Almost Easter

When I was growing up, Lent was a long, solemn vigil in what always seemed the grayest, wettest time of the New England year. Ceremonies were intoned in Latin, in a darkened church, and the sound of that long-dead language would set the cadence for the many days ahead. It was truly a time of serious reflection, and even though we were still very young, we got the message.

The nightly services, the Stations of the Cross, the incense. Somehow the silence had a weight to it in that big church, as we sat in hunched rows, waiting for our turns in the confessional. The whispered "Our Fathers" and "Hail Mary's" ricocheted off the curved ceiling and around the purple-covered statues. Rosary beads clicked together, bringing images to our young minds of bones in a shadow-infested graveyard.

It wasn't so much that we gave up candy, although we did. It wasn't so much that we spent more time in church, although we did. It wasn't so much that we stayed away from meat every day, not just on Friday, although we did. It was the combination of those things. A grayness that spread from the spot of ashes on our foreheads, and enveloped us with the sober knowledge that we had something to atone for.

And then, it was Easter. The covers came off the statues, flowers were everywhere, music filled every corner and there wasn't a shadow to be found. The priests wore white and gold, and everybody sang. There was joy in our new suits and shoes, in Mom's new dress and hat, in the big feast at home after Mass with all the relatives seated at the big wooden table.

We didn't just observe the season. We felt it. The somber days of Lent gave the celebration of Easter its true meaning for us. The meaning you can't put down on a piece of paper. The meaning that you hold inside your heart.

Those days were years ago, and things have changed a lot in the interim. That big church is closed now, and up for sale. They haven't prayed in Latin for a long time. I'm far removed in years and miles from old St. Francis Church. The nuns are gone, the priests are gone. The parish is gone.

Still, it hasn't disappeared completely. For some reason it came back to me tonight.

I wish you all a truly Happy Easter.

Blog at ya later,
-Geezerguy