Easter, spring, and resurrection

It's April 16th, Easter Sunday, and hard to believe spring began about a month ago. The temperature in Oslo today is no higher than about 40 degrees Fahrenheit, and during the night it was below freezing. It is supposed to remain cold like this for the next week or so. And that's put a dent in some of my plans for the garden. It's been too cold to spend a lot of time there (I'm usually there for three or four hours when I first set out to do some work), although I have been there several days this past week to clean up a bit more and to check on the tulips and crocuses I planted last fall. They have poked their heads up but it's been slow going. I just hope that the berry bushes that have begun to sprout new leaves won't be affected by the freezing cold.

There is nothing to be done about the weather. It never behaves as you would like it to. A month ago the temperature was closer to 60 degrees Fahrenheit and it was a warm sun that shone down on those of us working in the garden. I have used this past week (I took the entire Easter week off) to do other things--finish my Norwegian and American taxes, clean the house, wash curtains and blankets--in other words--tasks that I never have the time for when I am working full-time. So that's been good. I have no problem filling my time. There is still a list of chores to be done.

I have also spent some time reading the Acts of the Apostles in the New Testament, and must admit that I've really enjoyed reading this account of the early days of the new church with Simon Peter as its head. As I've read it, I've consulted the National Geographic magazine issue Jesus and the Origins of Christianity (https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/1683306775/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o01_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1),
specifically the maps showing the places that both Jesus and the Apostles frequented, in order to get a feel for how things 'looked' at that time. I'm glad to have finally run across publications that present the history of the early church. It has given me a new perspective on how things that we take for granted came about. I got a taste of this in college in one of the theology courses I took, where we spent part of the semester studying the evolution of the early church and the various movements that sprang up within it, all competing for power and authority.

We celebrate the resurrection of Christ at Easter time. It is no coincidence that Easter and spring are coupled together. The resurrection of life in nature--trees, flowers, bushes--is a miracle that happens each year. Even if you were not a spiritual person, you'd have to marvel at the beauty of this occurrence each year. As I grow older, it is the natural world I feel more drawn to, and less to the world of commerce and work. I suppose if I looked hard enough at the latter, I would find something that would trigger a spiritual awakening. But I find that to be too much work; frankly speaking, most of the work world has little to do with spirituality and the quest for a better self. It mostly has to do with competition, power, prestige, and greed (it makes me laugh when I realize that you could be the top leader in a department during your work life, but when you retire and have been gone for some years, no one will really remember you--new generations overtake the old--that is the way of work life and more people should remember that in their manic craze to get to the top and to stay there). It is easier in nature to see what God intended for our lives, especially where the miracles of life and rebirth are concerned. The rebirth in nature shows us that we can be reborn each year as well; it is never too late to start anew. It is comforting to know that there is a resurrection of life each year, around this time, and that we can count on that in the years to come.

Reflections at Easter time

Each year around Easter time, there is a feeling of spring in the air. I remember that feeling growing up; the sun feels a little warmer, the birds are singing, the trees are showing small little buds, and whatever snow is still on the ground is melting, forming small rivulets that wander off to nowhere in particular. The puddles reflect the blue skies and the few white clouds that dot the sky. I enjoy taking a long walk at this time; life is returning, after a long, dark, cold winter. The older I get, the less I enjoy winter. It wouldn’t matter if I was a skier (I’m not); I prefer the warmth of spring and summer, and even autumn, especially in New York where it can sometimes still be mild in early November. I understand why older people prefer warmer climates; it’s not just about the warmth, although that’s a big part of it. It’s about the sunshine, the light, the feeling of renewal, the ease of life. Summer’s warmth is a reminder that life doesn’t have to be so hard, that you’re allowed to take it easy. Winter is the opposite—a constant reminder that life is hard, harsh and unsympathetic, that you have to struggle to accomplish each little thing in front of you. Just having to wear layers of clothing to protect against the cold is already too much for me. I remember disliking that even as a child, having to put on and take off snowsuits and sweaters underneath. I suppose weather forms a person; if so, I much prefer the person I am in summer. The winter person is merely waiting to be reborn as a summer person. I suppose that all the seasons have their charms; I grew up in an area of the world that experiences four seasons. Oslo is the same, except that winter is a longer season here than in New York. As I get older, I wish winter was shorter.

One of the memories that always comes back to me when I think of Easter is when I lived in the Bronx in my early twenties, and was to spend Easter Sunday with my parents, who lived in Tarrytown and who had invited family for dinner. I didn’t have a car at that time, so I took the subway into Manhattan and then took the train from Grand Central to Tarrytown. I remember the feeling in the city on Easter Sunday; it was a gorgeous sunny day, flowers were in bloom, people were dressed in their Easter finery and everyone seemed just a little happier than usual. Grand Central Station was teeming with people on their way to different places. It’s a memory that warms me when I think of it; I don’t know why it has stayed with me all these years, but it has.

I am not working this week, the week before Easter. It is wonderful to have those free days—no stress, no deadlines, no duties, no having to be somewhere at a certain time. Being able to go outside for a walk when I want, or waking early, lying in bed and listening to the birds sing or squawk outside our bedroom window. Or tackling the myriad of small house projects for which I suddenly have the time and energy. The word resurrection comes to mind; this time of year is about that too in the spiritual sense, and it is nice to be reminded of that in the church services on Easter Sunday.

Good Friday and Easter Sunday

This is the third year I have attended Good Friday services at Gamle Aker church, a Protestant church that is very close to where I live in Oslo. The church was built around 1080 AD, making it the oldest building in Oslo. It is a beautiful old church with a lot of atmosphere—massive stone columns around the nave of the church that give it an air of being an ancient building. When you step into the church, you walk along a dark and cool aisle that leads to the altar; chairs have been placed on either side of the aisle for parishioners. The church is devoid of statues or any decorations save for a few candelabras on the altar. The service for Good Friday is divided into two parts: the first part is the passion and suffering of Christ, with a lot of readings interspersed with relevant songs from the choir which stands on the altar together with the priest. This part of the service ends with parishioners being able to stand or kneel before a crucifix so that they can pray or touch the feet of Christ, much as we do in the Catholic Church on Good Friday. But the thing that most surprised me and has kept me coming back is the second part of the service; this is a symbolic burial of Christ after he is taken down from the cross. The crucifix is placed on the ground in a circular area behind the altar, and parishioners are encouraged to take a flower and place it on the ‘grave’, then the priest says a few prayers and the service concludes. I found this part of the service to be incredibly poignant the first year I was part of it. It felt so real, and so sad, and that of course is the point of it. It is to make you realize that Christ died and was buried in this way. Experiencing this in a church from 1080 also has the effect of placing you that much closer to the actual event in history; at least that is how I ended up feeling, and I was glad for the experience.

On Easter Sunday I attended mass at St. Olav’s Catholic Church. I happened to attend the high mass, which is a mass sung in Latin or Norwegian, or in this particular case, both languages. It was a joyful celebration of the resurrection of Christ; the day was sunny and warm, the church was full of people, and the priest gave a very good sermon about doubt, the scientific search for evidence of Christ’s resurrection, and the importance of faith. His words struck a nerve; this is how I have been feeling lately. I see how important having faith is, much more important than having scientific explanations and evidence for everything that we doubt or that we meet with skepticism. Doubting Thomas comes to mind; Christ had a lot of patience with him but did tell him that some people had faith and did not need to ‘see’ what Thomas needed to see. Some things in this life are mysteries that we will never be able to explain. Love is one of them. We do not require explanations for why we love or why we are loved; as soon as we start to dissect love it can very well disappear or become merely banal. We trust another or others with our heart, with our love, and we take a leap of faith to do that—whether it is romantic love or friendship or charitable love. If we did not take that leap of faith, we could not give or receive love. We can gather as much knowledge about another person as is humanly possible; still that person is a mystery to us and will remain so until the day we die. We will have learned a little about that person but not everything. This does not stop us from loving. How important this is for me to remember when I doubt my faith; that I love and am loved. If I can experience love, then I can have faith and I can trust that Christ’s life and death have meaning for me and for our world. This is the Easter message and it has become a very important message for me.