From Fast to Feast

Our beautiful resurrection day service was held. The church is total darkness until the priest called out, "Christ is risen!" and held high a large candle. A candle in the darkness gives off a bright light. I was amazed at how much light. It is an image I hope I can remember when I am among people in dark places. We each lit our own candles from this candle. Throughout the service the priest shouts out, "Christ is Risen!" and we shout back, "Truly he is risen!" The kids loved it, and shouted with gusto. Still today they are calling it out to each other.

After the service, it was 1am by this stage, the feasting begun. My little one was jumping up and down with the excitment. The poor kiddies have been a bit hungry lately. There hasn't been much in the house to eat. I hope this too is an image forming in their minds. I can talk, talk, talk about hungering for God, about God fulfilling our needs. And now they have a physical experience to relate that to, of being hungry, of persevering and waiting, of the party and celebrating when we are with the risen Christ.

We had bacon and eggs and pancakes and coffee and hot cross buns for breakfast, and roast lamb and chocolate cake with double cream for dinner.

On the table sat the three Easter candles we had decorated the day before, our Easter eggs from our Easter egg hunt, our palm Sunday crosses, our Greek Easter bread from the kids Godfather, and on the window ledge the tall white candles he had given them, decorated with butterflies and a cross.

With every bite of chocolate I savoured I remembered, "I am feasting because Jesus is alive today."

Celebrating Orthodox Easter in Australia

I've found it quite difficult to celebrate two Easter's this year. Someone in the Seventh Day Adventist Church told me they celebrate Easter every Sunday. I don't think I could handle the emotional strain!

When all our friends and family and community celebrated Easter, and the nation had public holidays to do so, we joined their celebrations with eggs and hot cross buns, and stories and songs, albeit out camping in a paddock somewhere.

Now four weeks later we're doing it all again with our Orthodox brothers and sisters. This time we've been fasting from animal products for six (although we only did four) weeks, we're tired, we're working and going to school each day and attending church services for holy week at night. And everyone else is wondering why we're still going on about Easter.

There's been so many niggly little problems and annoyances with everyone and everything that it felt a little like spiritual attack. It's hard to think about Easter when you're annoyed by everyone. Which is quite possibly the idea of niggly little annoyances.

Our little church came together for worship on Sunday. We prayed, we worshipped, we received that precious blood of Jesus that really does fill me with warmth and joy and peace and a relaxing "Ahhhh. Everything is right" as the wine slips down my throat. We had lunch and laughed and talked about a lot of things.

Finally I feel like I can celebrate God's ultimate sacrifice to rescue us. Now I do feel like I can "get into" and participate with my whole self in Easter. And finally I feel that I can bring Easter to my children.

Going to the Holy week services that the church wisely provides does help prepare us for Easter. Going even when I'm running late, and preparing for meetings, and having hot chip sandwiches for tea, and knowing the kids are going to have a late night, going to a Holy week service turns my soul toward God without me struggling to do that on my own.

Jacqui came round and we made hot cross buns. They were edible this year, not like our first attempt.

• Thursday night we will make some more hot cross buns, and the kids can help. For our first attempt at making them six years ago (it's taken a long time to over it) the kids piped on crosses. This year I think that can be involved in the whole process, measuring, mixing, waiting for yeast to rise, kneading again, waiting again. We make the crosses out of a paste made from 2 tbsp self raising flour and 2 tbsp water.
  

• Friday we will dye some eggs ready for Sunday. Legend has it that Mary Magdalene took a red egg to explain the resurrection of Jesus to the Roman Emperor. And the Greeks knock their red egg against someone else's to say "Christ is Risen", the tomb has cracked open, death could not overpower God, and new life has come.

• Saturday we will roll beeswax sheets to make candles, and decorate them with little pieces of coloured decorating wax. You warm it between your fingers and push it on. Simple. The candles are used in the resurrection service. The service starts in darkness. When we get to the part of the story where Jesus is alive, the priest brings out a candle from which everyone lights their own candle, and the light of Jesus is passed on from person to person.

• Sunday hopefully we will get the chance to have a feast with roast lamb and potatoes. The kids have requested dessert with double cream.

This Friday, the Orthodox Good Friday, is Anzac day. It's the day we remember all those Australian and New Zealand soldiers who gave their lives to save and protect all that is precious, their family and friends and country. So quite appropriate for us to be remembering the day when Jesus rescue mission was drawing to it's completion. The day he died to save and protect all that is precious to God, that is every single person ever made.

Monastery Visit

Monasteries are pretty normal places. Discussions of monasteries never really came up on the radar for most of my life. Nuns were strange people who wore strange head dresses, flew around on television shows, and prayed all day. Or maybe worked as teachers or nurses. (The name 'monastery' applies to homes for both monks and nuns in the Orthodox church. I like it - there function is the same after all.)

I've heard it told that "Nuns don't do any real work. They just pray all day." Which to me sounds like the hardest work of all.

Yesterday we went to visit a little monastery, it's resident committed to "do what she has to do." It's a normal inner suburban house, the yard full of fruit trees; fig, persimmon, quince, and self sown rocket. Except that the lounge room is a library of books, the hall is lined with little tables covered in brochures about missionaries and theological colleges, there's a men's guest room in the backyard and the garage is a chapel, complete with multiple copies of prayer and service books.

In all the talk of urban monasteries and new monasticism there always seems to be the problem of finding the right building with the most land. Perhaps it's better to start where you are. Although all the more difficult to pray by yourself than with others.

We had the great privilege of sitting around the table in the kitchen to share a meal, while our host buzzed around doing all the things you have to do when you have guests. I felt that it should have been us doing the buzzing, while our host sat down, but this is of course very difficult in someone else's home. We talked about where to find the cheapest supermarkets, and neighbours who help feed the dogs, normal things, except for the brief mention of last night's guest who had required police and ambulance to attend, which reminded me that there was some important God-work going on here.

And then, the great gift for us, we got to go outside and do some gardening. We trimmed vines, pruned bushes and pulled weeds. The kids ran around busy as beavers, enjoying being helpful and useful and part of the 'real work'. They pruned and swept and pulled and discovered, collecting a little bag of flowers and fruit and herbs to bring home.

It was fabulous, and we felt good. Then together we prayed the evening prayers. Although the kids hung upside down off the chairs at the back (what is it with my kids being unable to just sit upright) they did pray and sing along. Perhaps praying together was the most helpful thing for Sister.