Easter Season

The most miraculous thing happened to me this Easter. I have to step back a bit because, during a Lent of wow, twenty years ago, I prayed for my wasband’s heart to turn from stone into flesh. That entire Lent, that was my prayer. It didn’t happen, though another miracle happened in that I discovered that I would be fine, better than fine. A calm came over me, an intense peace overwhelmed me, and I knew that there was a better life for me without that man. The next day, I filed for divorce.

Since then, I have been trying to put more trust in God and His will for my life.

This Holy Week, the pieces started to fit together. It was especially special because I had reconnected with my friends from Colorado Springs, and they invited me to share their Easter meal with their family. I found them on Holy Thursday at a completely random church that is in the neighborhood of my Airbnb.

There is something special about this church. The priest, though somewhat difficult to understand with his thick accent, speaks off the cuff, sometimes stopping himself before saying something he shouldn’t, and is completely authentic and delightful.

My intention was to go to the Easter Vigil because it had been decades since I had been and the priest said that it was truly the beginning of our faith. If you haven’t been, it’s the really long Mass Saturday night before Easter, where they bring in the new catechumens, light the new Easter candle, and bless the oils. As the priest said, it is the birth of the church in the waiting for the Resurrection. It was scheduled for 8:30 pm, with confession from 5-6:00 pm. It had been a few months, so I went to confession.

I walked in and saw the younger priest with the heavy accent, and the older priest sat in a small room to the left.

“Are you here for confession,” the younger priest asked.

“I was thinking about it,” I stammered, as I didn’t expect to see the priest upon entering the church.

“He’ll be easier on you,” the younger priest said, and I walked into the room and took a seat.

I wasn’t entirely sure what I was going to say. Sometimes I made a list, and other times, my sins hung on me so uncomfortably that I had to shed them as quickly as possible. This time, as I reviewed my happenings over the past few months, it was the little sins that nagged at me. They were the hurtful things I experienced from others like judgement and unforgiveness. While talking with this older priest, I realized that I had been judgmental and I needed to offer forgiveness to those who hurt me. Again.

He absolved me of my sins and I said my penance. I looked at the vibrant orchids around the altar and the flowers around the baptismal font and I smiled. Part of me wanted to come back to the Easter Vigil, and the other part wanted to go home.

The Ten Commandments, with Charlton Heston, was on the television (commercials and all) that night, and the pups and I watched it and had dinner. I don’t think I’ve ever truly watched it from beginning to end, and I’ve certainly not watched it since going through the Bible more closely and believing everything in it as truth. The tensions between brothers, the slavery, the unworthiness of Moses, the burning bush and the calling, the plagues, and ultimately leading the Israelites out of Egypt, and the parting of the Red Sea. Bible stories, yes. Truth? Yes. Once you watch that movie with eyes of truth, you glimpse God’s almighty power, as interpreted through technocolor.

Easter morning, I went to morning Mass and we were invited to introduce ourselves to our neighbor because there were many CEOs (Christmas and Easter Only). The young priest with the thick accent said he only got an hour’s sleep because it was like knowing you would receive a billion dollar check the next morning, and there was just no sleeping with all the excitement. He said he used to say “a million dollar check”, but because of inflation, etc, he changed it to billion. Instead of saying the, “I confess” part of the Mass, he decided to douse us with holy water as a way to wake us up, as well as himself. He really got us.

During the Homily, he said that through the Resurrection, Christ conquered death. He said, we are all afraid of death in one way or another and therefore live in fear. When Mary arrived at the tomb, the angel said, “Be not afraid.” There literally is nothing to fear because Jesus took it away for us. Living without fear is one of the many things I’ve been working on since the one Lent and the wasband.

What I physically felt during Mass was that my sins were the stone in front of the tomb, my own heart of stone, and with the Resurrection, my heart was opened, was made flesh. I felt, truly felt, that there as nothing to fear. I felt alive and aware, and felt as if I could conquer the world.

Until yesterday.

Yesterday, I relayed my Easter story to one of my sisters. It started raining and the topic turned to logistical things. The pups and I were in the car, waiting for the rain to stop before getting out. I decided to research one of the logistical things so put the car in gear, and set off. I was still chatting with my sister, when in my periferral vision, I saw a homeless man lying on the sidewalk, on his side like he was sleeping. A big German Shepherd kept watch behind him. Was he dead? Was he napping? Should I stop? For a moment, the German Shepherd and I locked eyes. I glanced around, was there a parking spot? There was not.

It all took place in a second. I was on an errand, but was it essential to do that errand right away? Could it wait? Of course it could. It is amazing how quickly our brains can discern a situation. Perhaps this is life in the big city. I knew someone else would walk by and take care of him, or maybe he was napping and would wake up and continue his journey. I thought of the story of the Good Samaritan, and I was no better than the first two passersby, who didn’t stop. I chose not to be inconvenienced.

When I returned home, I took the dogs on a walk, past the place on the sidewalk, to see if the man and the dog were still there. They were not. It started hailing, and we turned toward home.

I believe that that God dog looked at me in that moment as a test to see if I would stop. To see if I would get my hands dirty, or choose to be inconvenienced, to live in fear. On the other hand, the whole thing could have been a ruse to hurt me, but if I truly believed that there was nothing to fear, then it wouldn’t have mattered and I would have stopped. Though I didn’t stop, I sent up a prayer for that man and his dog. Maybe it was my way of justifying my lack of compassion, and washing my hands of the situation, or maybe it was God’s way of saying that I’ve still got a long way to go.

I will try to go to confession again this coming Sunday, Divine Mercy Sunday, where all sins are forgiven, and begin again.

Thank you Lord, for raising Jesus from the dead and destroying death for us. Thank you for this Easter season where we get to spend these fifty (longer than the forty days of Lent) days reading the Acts of the Apostles, rediscovering Your unconditional love for us, through Your son, and removing all fear from our lives, and trusting You with our whole heart.