Letter from Amy: April 30, 2025

Dear Incarnation,

Happy Easter! Yep, that’s right . . . it’s still Easter! As a wise friend often reminds me, in the family of God “the feasts always outlast the fasts.” The resurrection joy of the Easter season extends a full 50 days, all the way to Pentecost, longer than the 40 days of Lenten wilderness. This is a season for feasting, flowers, color, light, alleluias, bells*, dancing!

(* I’ve heard from a number of folks about the renegade egg shakers in last Sunday’s service, and I’m sorry for the loud distraction! They were intended to be put away before our worship began, but the new sound system installation made for a chaotic transition before the service, and a few stray shakers made their way into some very exuberant hands. Nobody wants to be the egg shaker police, but parents, we’d appreciate your help in reminding kids to practice a quiet jubilation until communion!)

Often, though, the world still looks a lot like a Lent even on this side of Easter. Sometimes we don’t feel like dancing, ringing bells, and shouting alleluias. But the resurrected God is still at work in our world, whether or not we feel particularly Eastery. Jesus is unsettling death, untangling the cords of oppression, and undoing all the enemy’s works. For as long as this world is in the grip of evil, Easter will often feel more like disruption than ease, and our joy will always be tempered with sorrow.

And maybe, for that reason, there’s actually something deeply true about the experience of confessing our sins to the disruptive sound of children egg-shaking. One day all our sins and sorrows will be swept up in a great rumble of resurrection joy, once and for all. (That said, I still stand by the apology and request in the * above! And yet I also believe that God is often speaking to us through what seem like interruptions.)

Along these lines, our vestry warden Katie Foran shared a beautiful choral piece and its background with the music team today, linked at the top of this post. It’s called Alleluia, composed in 1940 by Randall Thompson. Though he was known for joyful, boisterous pieces, Thompson was grieved by the war in Europe, and the moment felt inappropriate for composing something festive. Instead, he said that this Alleluia was intended to be:

“a very sad piece. The word ‘Alleluia’ has so many possible interpretations. The music in my particular Alleluia cannot be made to sound joyous. It is a slow, sad piece, and . . . here it is comparable to the Book of Job, where it is written, ‘The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord.’”

What a beautiful description of the disruptive, slow, often sad rumble of resurrection working its way through all the world’s evils. We’ll join that rumble again on Sunday. And I invite you to listen and look for it all around you in the days ahead.

Finally, here's a poem that Josie shared with me that captures all of this more beautifully than I ever could. Praise God from whom all music and poetry flow!

A Prayer in Spring

by Robert Frost

Oh, give us pleasure in the flowers to-day;

And give us not to think so far away

As the uncertain harvest; keep us here

All simply in the springing of the year.

Oh, give us pleasure in the orchard white,

Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night;

And make us happy in the happy bees,

The swarm dilating round the perfect trees.

And make us happy in the darting bird

That suddenly above the bees is heard,

The meteor that thrusts in with needle bill,

And off a blossom in mid air stands still.

For this is love and nothing else is love,

The which it is reserved for God above

To sanctify to what far ends He will,

But which it only needs that we fulfil.

Alleluia, alleluia, alleluia,

Amy

p.s. Please plan to linger for the parish meeting! Updates on finances, our team, the Maryland service, and my sabbatical — plus snacks!!