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Hallo again to all. Alleluia, Christ is risen!
Today is Low Sunday. Whether you want to call it Quasimodo Sunday, White Sunday, Orthodox Easter, St. Thomas Sunday, the end of the Octave, or the Second Sunday of Easter, it is that sleepy Sunday during which many wonder if the day is so titled for its low attendence. The solemnity of Holy Week is over, as is the pomp of Easter Sunday. We found ourselves in church for eight days in a row last week, and questioned if we can take a day off. Instead, we were reminded of the joys of a simpler worship. A 10 year old torchbearer didn't show up, so there was just one torch—which no one noticed until the procession lined up—and it was fine. Someone forgot to light the paschal candle, so it was quickly lit by the associate priest during the gloria—and it was fine. The young toddler who was to be baptized decided to show off her lung capacity as we prayed for those to be baptized and the celebrant summond her grandmother (which required the woman to wade through a crowd of preschoolers gathered to watch the baptism) to come hold her— and it was fine. There was no incense or a sanctus bell, the Eucharistic prayer was spoken, not sung, the choir's anthem was a unison hymn* sung lovingly straight from the hymnal. And though we remained tired, we rediscovered the core of Easter joy within us. And Mary was baptized. And the Eucharist was made and consumed. And Jesus is risen as He will be for the next 42 days, and He will continue to do until he comes again. When our hearts are saddened, grieving or in pain,
We'll see you next week, when it will still be Easter, Alleluia.
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