Preparations underway for Easter

We are now in the middle of Holy Week. The word “holy” shouldn’t cause alarm; it simply means “Consecrated to God,” as these days are especially so. This holy week is narrated extensively in all four gospels, from Mark’s and Luke’s four chapters, to Matthew’s six chapters, to John’s seven chapters. Those of us who follow a liturgical calendar constantly circle through the life of Christ to imitate his works, contemplate his words, and learn from him. The past five weeks, we have been in the metaphorical wilderness of Lent. Like Jesus had this time of prayer and fasting, so also have we. “By the solemn forty days of Lent, the Church unites herself each year to the mystery of Jesus in the desert … and re-reads and re-lives the great events of salvation history in the today of her liturgy,” (Catechism #540, 1095). Our Mass Scripture readings and hymns have centered on repentance, prayers, returning to our first love, and “girding up our loins” for living the Christian life in obedience to God. The forty-day time period for this season is symbolic of probation and testing, linked to the flood, Moses’ fast on Mt. Sinai, Israel’s desert journey, the twelve spies’ inspection of Canaan, the Philistine oppression, Elijah’s fasting, Nineveh’s opportunity to repent, and of course, Our Lord spent forty days in the wilderness. We’re in good company!

A meaningful component of Lent in our family is praying through the Stations of the Cross. Usually done at home by our popsicle stick stations, this year we made to all but one of our church’s Friday evening “Soup and Stations,” where we meditate on important moments of the Passion, from Jesus before Pilate to his burial in the tomb. Following the Stations of the Cross has a long history that evolved over time. Tradition holds that Mary often visited her son’s final steps (I certainly would have) and when Constantine legalized Christianity, markers were erected. Jerome (AD 342-420), who lived in Bethlehem in his later years, mentioned pilgrims visiting those holy spots on the Way of the Cross. In the fifth century, reproductions of the Via Dolorosa (“Sorrowful Way”) were constructed for the faithful who could not travel to Israel to have depictions for their devotions. Even more reproductions were built when Muslim Turks blocked access and veneration of these precious areas. The fourteen stations we use now have been fixed since 1731.

My younger children, aged 11 down to 4, have spent much of their free time this Lent filming themselves acting out each station, directed by our fourteen year old daughter. It is a grand accomplishment — and adorable in its aberrations.

The 6-year-old announced himself as “Pompous Pilate” and tossed a pink feather boa around his white toga. The 14-year-old (who knew it was “Pontius” but thought it was cute) typed it that way on the “credits” page. So there it reads.

That same 6-year-old doubled as a Roman soldier with his 9-year-old brother. They cobbled together costumes from sparring gear, underwear, and shiny silver remnants from my scraps basket. They constantly kicked each other on the shin guards and there are several scenes with one of them giggling and the other grimacing.

The 11-year-old, as Jesus, smiled way too much.

I got to play the Blessed Mother and my director daughter insisted on my wearing a blue Navajo blanket over my head because “She’s always depicted in heavenly blue and that’s the only big blue thing we have.” So I do.

The 4-year-old got to be Veronica and wipe the face of Jesus. This episode is not found in the New Testament but is a miraculous story passed down through the millenia. She tenderly touched his face with her white cloth, then turned around and hollered, “Oh my gosh!” as my kids did some camera trick and turned it into the face of Christ. It sounded far too much like a hipster OMG for my liking but I let it slide.

They hit a wall last week when the 11-year-old refused to film station 10: Jesus is stripped of his garments. We figured out to film it artistically, with just his head showing and the camera focusing on a soldier waving the robe around. He agreed. Stations number 11 and 12 (Jesus is crucified and Jesus dies) were done the same way, with only his head on camera. Then there was station 13: Jesus is taken down from the cross. No bare chest said the boy. We came up with a Pieta-like pose, with the scene opening on me as Mary, already holding his body wrapped in my blue Navajo blanket.

They wanted to film a bonus scene, the Resurrection, but that one went south and they haven’t figured out a way to do it acceptably. They filmed Jesus bursting out of the grave (our hall closet) and punching out the Roman soldiers with a stick to light-saber sound effect swooshes. I put my foot down on that one and they have yet to figure out their new vision.

So we’ve been in the wilderness with Our Lord and we have Holy Week before us, a week of moving liturgies for the Last Supper, Good Friday, Silent Saturday, and then the most glorious service of all – the Easter Vigil. We are going to make it through the desert. After all, we know the end of the story!

“This is the night when Christ broke the prison-bars of death and rose victorious from the underworld! O wonder of your humble care for us; oh love, oh charity beyond all telling (from the vigil proclamation)!”

Allison Howell and her family are longtime residents of the Valley. They are Catholic converts and keep a hobby farm full of animals and children.