Lent Day 40: Easter Vigil in the Eternal Now

Even before I became a Christian I held a special reverence for the span between Good Friday and Easter Sunday.  A lot of that is because I respect and honor holidays for other countries and cultures, even if they don't pertain directly to me... it's part of being a citizen of the world, as well as of this nation.

But the special reverence for Easter Vigil was because so many of my friends observed it.  It's a somber time between the ultimate sacrifice of Good Friday and not knowing if the Resurrection will occur, let alone when.  Two millennia later we celebrate it to be true on Easter Sunday, but each year we spend these days (the Triduum) in special memory of those three days of not knowing in that specific year.  And this is more true for the New Me, the post-baptismal me, than before.

I've used the terms Old Me and New Me rather loosely throughout this Lenten blog to refer to two distinct parts of my life:  before and after my baptism.  But I didn't intend for these terms to refer solely to the chronological time period before and after September 1985.  For one thing, I didn't more fully understand my own baptism until a few years later by taking a few Crossings classes, which I've referred to as my own Confirmation (Affirmation of Baptism) classes.

But even after a fuller understanding of my baptism ("cleansing" from the Greek) and tying my death to Christ's death and thereby gaining new life with the Resurrected Christ -- a lot of the Old Me persists and sometimes even thrives since 1985.

Oh, I try to be good and "do the right thing" and treat people well as much as I can, and that includes folks who are familiar and unfamiliar, liked and not-as-liked.  I believe that such behavior was in me long before my baptism, almost like it was written onto my heart and in my DNA and long before I had even learned the Ten Commandments.  But it's that I can't do all the good stuff all the time, or even just some of the time.  I still remember countless times when I've done thoughtless things, or said something hurtful -- which is extremely easy for me because I love walking the fine line of sarcasm and constructive criticism, and cross that line more often than I'd like.

And even when I can say and do the right things and avoiding saying and doing the wrong things, I've repressed the underlying impulses.  People don't observe those failings because I'm playing those cards close to my vest (a skill I might be too good at), but they do exist, deep within me.  When I'm not good enough, it kills part of me.  And when I'm good enough (outwardly), it still kills part of me.  Even though it hasn't killed me, it is killing me... it's the sting of death, and dying.

I started this Lenten blog pondering death and dying, and it literally started with a funeral and discussions about mourning rituals.  I don't know what actually happens after physical death, and the rational side of me simply cannot prove or disprove anything about it.

But what I do know is that the sting of death is what I feel right now.  I feel it so very acutely during this Lenten time between Maundy Thursday (the Last Supper and the "Eleventh Commandment" or the Great Commission) and Easter Sunday.  And I know that the Good News on Easter Sunday is that the new life in the Resurrection (to which I'm linked because of my baptism) directly addresses the dying and sting of death, right here and right now.  It's how I become renewed... because Christ's victory over death vanquishes the sting of death through the "Sweet Swap" on the Cross of God's goodness for my failings.  The energy required to stifle the bad impulses is no longer coming from me, but from the Cross.  It's how I can make it through the day, or through the night, and be at peace with myself, because through Christ, God has made peace with me.

I fight this battle all the time, every day of my life, every hour of every day even if I'm not actively thinking about it.  I never win the battle by myself, but each day is victorious because of the "Sweet Swap."  I live in a "time paradox" of the simultaneous Old Me and New Me, and of the simultaneous Vigil after the Crucifixion and waiting for Easter Sunday.

I'm in the Vigil of the Eternal Now.


(Blessed Lent to all... Easter Sunday's coming.)


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