Easter is Easter

By JOHN HOWELL
Posted 4/16/20

A glow lined the horizon. The moon was bright above. It was Easter morning. But this Easter would be different from others. My routine of bundling up to catch the sunrise service at Warwick Light, which wind, rain and cold never canceled, was not to be

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Easter is Easter

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A glow lined the horizon. The moon was bright above. It was Easter morning. But this Easter would be different from others.

My routine of bundling up to catch the sunrise service at Warwick Light, which wind, rain and cold never canceled, was not to be because of COVID-19.

From the lighthouse I would drive to Oakland Beach for the reenactment of the disciples encountering Jesus after his resurrection as they fished from the Sea of Tiberias, jointly performed by St. Rita Church and the First Congregational Church of Warwick. Held on the beach, parishioner children took on roles of disciples casting the net as Jesus instructs and then walk among those gathered with baskets of fish and bread bits.

It can be chilly. The “disciples” gathered around a beach fire, the audience wrapped in blankets and grateful for the morsels of bread and fish. But there’s always cheer, no matter the conditions at both services. The alleluia chorus from the hymn “Christ the Lord Is Risen Today” carries the day, even when I get home and we drive to my son Ted and his family for Erica’s traditional Easter hot cross buns, scrambled eggs and crisp bacon.

That wouldn’t happen this Easter.

Nonetheless, I didn’t want to miss the sunrise. Ollie was ready to greet the day, too. He looked ready to play and for a moment I thought he was off to find one of his pullies for an “Easter pull.” He bounded downstairs and reading the signal, I put him in this pen. When I returned, Carol was up.

She had her Bible. We would watch the sunrise. The sky was brightening. It would be another 10 minutes before the orange orb shone through the trees on the distant Barrington shore. The bay was tranquil, yet there was a chatter from the brant geese that followed the shore, diving to pull green weed from the shallows. A few gulls crossed overhead. An osprey purposely tracked the shore, or was it too early for osprey? We couldn’t be certain.

Carol opened and read: “I will feed my flock and save them.” The words were fitting given the flocks before us.

The night before, she conducted an Easter Zoom service with our son and his family in Hong Kong – it was Easter morning there – my daughter and her family in Wyoming and Ted and his family in North Kingstown. Carol planned for each of us to have a part, emailing a program in advance. My daughter Diana played the recorder, Jack and Ted read from the Bible. Carol had a Browning poem for me.

When Carol had finished the message and played the guitar, the talk inevitably turned to the virus and all that it has changed. Jack found a positive, turning the computer so we could get a view of his porch door. It was open, sunlight streaming in. He wouldn’t have been able to do that six weeks ago – the air pollution made it impossible. Hong Kong has about 1,000 cases of COVID-19 and fewer than a dozen deaths – remarkable for a city with a population at least seven times that of Rhode Island. Everyone wears a mask. Restaurants are open, but social distancing is strictly adhered to. Like islands, tables are separated. Gatherings are small. Might that be what we will see?

The family could leave Hong Kong, but it is unlikely they would be able to return. Jack has only visited his office a couple of times. He works from home. Diana’s husband, Scott, has closed the ski store in Jackson, although business would be brisk as those with cabin fever turned to cross country skiing. Scott didn’t want to risk the health of his employees. Diana is a physical therapist and can’t work under these conditions. Ted, an attorney, works at home.

We shared stories, wondered aloud whether we might come together as a family this summer. Jen pinned her hopes on July 4. There’s no way of knowing of course.

Yet there was comfort in the sunrise the following morning, listening to the babble of the geese, watching the heavens brighten and alleluia playing in my mind.

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