Fire
Tonight I had the most perfect fire:
It started with a huge burn pile that I had to eliminate. I wish I had a wood chipper, but I don't, so I burn most of my brush refuse. It does make lovely wood ash for my garden, though. Today was the perfect day. It was in the mid-60s F, enough rain in the last few weeks that I didn't have to worry about the occasional errant spark, but dry enough for several days that the pile of large and small brush and wood was not water-soaked. The large pile always scares me, and I always swear that I will never let it get that big again -- but I nearly always do. My house sits on about an acre (maybe even close to 2 acres), liberally dotted with trees and shrubs -- so I make a lot of brush in a few months. I have a lovely fire pit, which I dug myself, 8-10 feet in diameter and bordered with rocks that I've salvaged from my yard, mostly. When I dug it, I imagined fun evening gatherings with groups of friends -- that we would sit around, talking, gazing, laughing, and probably drinking late into the evening. Of course, the church keeps me busy enough that I don't exactly have "groups of friends," so those happy times have not materialized.
At any rate, this afternoon was the time to tackle the burn pile. And it was lovely. There was just the kind of breeze that, after that first, scary half hour burn-down of a big pile of dry brush, it kept the embers flared up into a nice fire. I even added 3-4 logs from my well-seasoned (seldom-used) wood pile. You see my chair, and that small square on the left is actually my gin & tonic perched on an old tree stump, waiting for me to sit and enjoy. I just went out to check it, and it was smaller, orange, and glorious. Honestly, I could gaze at a campfire like this for hours and hours, thinking deep thoughts.
The fire, after it settled down, reminded me of the new fire that we light at the Easter Vigil. For a couple of years, we had a lovely, large fire, set on the church's burn pile, which was in our huge, unpaved parking lot, about 100 feet from the church. The new fire of the Easter Vigil represents the light of Christ, the resurrection, that light, our Gospel says, that the darkness can not overcome. The last year (2006) that I had that lovely new fire, the men piled up just the right amount of brush, and it was impressive, but not dangerous. The year before, I almost burned my eyebrows off, trying to light the Paschal candle from a massive brush pile fire. But last year was different. Two weeks prior to our Vigil in 2007, a beloved parishioner, the one who actually laid out the new fire for me, was burned to death in a brush fire at his home. Last year nobody had the heart for a big, celebratory new fire. I went back to my previous practice, which was lighting a small new fire in an old frying pan, made with epsom salts and rubbing alcohol. It makes a lovely, "flambe-type" fire, I can light the candle, and can extinguish the fire by simply popping the lid onto the frying pan. Some day we will have a large, lovely new fire again, constructed from our brush pile behind the church. But not yet. No one has the heart for it quite yet. We can't help but think of Ray, and grieve.
So, Holy Week. It was the best one I've ever, ever had. Every single service: Palm Sunday, Tuesday, Wednesday (2), Thursday, Friday (2), Saturday, Easter Sunday -- all were deeply meaningful for me. The Stations of the Cross on Tuesday were something I've grown to love over the years -- they were not part of my Protestant, Episcopal upbringing, and they seemed slightly melodramatic to me. I've come to realize that melodrama is what you create -- or not. The Stations are what they are -- 14 profiles of the road from trial to crucifixion for Jesus. We don't do anything trendy, like make them "relevant to social justice issues," as the local UCC church does. They insist that it's all about Jesus confronting the "powers and principalities." Well, that's in there, but the Stations are so much more. This year my heart was touched deeply -- I'm not sure whether it was the content of the devotions themselves, or the willing participation of everyone who attended the service, reading prayers, shuffling from station to station inside the church (a matter of steps), or the solemnity with which we all participated (including me). It's hard to review those 14 "Stations" without being moved, if you are a Christian believer with an open heart.
Wednesday was Tenebrae. These once-a-year services can be a challenge. Tenebrae is about light and darkness. It's a monastic service of psalms, prayers, and candles. After each reading, a candle is extinguished. One candle remains that is removed from the room. After a loud noise (we clack two wooden blocks together), the remaining candle is returned to its holder -- again, the light that the darkness can not extinguish. We depart in silence.
Maundy Thursday is a little different. We begin with a celebratory meal: lamb, Waldorf salad, a green vegetable, potato, and bread. Wine at the table, no dessert. It's probably something like the Last Supper as described in John (which was NOT a Passover Seder). I really have problems with Christians having Seder meals -- more about that another time. After the dinner, we clear the tables and celebrate the Eucharist right there in the dining room, with participants passing communion to one another right around their dinner table. Then we process solemnly into the church, reciting Psalm 22, while the altar guild and I strip the altar and the chancel (the front part of the church, where the altar and lectern are located). Then I wash the 5 crosses on the top of the altar with consecrated wine. We leave the church in silence.
Good Friday we have two services: from noon till 3 pm we have a time of silent meditation and prayer (these are the traditional times when Christ hung on the cross, until he died). I do readings on the quarter hour -- psalms, a poem, some readings from Julian of Norwich and James Weldon Johnson (who wrote a powerful sermon/poem called "The Crucifixion" in the African-American preaching style). Then at 5 we have the Solemn Liturgy for Good Friday, along with communion from pre-sanctified elements (we can't bless bread and wine from Good Friday until the Great Vigil of Easter, so we use bread and wine that has already been blessed).
On Saturday is the Great Vigil, one of the most ancient liturgies of the church, dating from the 4th or 5th Century. It's when new Christians were baptized; we didn't have baptisms, but we do begin the service in darkness and candlelight, and midway through we go into a blaze of light, Alleluias (can't use those during the 6 weeks of Lent), and celebration of the first Easter service. Sunday morning is an anti-climax, after the Great Vigil. We have four readings that trace the course of salvation history, and then on to the Easter Gospel and champagne in the communion cup!
Every single service touched my heart. I was exquisitely aware of how much work every single person involved did to make this week Holy. I was humbled by the amount of work people were willing to do. I have taught for 5 years now that walking the way of the cross during Holy Week makes the joy and glory of Easter even fuller. This year it felt as though a good many people "got it." It's a satisfying feeling, to feel that your teaching might have made a difference in someone's experience of the Holy. I saw the face of Jesus, every which way I turned.
And now, I'm getting ready to go on a cruise. More about that tomorrow. I am packing and arranging and writing (my sermon for next week, not this week) as fast as I can. My camera is broken (I'm getting a new one), or I'd take pictures of the piles of books I can't sort through, so will take them all, and the piles of candy-colored clothes I'm taking to wear in the Caribbean tropics. My phone/camera still works; maybe I'll be able to grab some shots tomorrow in the full light of day.
One thing I do need to say about this cruise is that it is being financed by my big-hearted best friend -- a graduation present for the Haden Institute I completed in January. I can scarcely comprehend this kind of generosity. More reflection on that, too. Now, off to bed. Tuesday I had my pedicure; tomorrow I get the fingernails done to match, in addition to packing and working and preparing...
What a lovely and grace-filled week!!!!!!
Posted by: Kay Dennison | March 27, 2008 at 08:50 PM