All week, I have been attempting to work on a piece about Pascha for my friends and family who might not understand all the hoopla.  I mean, it’s pretty weird to go to church in the middle of the night…and then eat a feast at 3:00 AM.  It’s hard to believe that some of the non-Ortho folks out there in Cyber land are not scratching their heads and politely wondering in silence.  But my attempt at writing a piece describing the Paschal service has been difficult.  Writing anything of substance these days is difficult because my time is so often otherwise engaged.  This experience however, went beyond just a time crunch…if I really want to write something I always manage.  That Holy Week Guide is an example…I think that took about three days start to finish.  I was just trying to be too dry and scientific about the Pascha piece.  Jim can tell you (as can my parents probably) that I am as far from dry and scientific as East is from West.

Last night in the shower (why is it always the shower…do other people have significant revelations in the shower? It’s quiet in there I guess), I remembered how Jim and I used to do church when we were first coming to Orthodoxy.  Of course we were eager beavers and Jim is not the type to do anything halfway.  Accordingly, we made every effort to attend as many services as possible (we still do), but at the time, David was just too young to handle that experience.  In order to be at as many services as we could, we alternated attending.  Ana always went with one of us because she has loved church from the very beginning.  

On my nights to stay home, David and I would hang out and usually watch a movie.  We’re like two peas in a pod that way…I don’t like TV much any more, but I do enjoy good movies as does David!  When Ana and Jim would return home from weekday Vespers, I would often give Ana a hug and smell her hair.  It sounds weird to admit smelling someone else’s hair, but, well, I’ve admitted my weirdness before.  Smelling her hair on those nights was a particular treat.   As I inhaled pungent incense aroma mingled with the sweet smell of beeswax candles I realized…Ana smelled like church.  So often did I tell Ana that she smelled like church that when she would catch me smelling her hair at other times, she would ask, "Mama, do I smell like church?"

Pascha…it’s nearly indescribable.  We walk into a darkened nave, and wait.  We hear the joyous Paschal Canon ("Why do ye watch Oh watchman?" is probably my favorite line) and we wait until finally, finally…Father emerges from the Royal doors chanting "Come ye take light from the unwaning light and glorify Christ who arose from the dead," and then we all light our candles from that beautiful Pascha candle.  Our chance has arrived to start telling the world that Christ is Risen and so we process around the outside of the Church solemnly singing, "Thy Resurrection O Christ our Savior, The Angels in Heaven sing, enable us here on earth, To glorify Thee, with purity of heart."  This is the quiet joy of first recognition…much like the first time one locks eyes with a newborn babe…

When we return to the church all the lights in the nave are on, every candle is lit, the chandelier is swinging wildly about and the choir and people are no longer in that first quiet state of recognition…We lustily sing, "Christ is Risen from the Dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs, bestowing life!"  It is absolutely the closest possible moment to the realization of the prayer, "Thy Kingdom Come" I think I will ever experience on this side of eternity.  One wants to inhale deeply because it smells like heaven, like the eighth day.  And all the joy and sometimes even the absolute silly giddiness, the feasting in the middle of the night all makes sense….It is the dawning of the eighth day and joy has come.

I carry this joy with me as I go through Bright Week and even all the way through to Pentecost.  The light may grow a bit dim once I leave the Paschal season, but there is always that memory, "Christ is Risen!" to carry me through those moments when all seems bleak, because I know it won’t always be.  When I am on my knees in repentance throughout Lent, I know it is not just an exercise. It is part of the journey to Pascha.  And in some ways I realize that my whole life is that journey…to that greatest of Paschas that is to arrive for all…may we all be found watching and not sleeping in that moment.  And I should better recognize where I am in that shining moment, because I have previously had a whiff of it…