holy Saturday. Later, on an Easter Day after lunch, I watched Easter Parade with our oldest granddaughter, Langley, who had never seen it. That night, she showed me pictures of that day's Easter Parade in New York City. It was very different from the past, but still joyous. 

Last Easter, Langley, who is now in school in New York, sent us a picture of the Easter parade at her church in the city. A tradition celebrated even when we are apart.

We need traditions to remind us of life and love from the past. We also live in the present and carry traditions forward to keep remembering. Customs can be as simple as watching a movie with people you love. Traditions help us remember a time of God's love and promise. Sometimes, we can enjoy the experience even more in our memories.

The joy of the great fifty days of Easter is an ideal time to celebrate family traditions and memories of love.

Chanting as an Offering

Chant Exsultet Easter

chanting at the Easter Vigil

“Chant calls us out of chronological time, in which ‘now’ can never be located, and into the eternal now, which is not really found in time.” —David Steindl-Rast in The Music of Silence: Entering the Sacred Space of Monastic Experience (HarperOne, 1995).

David Steindl-Rast reminds us that when we use this ancient voice of praise and prayer to God, we stand in the presence of ancient angel choirs. We change the way we address God and each other. The words become notes. The message we chant sounds different. The chant itself is soothing and comforting. 

The music takes us to another place and another time. The sounds open our world to a new dimension. Chanting slows the words of the message. The squirrels running in the cage in our heads slow down and grow quieter. Sometimes, time seems to stand still, and we feel at peace. We are home.

The chant that deacons most often sing is the Exsultet, which is sung after the newly lit Christ candle is brought back into the church at the Easter Vigil. This music becomes part of my body long before Lent begins, even if I am not the deacon designated to sing this lengthy Canticle.

Jason Pennington, the music director at one of my previous churches, describes the Exsultet as “one of the most difficult chants in the Church’s treasury of song, sung at the opening of the Great Vigil. It is the culmination of the events of the Holy Triduum, as the congregation holds their candles in the shadow of the one Paschal Candle. The choir, not yet allowed into the stalls, stands in the nave with the faithful as that most beautiful of Canticles is intoned, promising us all the immeasurable gift of salvation.” 

I keep a note from Jason from our last Easter together, when I began experiencing more mobility issues and standing for a long time became more difficult.

“She endured excruciating physical pain to stand for the lengthy Canticle, drawing each breath to acclaim its message of life. She paced it well, taking her time and savoring every phrase as if it were the very first. This was a beautiful gift of ministry, a Holy Spirit gift that put ministry before self. And isn’t that exactly the lesson to be learned at the Mandatum not two nights before: ‘I give you a new commandment, that you should love one another.’ Joanna’s lovely, quiet chanting voice trembled with pain yet was filled with joy. This was Easter.”

I keep Jason’s note as a reminder for me and others that chanting is always an offering, never a performance.

Joanna. https://www.joannaseibert.com/

 

 

Earth Day Again

Earth Day Again

DOK Western Missouri

“Oh, Earth, you’re too wonderful for anyone to realize you. Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it—every, every minute?”— Thornton Wilder, Our Town.

Emily speaks these memorable lines in the play Our Town after she returns to earth for one day in Grover’s Corners following her young, untimely death at age twenty-six. In the Thornton Wilder play, she chooses to revisit her twelfth birthday and soon returns to her grave—when she can no longer bear watching the people she loves barely interact with one another. They seem unable to appreciate the joy and wonder of each new day together, and fail to see the Christ in one another.

Emily in Our Town

I am reminded of a past Earth Day when I listened to music about the earth, such as Beethoven’s Sixth Pastoral Symphony, as we traveled from a reunion in Virginia to the Gulf Coast. Hearing this symphony immediately brings back memories of our four years in Iowa City. The music served as the backdrop for a visual production of Iowa’s outdoors called Iowa, A Place to Grow, a reminder to bloom where we were planted and to appreciate the beauty of the earth and the people of that state.

I remember the first Earth Day in 1970. It was the day my husband of six months left for Vietnam for a year. I was pregnant with our first child and felt sorry for myself. I spent the day watching the Earth Day celebration on our small black-and-white television and stripping the wax from our kitchen floor. I knew I had to channel the energy generated by Robert’s departure into something useful. I wish I could write here that I planted trees, but my kitchen floor was as far as I got. 

I do remember one Earth Day trip when we drove through a gentle rain. The car radio played American composer Alan Hovhaness’s tribute to a beloved tree on his uncle’s farm that was struck by lightning, “Under the Ancient Maple Tree.” The best I could do that day was enjoy the ride, give thanks for the rain, and be grateful for the bountiful green trees keeping us alive along Interstate 85. Today, that Earth Day, feels even more meaningful because lightning recently struck a tree in our backyard, so close to our house. We hope to care for that tree, knowing it took a hit for us.

I wish I could say I participated in extraordinary events to care for and thank our Earth, especially its trees, on the other fifty-five Earth Days since that first one. Still, I honestly cannot remember many Earth Days.

I think of my father, a forester who led hundreds of expeditions to plant pine seedlings. I remember, on trips, how he often pointed out the tall trees he had planted. Now, many years later, I thank him for his plantings. I know he would be proud of our daughter, Joanna. She also has a master’s degree in forestry, taught wilderness classes at the University of Montana, and is a master outdoors lover.

From my father and daughter, I have learned that our environment, the outdoors, and especially trees, keep us grounded in the present moment. I think Emily in Our Town speaks to this present moment, where we learn to appreciate each precious gift of time, especially time with those we love.

My experience is that I live most consciously in the present moment when I am outdoors, seeing the trees and plants. I realize that something more significant is happening than the past and future, with which I am so preoccupied.

I am reminded of Parker Palmer’s thoughts that, as trees photosynthesize light into chemical energy, they also photosynthesize, transforming our energy when we are outdoors.

On a recent Earth Day, we drove through northwest Arkansas and western Missouri to meet with more than fifty Daughters of the King from the Diocese of Western Missouri. The trees, especially the cedars, along with the rolling hills, creeks, and bridges, were stunning, as were these extraordinary women. We talked a lot about living in the present, and we experienced it that day as well.

C. S. Lewis, so many others, and now Emily all remind us that the present moment, not the past or the future, is where we meet and recognize God in ourselves, in each other, and in nature. Caring for and being in nature is one of the best ways to know the Creator, the God of Love.

I hope that if we can live as much as possible in the present moment, savor it, and let love be our guide, we may be able to overcome our social and warring unrest better than before.

Joanna. Joannaseibert.com https://www.joannaseibert.com/