Happy Easter

Unable to attend my church's regular Easter service at 10, I went hunting for an Episcopal sunrise service. The nearest was the Church of the Epiphany in San Carlos, where we had once been members from 1988 to 2003. The outdoor mass began at 6:30 a.m. and finished in under an hour. Music was furnished by a parishioner with a guitar.

I recognized a few old timers, but none of them recognized me. Well, it has been 22 years and we've all changed a bit.

Besides, if you show up to see and be seen, you're in the wrong place. Easter Sunday is a day to give thanks and praise for the gift of eternal life, regardless of whether two, three, or hundreds are gathered together.

Palm Sunday, 2025

In her homily the lady minister meditated on the highs and lows of Holy Week--Jesus' triumphant entrance into Jerusalem, the Last Supper, the betrayals and despair of the Crucifixion, and the joy of the Resurrection, the foundational event of Christianity.

Don't just skip to the happy ending; the journey, not just the destination, is important.

The church's worship area looks especially beautiful. The purple of Lent has given way to Palm Sunday's red, and the green palms and blue-white stained glass festooned the sanctuary with color. Enjoy the journey this week.

An Offer We Can't Refuse

Cancel Culture: Despite Humanity's Problematic Past, Jesus Still Offering To Cancel Sins Of The World https://t.co/mrjCM7hhJT pic.twitter.com/tklOUTC1n1

— The Babylon Bee (@TheBabylonBee) April 1, 2024

Holy Week plumbs the depths and heights of human experience. Whether sad or joyful, Christians normally take the whole week seriously.

Good-natured humor not related to the Easter bunny is relatively rare, but the Babylon Bee comes up with a take (excerpt):

But then He did something really strange that didn't make a ton of sense to anyone: instead of canceling humanity, He sent His Son to pay for the sins of the world and offered to cancel forever the sin-debt of those who believe in Him.

Reports indicated that for those who were dead in their sins, "God made alive together with Him, having forgiven us all our trespasses, by canceling the record of debt that stood against us with its legal demands. This He set aside, nailing it to the cross."

However, sources warned that God has canceled humanity once before with water and will do it again with fire one day, for those who reject His offer of canceling their sins forever.

Happy Easter!

It Is Finished

Later, knowing that everything had now been finished, and so that Scripture would be fulfilled, Jesus said, “I am thirsty.” A jar of wine vinegar was there, so they soaked a sponge in it, put the sponge on a stalk of the hyssop plant, and lifted it to Jesus’ lips.

When he had received the drink, Jesus said, “It is finished.” With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.

Palm Sunday, 2024

With four different priests, not to mention the addition of COVID protocols, the Palm Sunday liturgy for the Episcopal Church in Foster City has changed in each of the past five years. Today there would be no burning of incense, the services would not start outside, and there would be no marching around the block in emulation of Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem.

One constant was the wearing of liturgical red by the priest and many in the congregation. Another was the reading of the Passion Gospel (Mark 14-15), with various church members voicing the parts of Jesus, Pilate, the "crowd," the chief Priest, etc.

When I was a child I couldn't identify with major sections of the Passion Gospel: how could His loyal disciples deny knowing Jesus? why would the crowd choose to free the murderer Barabbas and crucify the peaceful Jesus? how could He be cheered upon his entrance to Jerusalem yet hated enough to be put to death less than a week later?

The answer is obvious to anyone who follows the news and is a riposte to those who say that Christianity has no relevance today.

Easter Vigil

The Easter Vigil began outside with the lighting of the fire.

Sanctify this new fire, and grant that in this Paschal feast we may so burn with heavenly desires, that with pure minds we may attain to the festival of everlasting light; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

The assemblage moved indoors, where the fire was transferred to the Paschal Candle.

Illuminated only by the Candle, the church's sanctuary darkened as the sun set. The congregation prayed and meditated upon the Bible readings.

Then the priest chanted: Alleluia, the Lord is risen! The congregation responded: The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Bells were rung, and the lights came on. There was singing and communion and fellowship

On their way rejoicing the congregation went into the night.

Planting Lilies

A month of rain has washed the drought away.

The downside: weeds have sprung up in all the bare patches and flower beds.

The rain stopped from Sunday to Wednesday. It was a window that enabled this homeowner to start the refurbishment.

They're not Easter lilies, but calla lilies are a nice-looking substitute.

Palm Sunday, 2023

Palm Sunday services began like other pre-COVID Palm Sundays. The congregation assembled outside, and the priest read the passage from Matthew 21 that described Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem.

(Modern Bibles say Jesus rode on a donkey, but the King James version refers to an "ass." Language changes aren't always for the better.)

After the reading we walked back into the church, instead of marching around the block as in previous years.

Many of us didn't mind the abbreviated journey; knees, hips, and ankles aren't as strong and flexible as they were four years ago.

Signs of Life

The bulb is on a window sill

The flowers opened on the amaryllis bulb shortly after Christmas. When the petals faded, we pinched off the flowers before they began to seed.

To our surprise (it was our first amaryllis, a gift), the bulb grew another stalk and bloomed again, two weeks in advance of Easter.

Green is everywhere after the heavy rains.

Most people have doffed their masks.

Signs of new life are everywhere.

Signs of Life

With the church about 75 percent filled, the services on Easter Sunday were almost back to normal. Almost, because everyone still wore a mask, and for communion they still went single file up to the altar and received the Host spaced six feet apart. After partaking the bread sans wine, they went back to their seat.

In the courtyard there was an Easter Egg hunt. The Sunday Schoolers were joined by families from the pre-school. There were hundreds of eggs, candies, and tchotchkes to be found, and the children scampered about while the grown-ups lunched and drank coffee.

On Resurrection Sunday the church is showing signs of life.

Easter, 2022

Resurrection of Christ by Raphael

After two consecutive years of not attending Easter services, I won't miss a third.

Resurrection Sunday is the holiest of all feast days because to Christians it commemorates the most important event in human history--the triumph of life over death.

The actuarial tables say that 80% of my life has passed, and so, as I wrote last year, after a lifetime of ignoring the Resurrection I am thinking about it more and more.

I'll even put on a tie. Yes, it's that important.

Palm Sunday, 2022

It was the first "normal" Palm Sunday since 2019. The congregation commemorated Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem by marching around the block, then settled in to listen to the familiar Passion of Christ (Luke 22-23).

This time I paid attention to every word. When something has been taken away unexpectedly for two years, one appreciates it more. Moreover, the impossible has now proved possible--it can be taken away again.

The liturgical color of Palm Sunday is red, symbolizing Jesus' blood that will be shed later that week.

I wore a red shirt, as did many worshippers, and ruminated briefly on the symbolism of the red shirt in Star Trek (it means imminent death).

Given what we've all been through for two years, I don't think we need any visual aids to remind us.

We are Marching

(WSJ photo)

Christian processions are commonplace....inside the walls of Catholic and Anglican churches; rarely are they seen on the streets of secular America. When Catholics marched down Sixth Avenue on Columbus Day

Confusion filled the faces of virtually everyone we passed. Phones came out to record us. More than one person stopped to ask questions.

Thanks to a police escort, we constantly kept moving. As people saw us coming, they crowded on corners. Some stayed there after we passed, wondering what they’d just seen.

Far from being a novelty, the Catholics' walk in the heart of Manhattan was in America's time-honored tradition of processions, parades, and marches to celebrate events, individuals, and groups.

the Democratic Republic was embodied in countless civic ceremonies during which frequent parades of various types were undertaken—marches by local militias, firefighters and trade bodies, election parades, funeral marches upon the death of a significant person or a president, parties at events considered worthy of celebration such as the completion of the Erie Canal in 1825, regional or local anniversaries such as Admission Day in San Francisco or St. Patrick's Day in New York, national holidays such as July 4, the anniversary of the birth of George Washington or the parade for the Centennial of the Revolution, and so on.

So what functions did these parades fulfill? In the early decades of the nineteenth century, cities were inhabited by a heterogeneous population of newcomers largely of foreign origin—English, Irish, and German—who were in constant movement and whose social status was often uncertain. Marches, which proliferated in the period 1830–1840, enabled people to show and represent their diversity but also to publicly assign a place to each group. Residents marked their membership of particular trades, social, political or ethnic groups...

Today marches favoring or opposing political movements are much more common than religious processions, but perhaps the rarity of the latter will appeal to a younger generation looking for something new, then finding it something very old.

Related: in his homily today the priest said some of his younger acquaintances would ask if they could borrow his vestments for a Halloween costume. His too-kind response was that they were "sanctified," that is, set apart for God and were not to be used for profane purposes. But the interesting point to this story is that a younger person, despite his ignorance, might find the formal trappings of Christianity to be cool.

Maybe one or two people will stop to inquire what we're doing the next time we march around the block on Palm Sunday.

Easter, 2021

Noli me tangere (Do not touch me). Magdalene
mistakes Christ for the gardener. Fontana(1581)

Death loomed over the lives of the ancients. Existence was focused on finding the next meal and avoiding the predations of nature and fellow human beings.

In a world where the average life expectancy was about 30 years, there was wonder in the Resurrection, a wonder that has all but vanished.

Especially today, it is imperative that Christians recover the sheer strangeness of the Resurrection of Jesus and stand athwart all attempts to domesticate it.

In the 21st century the miracle of Easter has been normalized by science, science fiction, psychologists, Jungian philosophers, historians, and anthropologists, all of whom have alternate explanations for the Resurrection.

The distractions and busy-ness of modern society have pushed aside deep thoughts about life, death, and the meaning of it all. However, in recent years an increasing number of my contemporaries have passed away. Over the past twelve months alone I've mourned the loss in absentia of Jan, the wife of a business colleague; Marc, whom I played bridge with on CalTrain; Richard, the husband of my cousin; Mike, who ran the Toulouse office; Judy, who always volunteered for charity; and Wayne, who let me read his comic books in 4th grade.

After a lifetime of ignoring the Resurrection, I am thinking about it more and more.

Sunday morning is cold and overcast, so I'm posting this photograph of the lagoon from three days ago. Happy Easter!

Palm Sunday, 2021

Holy Week begins today, and like last year only virtual services were held.

The last normal Palm Sunday was in 2019, when the congregation marched around the block in symbolic remembrance of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem astride an ass (yes, dear reader, the grade school boomer snickered when he first heard the passage from the King James Bible; "ass" became "donkey" in later versions).

On Palm Sunday 2019 Tiger Woods won the Masters, his first major-tournament win after 11 years. His world was bright, and ours was too, with plentiful jobs and a soaring stock market. Now Tiger is recovering from a horrific car crash, and he is struggling to learn to walk again, much less play professional golf. Most of us, and very likely including Tiger Woods, want to go back to the way things were.

(From Catholic Americans in Korea)

The priest talked today about various concepts of time:

Chronos is the dominant mode of modern thinking--the past, present, and future are distinctly different, i.e., "chronological".

Kairos, another Greek word, is about propitious moments, e.g., saying the right words and saying them eloquently are important, but saying them at the right time maximizes their impact. Jesus' arrival in Jerusalem at Passover is an example of Kairos.

Transhistoricity is above history, that is, a thing or concept "that has always existed and is not merely confined to one particular stage of human history." Christians and followers of other religions believe that God and universal truths exist independently of human-defined periods of history.

The priest further explained: events and people are unified across time. We are limited in our understanding if we think that Palm Sunday, the Crucifixion, and the Resurrection happened in the past. We are there now, cheering for Jesus, shouting for Barabbas to be freed, and witnessing His death at the Cross.

In science fiction movies, chaos results when past, present, and future converge. Fear not, said Jesus, whom we proclaim will come again but according to transhistoricity may be already here. Uh-oh, I'm not ready, but few of us are.

Sexagesima Sunday

What, you're not observing Pre-Lent?

The priest greeted us, "Happy Sexagesima Sunday."

One dictionary describes Sexagesima as "the Sunday before Quinquagesima", an unhelpful definition.

Sexagesima means 60 days before Easter, which is actually 8 weeks--56 days--from today. The reason for the unhelpful definition is now clear. Quinquagesima--50 days before Easter--is numerically accurate if one employs inclusive counting. Of course, next Sunday, February 14th, 9,999 people out of 10,000 will be celebrating Valentine's Day, not Quinquagesima.

As for Sexagesima, anything else going on this Sunday?

Easter, 2020

8 a.m. Easter morning, Foster City, California

An hour after dawn it was a good time to go for a walk.

There were few cars on the road and a couple of people walking their dogs.

I cross the street without pressing the button for the "Walk" signal. The signal stops traffic for 20 seconds, which is irritating to drivers when the pedestrians usually only need 10. I jogged across.

I used to subscribe to five (5) sports podcasts but gave them up a month ago because they had nothing new to say. When sports resume, I won't re-subscribe to any of them, a casualty of the great re-set.

Jordan Peterson's biblical series podcasts seemed appropriate for Easter Sunday, so I listened to his first, Introduction to the Idea of God. (The YouTube version is here.) I like to listen to Jordan Peterson because you never know where he's going, as opposed to partisan blogs which are like a bad movie in that you know the ending five minutes after they start.

About an hour into his talk Jordan Peterson mentioned a graphic representation of Biblical internal cross-references, which I later looked up and copied below, reserving judgment as to whether it's meaningful.

I tuned in to my church's streaming service at 10. With no Communion it only lasted 44 minutes.

By the way, I do understand why some congregations are so insistent about holding in-person services on Easter. It's the most important Feast on the Christian calendar and commemorates the Resurrection, an event more important than Christmas.

Moreover, a church filled with worshippers singing the traditional Easter hymns is not an experience that can be fully captured on YouTube, any more than a packed concert hall or football stadium.

On the bright side perhaps next year everyone will not take Easter worship, egg hunts, and parades (do they still have those?) for granted and make a special effort to attend celebrations.

Easter, 2019

Baptism for a 1 y.o.

The Easter Vigil begins the night before, at sunset. Churchgoers held candles lit by the Paschal Candle, but old eyes still had trouble making out the words in the hymnals and programs. After the baptism the minister proclaimed "Happy Easter!", the lights came on, and the ceremony concluded without mishap.

Ducks and other waterfowl have free rein over Foster City neighborhoods. On Easter morning this pair caused a delay in parishioners' arrival times. Our car inched forward until we were almost on top of them. They moved aside, quacking furiously.

The liturgical color of Easter is white. White is also the color used to represent death in Japanese culture. The rector, a San Francisco-born Japanese-American, must experience a little dissonance but never shows it."Alleluia, the Lord is risen." The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia.

After the adults and older youth spent hours hiding the Easter eggs--some with special prizes--the children line up for the hunt. The gate's been locked, and the grownups will try to see that the littlest kids get their share.

Regardless, it was all over in a few minutes.

"It Felt Like a Miracle"

Good Friday, 2019, in Paris (NBC photo)

Peggy Noonan asks why the burning of Notre-Dame Cathedral triggered an emotional reaction around the world:

the flames and smoke evoked similar [to 9/11] feelings of grief and loss, and a sense of portent, especially for Catholics, who saw in the destruction a metaphor for—or a judgment of—the state of their church...

Tuesday morning, the shocking good news: The fire was out, the structure still standing, the great things still there—the radiant cross, the altar, the Pietà, the pews, the relics saved.

It felt like a miracle, didn’t it? I think it was.

From despair to hope....on Holy Week. Unbelievable.

Prepping for the Party

On Saturday morning the altar is bare and the cross is draped in black from yesterday's Good Friday services.

Out will come the white raiments and tablecloths, and the mournful black will be put away.

Tonight we will attend the Easter Vigil, a quiet meditative service.

Tomorrow is the party, when the sanctuary will be full of life and music.