Tag Archives: Bright Week

The Bright Monday that was…

food and cooking, Holy Week, Pascha,

According to liturgical time, Bright Monday is already past, and we are entering Bright Tuesday of this blessed week. I’m afraid I’m not readjusted to plain time yet, or to the way much of the world has merely switched from the weekend to weekday, or from Easter to common days. The superabundance of life and joy that descends on us at Pascha is too much for a few hours or even a few days to contain. So when I saw a call coming in on my phone from my doctor, my first thought was, Why would anyone be calling me today?? I didn’t pick up.

After Palm Sunday this year I was home for the next few days of Holy Week, but from Thursday evening until Sunday evening I went to church every day. Normally I can’t manage that with my limited mental and physical resources, but Holy Week is not Normal, and it didn’t feel right to be home when so much was happening elsewhere. I wish I didn’t have to miss any of the multitude of grace-filled services, each with its unique flavor, and particular gifts that are given only once a year to those present to imbibe and absorb them. Through all the senses and by means of our minds, as we hear the deep theology of our salvation, we are mystically brought into the presence of Christ — as He talks at length to His disciples in the upper room, prays in Gethsemane, is betrayed, mocked, and nailed to the cross.

At the Holy Saturday services we sing about the Harrowing of Hell. Both of the pictures above are from Matins of Holy Saturday, which is Friday evening. On Saturday, after the Vesperal Liturgy midday, many people are bustling about the church tidying up and decorating in preparation for the Paschal service.

At the same time other parishioners take turns reading the Acts of the Apostles beginning from the end of Saturday’s Liturgy all the way until the beginning of the service at 11:30 p.m.

By the time we get to Saturday night we are prepared to exult finally, at midnight, to shout, “Christ is risen!” and, “Indeed He is risen!” and with all our being to sing until we are hoarse the many glorious hymns of Paschal Matins, about Christ’s conquering of death. As the gates of Hell have been broken down, so are the gates and doors of the church open throughout Bright Week.

Many, if not most people in my parish make traditional rich breads and Pascha Cheese (a mildly sweet loaf made of cream cheese and others) to eat at the feast, but I have never done this. One new friend, when she heard that I hadn’t baked anything for my household, was mildly horrified, but also very pleased that she had good reason to give me one of the four braided breads that she’d baked Saturday morning, in the style of her homeland of Moldova. So I went home with this cheese-filled pastry, which I’ve been enjoying very much.

As to the spiritual feast, truly, we need all the time until Pentecost to even partially digest the reality of it. I expect to be in Greece for the feast of Pentecost, which will be different! But for the next few weeks we live in the radiance of “Christ is risen!” May the light of the Resurrection shine on your whole week, and make it Bright.

Death is over, Pascha continues.

church, Holy Week, Pascha, , , , ,

Every experience of Pascha in the Orthodox Church is going to be unique, and I suppose a person might remember past celebrations and compare one to another, but there is no question that this year was the best. Last year was the best, too. Because right now, whatever year it is, is the Pascha that has come to us now, and Pascha is a gift from Christ, from His Church, to us, His Church. We receive the Kingdom of God into our souls, just as the mercies of God are new every morning — especially Pascha morning.

“Death is over,” our rector preached this afternoon at Vespers, and the choir was even more robust than last week, with fourteen mostly big men (and several women) singing the triumphant resurrectional hymns, and many of the rest of us singing along with our favorites.

But let me backtrack to earlier in Holy Week. I spent all day Wednesday working on my red egg project. I’ll write more about that later, because to my surprise, the “experiments” continued all the way to Friday, involving about 365 eggs in all. I was still learning things this afternoon, so I will write a thorough report for the benefit of future red egg-dyers.

Our Holy Friday services, of which there are three, begin with Matins of Holy Friday on Thursday evening; it is to me one of the most beloved of all the week’s services. It is long, because 12 Gospel passages telling of Christ’s last days are read, solemnly in the middle of the church, while we hold candles and let our hearts be taken into that moment in God’s time. This year I made it to the other two services, too, on Holy Friday proper. Then I crashed.

The morning of Holy Saturday I took my turn and read the last two hours of the Psalms, by the icon “corpse” of Christ. Probably I should have been content to sign up for just one hour; I guess I was greedy! My voice was getting hoarse by the last half hour…

Then it was time for the baptisms; it was an especially meaningful day for me,
because I am the sponsor for the young woman who became “newly illumined.”

After that long service, taking most of Saturday afternoon, and the Eucharist, we had wine and freshly baked sourdough bread, to break our fast and to keep us going a little longer.

I went home and managed to take a nap before our midnight service. Orthodox Christians can’t wait until nine or ten o’clock, as we would on a typical Sunday morning, to meet and worship. Not at all. We want to be already gathered in the church by 10:00 or 11:00 o’clock, so that we can have time to process around the whole church property, and then be back at the doors to sing “Christ is risen!” as soon as the clock has changed to Sunday.

From 2010.

There came that glorious breaking forth of jubilation, with the chandeliers laden with flowers and set to swinging; ladies and children in their long white skirts, or frilly Easter dresses; deacons repeatedly walking up and down censing the whole temple; and the Paschal Homily of St. John Chrysostom, and the first chapter of John’s Gospel, starting with:

1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.
2 The same was in the beginning with God.
3 All things were made by him; and without him was not any thing made that was made.
4 In him was life; and the life was the light of men.
5 And the light shineth in darkness; and the darkness comprehended it not.

So much joy, in the risen Christ, our life and our light. What can I say? We feasted on Pascha, and then we gathered in the church hall and broke our Lenten fast together with earthly food: chocolate cake, mascarpone cheese, our red eggs, salami, chicken wings, and wine. Those were just a few items I saw at our table. I got home just after 4:00, and remarkably was able to be asleep before 5:00.

Today was the Paschal Vespers, which was richer and more elated than I ever remember. But maybe I myself was just not as tired as some years! Then the Pascha picnic, and a chance to spread ourselves on our blankets over the grass or at the picnic tables, and catch up for hours in a very relaxed way, watching the babies crawl around, and the tug-o-war competitions.

I’m going to reset my body clock tonight, I hope, and attend Bright Monday’s Divine Liturgy in the morning. For this Bright Week we will have frequent reminders of how Christ’s death ended death, and that his resurrectional life sustains us every hour of every day; Pascha continues. Christ is risen! Indeed He is risen!

Turtling with rugs and flowers.

homemaking, my garden, Pascha, , , , , , , , , , ,

As I was ironing some springtime trousers in the morning room, my eye caught the color on the orchid nearby. It’s blooming! Sometime in the last months I’d moved this long-ignored plant into my new space, and started giving it a little water more regularly. The response is heartening.

What I did to the neglected orchid was never conceived as a task to write on a list. It was just one of those many little things that we do, when we are “puttering” about our homes. Small tasks add up to make an increasingly homey space.

Only recently I found these rugs that seemed just perfect for my morning room that I hope will also be a sewing room. One of the reasons they appealed was that the turtle had not long before become an important symbol for me, after I heard a woman about my age speak about the practice of moving forward, no matter how slowly, when one is feeling overwhelmed by decisions and tasks. She said we must “keep turtling.” I had never heard “turtle” used as a verb before, but immediately I began to feel an affinity with those creatures, and to think of them as elegant and wise.

It seems there are other slangy meanings for to turtle, and one of them, “To defensively hide in one’s shell,”  has long been part of my survival toolkit. Ideally, I like to enact both meanings, as on the days when I get to stay home all day and get homey things done.

Bright Monday afternoon I truly lazed about the garden, quite worn out from the festivities and staying up late many nights for Holy Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday services. Then there was Pascha itself, when many of us didn’t get to bed until 4:00 a.m. I was pretty loopy, and really happy about many things, including the sunny day. I think you could say that I turtled, too, because I phoned my sister, and also invited a neighbor over to sit a while. I moved forward in catching up with people I love.

In the picture below of the orange helianthemum, you can see in the distance a box of panettone and a jar of lemon curd. I was having friends for dinner and took those items out of the freezer kind of late, so I was defrosting them in the sun.

As we enter the last day of Bright Week, I wanted to be sure to show you these garden beauties that show their understanding hearts by their uplifted and shining faces.

Bright and never-setting.

church, Pascha

Orthodox Christians are in Bright Week, the seven days beginning with the Feasts of Feasts, Holy Pascha (Easter), celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus Christ. It’s a week-long afterglow, the first of 40 days during which we greet one another not with “Hi!” but with “Christ is risen!”

This evening I attended Paschal Vespers, where we sang the joyous hymns about Christ, who during his earthly life had announced, “I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.”

Here is one stanza of a hymn:

We offer Thee our evening worship,
O never setting Light,
Who didst come in these last days to the world in the flesh;
Who even didst descend to hell to dispel its darkness.
Who hast revealed the light of Resurrection to the nations.
Glory to Thee, O Lord and Giver of light!

Christ is risen! Indeed He is risen!