Easter Vigil

I had predicted that the Easter Vigil service Saturday evening would be about two hours long. As it turned out, it started around 7:30 pm, and we got out around 9:15 or so.

Not too far off.

I was serving as Lay Reader (which means I read the Epistle, Rom 6:3-11; and was on of four who served the wine during communion), so I wanted to get to the Cathedral early. I got there a few minutes after 7. Somehow, I was able to be of service to a couple of people before service began.

Also gathering early were people to be baptized, confirmed, reaffirmed, or received (from other denominations). A mother and her three sons were gathered in the courtyard. The mother, Shelly, was being confirmed. She asked me to take their picture. Which I was happy to do. After that, she asked for advice twice before service. Guess I earned some brownie points by helping her.

I kept looking for June, who was reaffirming. Reaffirmation is often a way to acknowledge a spiritual renewal within oneself. There are other reasons, and I'm not sure what June's reason was. I'd had the chance to visit with her a few times before, and enjoy her company. Not necessarily looking for or expecting romance, but I can always use another friend.

In any case, June got there about ten minutes before the service began. She was dressed in scrubs. June is an RN in a Palliative Care unit at a local hospital, so I assumed she was rushing in from her shift. I gave her a sideways hug, and mentioned my assumption. No, she said. Her cat had bitten her hard enough to require a tetanus shot. She had actually dressed in her Easter best, but it had been spoiled by blood. She'd gone to the ER for the tetanus shot, and borrowed the scrubs from the ER nurse.

"Thanks for the hug," she said, "I really needed that." Then she asked me to remove the plastic ID tag around her wrist. I've never been able to break one with my bare hands, so I went to the vesting room to get some scissors or a knife.

She followed me. The door was closed, so I knocked and asked for scissors. At which point, June started crying. Luke, one of the ministers, took her in his arms, and she retold her tale through her tears.

She went to the ladies' room to compose herself.

Then the ministers and acolytes and choir were off.

The Easter Vigil is one of my favorite services. On Maundy Thursday, all the lights had been extinguished and the sanctuary candle had been removed. So, the church is dark. The ministers proceed in silence. The officiant recites a prayer over a bed of coals, which are ignited; the Paschal Candle is lit from this. That bier of flames in the dark church is quite impressive.

The officiant, who was Luke, sings the Exultet, which begins "Rejoice now, heavenly hosts and choirs of angels."

This song is followed by the Holy History. A number of lessons are possible, primarily from the Old Testament, recounting God's relationship with God's people. Only two lessons were read at our service - the story of Israel crossing the Red Sea, and Ezkiel's vision of the dry bones returning to life.

The Epistle follows. I'm told I read it well.

Then came the baptisms, and so on. Three people were baptized. Twenty-six were confirmed. Three reaffirmed, and four were received.

The Bishop has a lovely tradition for confirmations, reaffirmations, and receptions. He invites people from the congregation who have a close relationship with those being confirmed (etc) to lay hands on these people at the same time he does. I laid my hand on a number of people, including Shelly. And June.

Now I had tears in my eyes. I'm moved when people choose this way of life. If you're serious about it, it isn't easy. It's the most challenging decision a person can make.

It's easy to be a TV Christian. It may be almost as easy to be a fundamentalist Christian, who often defines himself by how much better he is than all those sinners. It's harder to be a Christian who is neither of these, but who is judged by the worst of both camps. It's harder to seek to be Christ-like in a world that judges by standards 180° opposite of Jesus' standards.