After over thirty years of deeply walking Holy Week, the Tridium, and the Day of Resurrection through the beautiful Episcopal liturgy as a priest, this Holy Week I have experienced the liturgy of the dying.
The Tridium of the dying.
Maundy Thursday. My mother’s last meal. My mother’s last time to sit in her prayer chair for Scripture, prayer, and coffee.
Good Friday. My daughter coming to be with her Grandma, reading aloud all of the kind words people had written in response to her blog, Grandma’s Chocolate Pie.
Holy Saturday. My brother and I, weary, moving slowly through day, doing only what was essential.
My youngest brother arrived with my dear sister in law about eleven that night, and we four laughed a bit as we shared stories. Together we then prayed the Episcopal Prayers at the Time of Death. He and his wife took the night watch so my middle brother and I could rest.
This early morning of the resurrection, I tended to my mother, and then stepped outside in her greening gardens, listening to the Easter hymn of my Baptist childhood, Up from the grave he arose.
The hymn starts slowly, somberly, quietly:
Low in the grave He lay
Jesus my Savior.
Waiting the coming day
Jesus my Lord.
Then everything changes: quickly, exuberantly, joyfully:
Up from the grave He arose
With a mighty triumph o’er His foes
He arose a Victor from the dark domain
And He lives forever with His saints to reign
He arose! (He arose)
He arose! (He arose)
Hallelujah! Christ arose!
As I walked the land we call the farm, there was beginng light and only the sound of birds singing.
Weary from yesterday’s vigil, everyone else was still asleep. It was quiet in the garden.
My heart was open.
It remains open as we await the resurrection of my mother.
Meanwhile.
Alleluia! Christ is risen.
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!
House of Grace 