If you know me well, you know that I love Halloween. It's my favorite holiday because I firmly believe that anyone can celebrate it. Children can go trick-or-treating (in the US at least), adults have an excuse to throw a party (well, if we didn't have a pandemic), and EVERYONE can dress up as a fun character. I enjoy the decorations and I love handing out candy to trick-or-treaters. This year felt very different. We usually have 40-50 kiddos stop by for candy but I think this year we probably maxed out at 25 or 30. My spouse and I carved a pumpkin and I'm hoping to roast the seeds tomorrow. I have a super cute photo of the two of us with the jack-o-lantern but my husband dislikes having his photo taken and especially dislikes it being posted online so instead here's a good one of me with our jack-o-lantern:
I can't put my finger on it but even though we did all of the Halloween activities, it just didn't feel like Halloween. I blame the constant low-grade anxiety that the pandemic has caused.
What I'd really like to write about today is religion. A very brief background on my religious journey: I was raised Roman Catholic and was a practicing Catholic until about 6 years ago. I had an identity crisis when I realized that I didn't believe in transubstantiation (the belief that the communion wafer becomes 100% the body of Christ) and I instead believe in consubstantiation (the belief that the communion wafer is both fully the body of Christ and fully a piece of bread). Transubstantiation is a very central tenant of the Catholic faith. I didn't feel comfortable calling myself Catholic if I didn't believe in it. Being Catholic was central to my identity . . . but if I wasn't Catholic then who was I really? After a lot of crying, talking to my spouse, reading about religions, etc, I came to realize that my beliefs lined up with the Episcopal church. After some searching, we found an Episcopal church not far from us to attend and we've been active members there ever since.
Pre-pandemic, I really looked forward to going to church every Sunday. I love the time to reflect/meditate, the time without any technology (except for some microphones), the time to praise God, and some time to be social. I thrive on routine and I can react very poorly to sudden changes. You can imagine how hard it was for me to go from one Sunday saying to everyone in choir "See y'all next week!" to just a few days later not knowing when we would gather again. My church very quickly moved to online services and I've been pretty good about attending them. It's not the same but I even sing along to the hymns still. As time has gone by, I have been missing physically going to church to attend worship service more and more. Really, I've been missing the act of receiving communion.
About two months ago my church starting offering Sunday service in the parking lot with communion. As I mentioned in my previous post, I haven't attended because I wanted to make sure there were spots open for those who weren't comfortable doing the online service. Well, today my spouse and I attended the parking lot service. As I expected, I cried when I received communion (bread only, no wine). Six months is much too long to go without that very direct, very real connection to God. I was surprised that I started crying when we said the doxology:
Praise God from whom all blessings flow.
Praise Him, all creatures here below.
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host.
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost.
Those two moments, the doxology and the Eucharist, make me feel so connected to the world. The was especially powerful as today was celebrated All Saints Day. Every time I receive the Eucharist, I think about the people before me who received it, the people who are receiving it with me, and those who will continue to receive it long after I depart this world. I especially contemplate the short life of Imelda Lambertini who loved the Eucharist so much that, as the story goes, she passed away after receiving her first communion. Can you imagine having that love for God? Today I felt such joy in my heart to finally be in communion again with all the saints.
Tomorrow we celebrate All Souls Day. I am very fortunate to have only lost one friend since this time last year, Lisa F. I plan on saying a prayer for her tomorrow. I am also going to do something unusual for me and say a prayer for someone I never met. I will pray for Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Some may find this odd especially since, as a Jew, she did not celebrate All Souls Day. However, I think it is important that we pray for everyone, and I feel compelled to pray for Ruth because she is a person I deeply respect and for whom I want to give thanks to God.
I want to go on and discuss how Día de Muertos ties into All Saints and All Souls Day, how much that holiday also speaks to me, what an odd relationship I feel like I have with Death, and my belief that we all have three lives (the life on earth, the life after death, and the life we live as long as we are rememebered). However, I also appreciate brevity so I will leave with a small piece of one of my favorite poems, "Coplas por la Muerte de su Padre" by Jorge Manrique, translation by Thomas Walsh.
I
Recuerde el alma dormide, Let from its dream the soul awake,
avive el seso y despierte and reason mark with open eyes
contemplando The scene unfolding, -
cómo se pasa la vida, How lightly life away is taken,
cómo se viene la muerte How cometh Death in stealthy guise, -
tan callando; At last beholding;
cuán presto se va el placer; What swiftness hath the flight of pleasure
cómo después de acordado That, once attained, seems nothing more
da dolor; Than respite cold;
cómo a nuestro parecer How fain is memory to measure
cualquier tiempo pasado Each latter day inferior
fue mejor. To those of old.
II
Pues si vemos lo presente Beholding how such instant flies
cómo en un punto se es ido So swift, that, as we count, 'tis gone
y acabado, Beyond recover,
si juzgamos sabiamente, Let us resolve to be more wise
daremos lo no venido Thank stake our future lot upon
por pasado. What soon is over.
No se engañe nadie, no, Let none be self-deluding, none, -
pensando que ha de durar Imagining some longer stay
lo que espera For his own treausre
más que duró lo que vio, Than what today he sees undone;
pues que todo ha de pasar For everything must pass away
por tal manera. In equal measure.
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