The Sunday of the Resurrection

5:00 am – I begin this Sunday of the Resurrection with words of affectionate regard for my friend John, the Sexton of this parish. Before he left last night after the Vigil (about 12:30 am), he made a point of coming downstairs to my office, where I was breaking my Lenten fast with a bit of Midnight Snack, notably including Matt's Chocolate Chip Cookies (two of them), in order to shake my hand and wish me a good-night (for I was sleeping in my office, as is my custom on this Night, short as it is).

John was here all night at the Vigil of the Blessed Sacrament on Thursday to provide security for the people who were keeping vigil – and on that night, it was necessary, as I wrote earlier; a deranged drifter wandered in about 5 am, when (I think) a young woman would have been alone in the darkened church. He had intended to go home and sleep for a while on Friday, but ended up staying all morning to deal with the drifter, as I described in Friday's essay. By this time, it was almost noon, so he assisted at the 12:15 Liturgy – as he often does, and as he did last night (Thurifer, filling the church with the holy Incense, the prayers of the saints, as it has never been filled before – we have a new thurible that can be swung more vigorously, and with the Rector's enthusiastic support, John was putting it to good use). And then he was back for the evening's choral Liturgy, where (again) he had to deal with the deranged man, who shouted curses at him as John evicted him.

On Saturday, John was among the four of us who observed Matins and the Liturgy of the Day, beginning a workday of sixteen hours – this I know, for it was my workday as well. At the end (after a well-deserved glass of champaigne at the reception), he and I struck the one hundred chairs in the Parish Hall (site of the Office of Readings, before the Eucharist in the Church) and made such other preparations as we could for today. And he will be here in a short while as Acolyte for the 7:45 Eucharist, and another busy morning.

There is probably not another Sexton in the entire Episcopal Church who would do all of these things, as well as being a man of uncommon Christian devotion and character. And through our work together, we have become friends. I am not sure that I have a closer friend these days, excepting Mrs. C. (who has been my Best Friend since we first became friends, almost forty years ago).

One of the memories I will cherish from this week was Friday afternoon, at the end of the Three Hours. Nora, John, and I broke our Good Friday fast together in the church kitchen around the little table, with a bowl of leftover soup and gentle friendly conversation, none of it about the church. I had intended to eat a small amount alone; their invitation to a much finer meal than I had planned was a Gift of Grace.

And so, on to the Day.

It occurred to me as I arose this morning that I could help my friend a little. The Rector desires that we set up the extra chairs that will be needed for the 9:00 during the fifteen minutes before it (and after the 7:45). As we struck the chairs last night, I could discern that John was worried about this – rightly so, for the chairs must be hauled upstairs by hand from below. I could see him attacking the job too vigorously – John is no longer young, and has had a heart attack – so I was worried, too. So “by chance” the thought came to me that I could pre-position the chairs at the top of the stairway, on the little porch beside the church door next to the Steinway. And so I did; a little twenty-minute bit of work that will ease John's day.

9:00 am – A snappish rebuke from someone moments before this service made me angry. I began the “Glory to God” (899 in Wonder, Love and Praise, the Black Gospel setting) in anger, harshly and too fast. And I realized that the young family of a former chorister was in the front row, their youngest daughter, who is likely to be in the choir in a couple of years and plays piano, right at my side, watching me very closely. I tried to settle down, and did so in time.

I must do better about this sort of thing, remembering the One who patiently bore a lot more than snappish rebukes and “never said a mumblin' word,” as the spiritual says. The Scriptures of this day said that I am dead to sin and alive in Christ. I must live this way, today and every day, if not for my own soul's salvation, then for the sake of these children and others who are watching.

10:00 am – Quick turnaround into the choral rehearsal with brass and continuo strings; John helps me set the chairs and music stands; the players arrive as the 9:00 congregation exits. The rehearsal goes well, the service goes well. Several people say kind words about the music, both today's and last night's – and one person commended the Good Friday anthem, which I did not think we did very well. The Piéce d'Orgue went well last night, and I repeated it as a prelude for both the 7:45 and 9:00 services. I recorded it, but I am not going to post it: a YouTube search turns up some 22,000 hits, and it does not need one more. But it means much to me that a couple of musicians whom I respect thanked me for playing it and said that it was good.

11:30 am – The highlight of the services for me was not anything musical; it was the Sacrament of Baptism for two of our young choristers, Lulu and Yaffa. At the console, I was at the opposite end of the church from the Font so I could not see them at all. But I could hear them; their child voices answering the questions, proclaiming that they renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness, and turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as their Savior. “Upon this rock I will build my church,” he said, “and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” As St. Agnes and St. Lucy (and many others) proved, a little girl's faith can be stronger than all the legions of the Empire.

The Rutter goes very well. It was a delight to conduct this and have it turn out all right.

5:00 pm – The Roman Catholics calculate the Three Days, or Paschal Triduum, to begin after sundown on Maundy Thursday with the Mass of the Blessed Sacrament, continuing through the days of Friday and Saturday and ending with Evening Prayer on Easter Day. Thus, we scheduled it. I did not expect anyone to show up, but JF did. She had been a lector at the Vigil, but was unable to be at church on Sunday morning, and came for Evening Prayer. As it was a fine spring afternoon, we went into the courtyard for the liturgy, which centers on St. Luke 22 and the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

10:00 pm – And now we are done. I have worked in my office for several hours. I am depressed at the amount of work that lies ahead, with a large and complex funeral (involving two bishops) coming up on Saturday. I am tired; this was another sixteen hour day, and it was not enough. I did not even get everything put away from this morning, though I spent about four hours on that task. This evening, I would prefer to walk away from it all and not come back. But what about that little girl in the front row at the 9:00, or Lulu and Yaffa, whom I pledged this morning to support in their life in Christ?

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As I have occasionally mentioned, I once attended Duke University. In those days, I was in the bleachers for every home basketball game, excepting the semester that I was in Vienna. My keychain commemorates their 1991-92 back-to-back championships. I was much taken up with the players who after some disappointing years won the 2010 championship.

This year, I have hardly paid attention at all, other than noting that three of the Duke starters are what many call “one and done” players – young men punching their ticket to the NBA by playing one year of college basketball. By most accounts, they are fine young people and I wish them well. But I do not much approve of this approach to winning at any cost, the way worthless sleazeball programs like Kentucky do, and I am unwilling to devote the time to following the team, not like I was with Singler and Scheyer and Smith and Zoubek and Thomas back in 2010. We no longer have a television, and I have not watched a single minute of any of their games this season. For one thing, I grew disgusted with NCAA basketball on television because it has become mostly a Commercial Message Delivery System.

But tomorrow Duke is in the national championship game. For old times' sake, I might stay up late and listen to it on the radio. That will indeed be like old times, when I was in junior high and high school, upstairs in my bedroom listening to ACC Basketball on my transistor radio.

But I am not sure who I will be rooting for. It might be Wisconsin.