The Great Easter Un-Ready

St. George’s Anglican Church, Lightning Ridge, 1933, after cyclone, flickr

You’re not sure you’re ready for this yet.

The Church is one foundation is Jesus Christ our Lord. She is his new creation by water and the Word.

Fifteen minutes late, sneak in through the back. Hardly anyone there. Everyone socially-distanced. Few under sixty.

Do not be like horse or mule, which have no understanding who must be fitted with brit and bridle, or else they will not stay near you.

Don’t forget to bow during the Nicene Creed, curtsy and bow before going to the altar, cross yourself at the mention of the Lord.

When you were little and your father a pastor in another denomination, you rolled up the bulletin and pretended to smoke. No telling what you will get when you adopt said one of your in-laws to your mother once. When you were little that time you smoked, you purposefully sat down when everyone stood up, stood up when everyone sat down.

Great are the tribulations of the wicked; but mercy embraces those who trust in the Lord.

Spankings on the butt in your room.

Today, they are welcoming during the service and give you a gift bag for being new. Hopefully, they have not noticed all your blunders including how late you were. You are rusty and full of excuses. You were not born into it, this faith. No, but you came damaged.

Are you smiling enough? You hope so. And you are so nervous, you have to be reminded of your jacket and gift bag you left on the pew. What does the woman with the diamonds on her neck think of you, the one who says you left “your brain” on the pew? She speaks of her heroics as a hard-working and faithful youth minister’s wife. Later you will remember the damage on the back of your car gave you no chance. If anyone saw you drive away. Drive away fast and quickly. From invitations to stay, stay for Sunday school. But they were friendly. Of course.

And the pastor who with authority and grace spoke of the prodigal was beautiful. But later, a woman of the landed gentry (we used to hunt in your area of town) spoke of a member who had a previous life in a “gang,” a member who is definitely the “prodigal” if ever there was one. You’re not ready for this. Jesus loves you too, lady.

On your way home, you admit Jesus, Mother Mary of God, does my father love dictators now? Remembering his stance on the rights of special groups in town, his run out of town on a rail, his run out of his church. The gossip, the pain. Feeling both defensive for him, but regretful. You are scared to ask him what he believes in his new iteration of a life, retired.

You’re not sure you’re ready for this yet. Why did you take off your Easter hat in church? It was all fixed and everyone could see your bobby pins. Mother, again, angry. Punishments. Silence.

You were married in your father’s church. When you returned, divorced, their stares on you.

For your hand was heavy upon me, day and night; my moisture was dried up as in the heat of summer.

Mother abusive when father away. But only verbally so when present.

Happy families from the altar. Happy families in church.

Great are the tribulations of the wicked: but mercy embraces those who trust the Lord.