When Easter Feels More Like Advent



How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?
How long must I bear pain in my soul,
    and have sorrow in my heart all day long?
How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?
Psalm 13:1-1 (NRSV)


Since I was a child, Holy Week has always been my favorite time of the year. 


Unlike Advent and Christmas, we don’t sing and hear the songs incessantly for months
before the actual event, so the tunes feel fresh and nostalgic all at once. The Spring
season is always just at its start and the flowers and greenery are inevitable. Easter was
even whenever I decided to propose to Logan (since she would never have guessed I
would do such a thing on a holiday!) I would even go so far as to say that Lent is one of
my favorite times; when I was younger it was more of a competitive ‘my Lent is better
than yours’ kind of feeling, but now the opportunity for an intentional 40 days of
contemplation is an uplifting end to the cold chill of Winter.


But this Holy Week just doesn’t feel quite right. 


Due to the mass outbreak of COVID-19 and the forced closure of our global society,
we’ve had to take a long, hard look at the culture we have become. This is especially
true for churches. Our latest iteration of church structure from the mid-20th-century is
being seriously challenged by the advancements of technology. Amidst a myriad of other
concerns, the Church has been loath to address the impetus to adapt and make sacred
the gift of technology upon our holy lifestyles. I’m almost envious of those bold enough
to outright cast aside technology, rather than our faux trepidation and constant bickering
of its potential ethical concerns. 


Regardless of the prior conflict, the Church has been forced to adapt and move quickly
into the virtual sphere that many of us have inhabited for a short while now. It hasn’t been
clean-cut and many are struggling or outright rioting against the change. As a Methodist,
I believe that our call to ‘Do No Harm’ is directly in conflict with anything other than the
obedience to the health community’s recommendations, but I digress, this is not a
reflection on that sticky matter.


What I believe we are experiencing as a global faith community is the division of space,
time and faith between the Christ of the Passion and the Birth of Christ in Advent. Much
like our ancestors, when it comes to Easter we are expecting a triumphant and bold Christ
that comes riding into town over cloaks and palm branches upon the donkey. We will briefly
dip our toes into the depth of Christ’s sacrificial blood if we are able to make it to the Maundy
Thursday or Good Friday Services this year, but our true hopes are for the floral ties and
gaudy outfits of Resurrection that preludes the Easter Egg luncheon on Sunday. 


But… not this year.


No, instead we are not given the choice between the polka dot or the chevron tie, but rather
pastors are being asked whether or not to livestream or to upload their sermons. We are no
longer able to choose between Palm Sunday or Maundy Thursday services. We are bound
to our homes, separated from the usual Sunday crowd, and feeling more alone than ever. In
a sense, we are being given the truest expression of Lent that we’ve ever experienced. 


Normally it is the impetus of the pastor to decide how to give the parishioner the empathetic
experience of Christ during the trials of the Holy Week - now the choice is made for us, and it’s constant. The most of the whole ‘valley of the shadow of death’ thing we would
typically experience might be a brutal Good Friday experience of nailing into a cross or
anointing the cross with oil. Then, we’d breathe deep and be ready for the joyous colors of
Easter Sunday. 


But not this year. The Valley is deeper and wider than ever - and I’m sure we are all struggling
to take the same journey that Jesus once took for you and for me. 


And so we are given the time - and a whole lot of it - to cry out the age-old query:
how long, O Lord? 


Don’t worry - I’m still a pastor and I’m still here to bring you the Good News. Yes, this is
challenging. Yes, this is daunting. Yes, this has gone on longer than any of us expected. But -
hear the good news! Christ the Lord has risen and Easter has come, will come, and is coming.
As we journey through the eschatological ‘now, and not yet,’ take heart in the truth that Christ
is the resurrected King who has come, is coming and will come again. 


The beauty of this Advent-Easter hybrid is that we are being given the time needed to truly
mourn and delve into the hard places of Christ being betrayed, crucified and buried. These
are important things to consider and aren’t meant to only be the first half of the song before
the fun resurrection part. 


So, take your time. Lament and cry out “How Long, O Lord?” Mourn for the crucified Savior who
has conquered death. Ask yourself who you are in the story. Are you Peter, the denier? Are you
Judas, the betrayer? Are you Caiaphas, looking for Jesus to slip up? Are you Pilate, seeking
answers? Are you the disciples, sleeping when Jesus needs you most? You have the time, so
take it. See what lies waiting in the valley. 


Nevertheless, we mustn't forget that we are still Easter people at the end of it all and that hope
abounds at the end of this road. In fact, it might be waiting for us tenfold it’s normal feeling.


I saw a meme the other day online that lamented jokingly that 'this Lent was the Lentiest Lent
that I’ve ever Lented.' Indeed. And perhaps, this time where we are truly experiencing the valley
will allow for the greatest Easter celebration we’ve ever known.


Perhaps whenever we finally are freed from our shackles and able to join together in glorious
praise once again, we will experience an Easter that we’ll never forget. It may not be on April 12th
this year, but what’s a calendar date anyway? The beauty of Advent lies in the culmination of
knowing what’s to come - and what could be greater than experiencing firsthand the resurrecting
power of being free? 


May this Easter be the Easteriest Easter we’ve ever Eastered. 


Be blessed, Wavemakers.

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