Peace be with you, friends. I just wanted to drop you all a short note as we enter into the Sacred Triduum. You are all in my heart and prayers during this unusual celebration of Christ’s triumph over sin and death.
We have been busy cleaning today in preparation for our annual observance of the Three Holy Days. This morning I hid thirty pieces of silver (well, they were dimes from the change jar) all about the house, and in their zeal to find them the children did a fairly thorough job of cleaning: dusting under the fruit bowl and on top of the picture frames, sweeping under the beds and tables, scrubbing behind the bread box in hopes of finding all the coins.
Now the eggs are boiling as we finish up and begin to cook the evening meal. It echoes the Passover meal as best we can manage, though pickings were slim at our rural shop and we’re making do with what we have. I found a bit of lamb and some pita bread in the freezer; we have some grape juice and celery and plenty of fresh eggs. It’s not a proper Seder, but it isn’t meant to be; it reminds us of the foundations of the Eucharist, and God’s faithfulness to his people.
After chores tonight we’ll watch the live-streamed Mass from St. Patrick’s Cathedral, and then light the candles around our own Throne of the Sacred Heart to watch for one hour with Him. Often the little ones fall asleep under His gaze; and while a few of our number will drag off to bed, most will sleep in heaps about the family room, waiting with Jesus until the hens cry out in the morning.
We’ll wake to hot cross buns – or at least something like them, given that dried fruits are hard to come by and yeast isn’t to be had. We’ll have to participate in His Passion from afar, watching again on the television and replicating the Veneration of the Cross in our own home. In the quiet of the afternoon we’ll make pretzels and ponder that feeling of empty yearning.
On Saturday we’ll make what we can of the Easter feast, working in hushed excitement. We’ll dye the red eggs, and bake mazurek, and slaughter the lamb for Sunday dinner. We’ll watch the Vigil broadcast from New York again, and bless the house with holy water. The children love to ring bells, and my beekeeper is looking forward to lighting the candle she made at Candlemas. The Lord will have risen, whether the modified babka turns out or not.
Things are different this year, but we were made for this; we are the Church and we have made a home where Christ is King. Until we can come together and receive the Sacraments again, it falls to the domestic church to bear faithful witness within the confines of our homes. He shall come again and make all things new. Be not afraid!
I shall write to you again, Godwilling, on the other side of Easter. I hope that these unique circumstances will be a chance for your family to delve deeper into the richness of the faith in our homes, and trust in Christ alone. May you be blessed today and always.