When I look back over this Easter weekend, the most enduring image will not be of brightly-colored Easter outfits or banners or flowers and everything else that made Easter morning so festive.   I think what I will remember most vividly is the darkness and quiet of last night’s Easter Vigil.  For those of you who have never experienced one,  the Easter Vigil is an ancient tradition of the Christian church. The night before Easter, many Christians gather for a special service in which many of the greatest Biblical stories are read, for the purpose of reminding them of what the bedrock of their faith really is.  Typically the service begins very quietly and pretty much in the dark,  only to become gradually brighter and more joyous as the service proceeds.  If at all possible, there is also a baptism during the vigil, hearkening back to the days when (at least in some traditions) the only time baptisms were done all year was during the Easter Vigil.

My friend Walter Hermanns – who used to be Holy Communion’s Associate Pastor and is now their Pastor Emeritus – is almost single-handedly responsible for bringing the service to our congregation,  but it did not exactly take off like a rocket.  I, for one, thought the idea was CRAZY!  In a weekend that was already brimming with worship services, why would be willingly stir another one into the mix- – – and the night before Easter to boot!   But if Walter was willing to take this on, then there wasn’t much I could say or do to beg off, because it was just as busy a weekend for him as it was for me.  So I came aboard, grudgingly-  and tried to confine my grumbling to the narthex as I robed up for that first Easter Vigil.   And lo and behold,  I loved it!   I had actually participated in a Vigil many years earlier at a worship convention,  but Holy Communion’s was a bit simpler, briefer and friendlier – although Watler alsonaged to set just the right tone of reverence that is so important for a service like this.   And all these years later (13, 14, 15 years later?)  I am still honored and privileged to be part of it.

My main role from the start has been to lead the opening rite which is known as the  Lucemarium, in which the congregants are led into the dark sanctuary by someone  carrying the Paschal Candle, which is lit outside of the church.  (Usually some sort of bonfire is built.)    At three points in that journey,  I stop and intone the words “Light of Christ”  to which the congregants respond “Thanks be to God.”  This year I was especially aware of how silent the sanctuary is – and how beautiful that solitary flame is as it shines brightly and bravely in that otherwise completely dark place.  Once I reach the front of the sanctuary and everyone finds a place in the front pews,  I begin chanting something called the Exsultet, which is an ancient Christian hymn that recalls some of the most important moments in which God has reached out to creation.   As I sang it this year,  I was aware of the breaktaking simplicity of the moment-  a single, solitary, unamplified voice soaring into that room-  illuminated by the Paschal Candle beside me.  It was a scene that could have happened exactly this way a hundred years ago—- or even a thousand years ago—- and that made it all the more moving for me.  Eventually the light from the Paschal Candle is shared with everyone present, and the sight of those lit candles is as beautiful a sight as you will ever see.

One thing that has been an important facet of Holy Communion’s Easter Vigil right from the start is the participation of youth. . .  as readers, acolytes, and ushers.  I have never had the chance to ask any youth about this, but I strongly suspect that years later when they look back on tgheir years at Holy Communion,  this might be the service that stands out in their minds more than anything else, exactly because it is so “unplugged” . . .  so simple . . . allowing us the amazing sensation of walking with ancient Christians and experiencing the same sort of uplifting inspiration which they did in times even more uncertain and frightening than our own.

To be sure,  this year’s Easter celebration included many other wonderful moments. . .   especially the choir’s stunning performance of the Vaughan Williams’ Old Hundredth, with the brass trio lifting us to amainzg heights. . .   my wife’s beautiful and moving solo in “Resurrection,” which has been the musical centerpiece of every Easter at Holy Communion since 1988 . . . delightful fun with the youth choir and Sunday School choirs in “O Sifuni Mungu” with Kate Barrow leading them with her own inimitable joy . . .  my debut at the third service as a participant in the Gospel Processional, which until this year I had only seen from the back balcony, but which I experienced this year as a participant,  holding the Bible as Pastor Steve read the Gospel, with the entire assembled congregation surrounding us on every side . . .   the glorious pleasure of an afternoon nap, followed by a delicious Easter meal at Polly and Mark’s . . .  a rollicking game of “Scene It” , a Disney trivia game complete with DVD,  in which the highlight was how our young niece Lorelai made a point of holding hands with Grandpa Bob “for good luck”  every time they were about to be asked a new question . . . and of course the amazing moment at church when Lynn and Walter’s son Shawn complimented me on my spectacular, multi-colored Easter shirt and then said “I hope I manage to dress like you someday.”    Nobody has EVER said those words to me before, and I’m still wondering if I heard him correctly!

All of that was a more contemporary face of Easter…. but for me the most potent images of this year’s Easter are all from that Easter Vigil.    Who would have thought that something so ancient – so simple – could be so powerful?  There is a lesson there, I think, for a Church that is struggling mightily to remain relevant and which sometimes seems all too eager to slam the door on some of its most cherished traditions.  But maybe in this world of iPods and internet and GPS and reality television,  there is a part of us that hungers to touch the truly ancient.  And judging from all of the people who came to this year’s Vigil- perhaps our largest group yet- it may be more important than ever.

pictured above:   some of the assembled congregation during this year’s Easter Vigil.