Baptisms Easter Sunday
My first praise of the day: we had electricity at 4:45 am so I could make coffee in my room before leaving for an early-morning service with a group of missionaries. One highlight: a family of four sang a song in harmony with bluegrass-style guitar. We ended with a breakfast feast which included cinnamon rolls, mmm. I also got to connect with some people I've never really talked to before, nice.
Then my church -- the pastor read a message from the Monsignor, including how to place our hope and trust in God in a country that had the January 12 (2010) earthquake and then cholera, and in a world that just experienced the Japan earthquake and new civil wars. I also had time to reflect on the fact that whoever thought that choir robes should be adopted in a Caribbean nation was nuts.
As I write, my neighbor's church is baptizing people in the ocean near me with lots of celebratory music. A British acquaintance was standing next to me for awhile. In the pageantry of the baptisms he saw tools used to placate and cheaply entertain people. He also commented that it was ironic that in a symbol of cleansing, people are actually dipping into what amounts to a cess pool. It is icky -- it's always icky, and we see people swimming in it every day. But I thought: well, baptism is symbolic of being baptized into Christ's death and then being raised with him, maybe that's not so inappropriate.
The best part of the day? Greeting everyone for Easter, hearing stories of how they have celebrated. Where I live everyone still has to work today, but they all had stories of special things done at church last night or this morning that made them smile. We take time out to watch the baptisms, comment on the music, greet each other with kisses and "Happy Easter." We share brief comments on what it means that Jesus is risen.
And I sit here in the shade, enjoying the ocean breeze and the blue sky, looking at a hummingbird, a fully-laden mango tree, and two other flowering trees, trying to grasp what it really means that death is no more. That it has really been conquered. That the beautiful things that we see in the world are part of the future breaking in to the present, they are the presence of the kingdom that is here and not yet. In Friday's sermon the pastor spoke of the cross, and one of the things he said was that the cross has crushed the power of darkness (kwa a te kraze tout fòs fenwa). This is clearly a "here and not yet" in a land of cholera, malnourished kids, bursts of violence, denuded mountains. But that's what I see. Because this is also a land of flowers, of beauty, of dignity, and of laughter. Alleluia! He is risen!
