Our son, the monk, called on the Saturday before Easter. (That’s not him in the picture, but one of the other monks at the Hermitage.) I asked Allen when they would celebrate Easter, or as the Orthodox call it, Pascha. April twenty-seventh, he told me. And then there was a pause. “I wish you could be here and see how we do it. I tell you, Mom, you Protestants are missing out, not paying attention to Lent and Holy Week.”
He’s probably right. We descendants of northern European Protestants approach Easter in the buttoned up traditions of our ancestors. No need to get carried away, don’t ya know? Somebody might be watchin’ you go a little crazy about God bein’ raised from the dead, and then where would ya be?
On the other hand, the northern European buttoned up blood was pretty thin by the time it got to our son. He’s always been, to put it mildly, a flamboyant dresser. In fourth grade, he had me make him a tunic and robe for Halloween. He was King David, a perennial costume favorite for ten-year-old, Christian white boys in Iowa. When he left for the monastery his assurance to his grandmother was, “I’ll wear a robe every day, Grandma. You know how much I like to dress up.” So I’m not surprised that our son loves the pageantry and processions, the robes and the rhinestones that are part of the faith tradition he has chosen.
Still, I’ve been thinking about what he said. We Protestants don’t pay much attention to Lent and Holy Week. Perhaps that’s why our holiday is more about the Easter bunny than the celebration of the empty tomb. I’ll be mulling that over a while. And if I think it’s true, I may volunteer to spearhead Lenten and Holy Week observances at our church next year.
If you go to my church and you’re reading this, don’t start hyperventilating yet. I’ll try not to get too crazy, don’t ya know? Though come to think of it, the King David costume is in a box in the attic somewhere. Let me know if you’re interested.
