Happy Easter

Busy days and nights. Mostly for the pastors and church staff, but to me too. I visited Corpus Christi University Parish last night for Easter Vigil. It started with folks gathering around Easter fire in the parking lot outside the church in the freezing cold and snow. Then, people came in lighting candles as a sign of Jesus Christ who was sent by God lighting the world.

What I love the most about candle vigils is that anybody with a burning candle would light the candles of people in their vicinity. Believers spreading the light and passion of their belief to others around. Belief is not something you hide or bury in yourself as a personal thing, as trumpeted and forced (undemocratically as a minority who just make much noise) by the advocates of secularism under the pretext of freedom, yet ironically trampling the freedom of expression of believers. If you really believe in freedom of religion, the solution is not suppressing anybody who believes in God from expressing their beliefs in public. True multiculturalism and freedom of religion should ensure anybody to be able to express their religious beliefs without the fear of being labeled or ostracized.

It's the light that God has poured into your heart and you gotta spread it to anybody around you. You cannot hide the light of God. And nobody could extinguish the light of God however hard they try. That's what He's affirmed in the Bible and Quran. He will flourish His light albeit infidels don't like it (61:8).

And yes, another similarity with rituals of Ashura. But here, it appears there's an extra element of tragedy in Shia culture and traditions of Ashura vigil, referred to as the Night of the (lonely) Strangers. After the noon of Ashura, when Yazid's mercenaries killed and beheaded anybody who could fight (or even the one who couldn't; i.e. Imam Hussein's six month old baby), they started looting, ravaging and burning the camp of the beheaded who had nobody to defend them. Children fled and sought refuge under bushes here and there.

And when the night fell, mothers had to look around for the orphaned children who had witnessed all the savagery of the day. And those mothers had to look here and there under the dim light of the cindering camp to fetch those frightened beaten frail kids. And at Ashura night, when mourners carry candles marching, they stop and squat every few steps as if looking under the bushes for those kids and again resume walking and so on. And while I held my candle over Easter vigil, I had no difficulty feeling genuinely tense remembering my candle vigils in Iran at the Night of the Strangers.

But here, the grief over Easter vigil wouldn't last long. After a few sober psalms and hymns, candles were put away and their light gave way to the lights of the church and the big candles at the altar, psalms grew happy little by little and then, came Gospel Acclamation and the baptism of the newly confirmed members.

I had seen baptism of babies in movies and when I was in Nicosia, I could once witness the baptism of a 2 year old baby at a historical Greek Orthodox Church (and I admit that it was so lengthy that was even beyond my patience, let alone the poor baby who was wailing all along the ritual). But now, I could witness the baptism of grown-up people in a Catholic Church.

Here, people would step in the modern three-tier granite baptismal font (its picture could be seen here) and would receive three sprinkles (actually pouring) of water over their head in the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit. It followed by anointing and then laying of hands and prayer and then the Eucharist and voila, all the grief of Easter vigil had already gone by this moment and everybody rejoiced the resurrection of Jesus Christ and their union with him. And then, a big reception followed with all sort of drink and food and yes, cookies, my very specialty.

On Easter, I carried on with my job at Hope Lutheran Church. And yes, it was the same jubilant church again as always with excellent altar decorations and floral and lots of beautiful songs, hymns and choir. And as Jesus was on the loose, the pastor invited everybody into Jesus life with a money-back guarantee; i.e. surrender to Jesus for 40 days and see what happens and if your life doesn't witness the spiritual presence of Jesus, they will return any and all money you have given to the mission of Hope.

And again, our conservative-cum-progressive pastor embellished his sermon with a movie clip to make his point. It was Dead Man Walking (quite a choice for Easter, eh?) and it showed the scene when the rapist/murderer (Sean Penn) collapses on his way to the execution chamber and then after the last talk by Sister Helen (Susan Sarandon) somehow comes to terms with his fate and resumes his frail walk and then comes the famous quote by the warden: Dead Man Walking. Just think of all the controversies around the film, analogies made, etc. Go figure.

Then, I rushed to Grace Lutheran Church for my next shift of observation (or actually was kindly driven to by one of choir singers, though he too had to start his second shift of singing at 11 o'clock service back at Hope). The altar was magnificent with all the floral and especially the Easter Lilies. There was a big lighted cross decorated with lilies. And all those flowers dedicated by the congregants in memory of the lost ones or in honor of the loved ones.

Fortunately, they had an interesting explanation in their prayer bulletin, which I quote here:

Each holiday is marked by cherished traditions that bring joy, comfort and warmth, and provide continuity from one generation to the next. Easter has its share of traditions: egg decorations and hunts, gift baskets and chocolate bunnies, sunrise church services, parades and of course, the Easter lily. For many, the beautiful trumpet-shaped white flowers symbolize purity, virtue, innocence, hope and life; the spiritual essence of Easter. History, mythology, literature, poetry and the world of art are rife with stories and images that speak of the beauty and majesty of the elegant white flowers. Dating back to Biblical lore, the lily is mentioned numerous times in the Bible. One of the most famous Biblical references is in the Sermon on the Mount, when Christ told his listeners: "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin; and yet ... Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these."

Often called the "white-robed apostles of hope", lilies were found growing in the Garden of Gethsemane after Christ's agony. Tradition has it that the beautiful white lilies sprung up where drops of Christ's sweat fell to the ground in his final hours of sorrow and deep distress. Churches continue this tradition at Easter time banking their altars and surrounding their crosses with masses of Easter lilies, to commemorate the resurrection of Jesus Christ and hope of life everlasting.

And as is the tradition with this traditional church, they had lots of Reading and Gospel along with numerous traditional yet merry psalms and hymns and of course a sermon on "Don't Settle for Less". And after the Communion and lots more of hymns and songs, came the Intercession with each prayer answered by: "your mercy is great".

Amen.

Good Friday 2007

Another interesting and yet odd experience. And this time, my problem was not just matching my daily schedule as a graduate student with my religious practice (the problem I had on Ghadir, Ashura and other Islamic important days). I have no classes on Friday.

This year, Good Friday coincided with the birthday anniversary of our Prophet. So, I had to integrate my religious practices (as a Shia Muslim) with my field observations (as a sociologist). Incorporating these totally different kinds of experience in the same day sounded weird to me; to feel jubilant at heart for the birthday anniversary of my prophet and in the meantime, to attend sober ceremonies for another prophet (who is also revered by Muslims; though in a different way).

I always wished to observe Good Friday ceremonies. It's equivalent of Ashura in Christian tradition. As an observant practicing Shia, I always felt that some of the traditions/beliefs in Ashura processions are not authentic; i.e. they have not been endorsed by our Imams and have been later on imported into Shia traditions somehow.

For example, carrying alam (a very huge wide heavy metallic highly ornamented symbol) during Ashura ceremonies has absolutely nothing to do with the battle of Karbala, Imam Hussein or Islamic traditions in general. Another example is self-flagellation which didn't (and doesn't) make sense to me as a proper way to commemorate the Passion of Imam Hussein (if I may borrow such a term from Christianity). And I always suspected that such rituals that make Ashura ceremonies look like a festival (rather than commemoration of a deep-rooted religious movement against a corrupt ruler), must have entered Shia traditions from somewhere else. My studies about Christian ceremonies later on gave me a hint about the possible origin.

Over recent decades, bigot enemies of Shia have used such traditions to make their case against Shia. Although the root of their enmity should be traced to their uneasiness with the revolutionary ideology of Shia (that started with the revolt of Imam Hussein against Yazid) and not merely some rituals, this has caused prominent progressive Shia scholars to seek to weed out such unauthentic additives and once again make Ashura the pure commemoration of what Imam Hussein gave his life over. I've written about this in a previous post.

Today, I started my conflicting daily schedule with prayers and salutations to the Prophet and his successor Imam Ali. Then, I went to Corpus Christi University Parish for Good Friday service at noon. It was a sober commemoration of Passion of Christ accompanied by very modest music and hymns. And I couldn't help but think that while Christians (who accompany their rituals with music) keep this one so simple, why Ashura ceremonies that by nature should be even more contemplative than Good Friday, have ended up blended with so much bizarre music (that in some cases isn't even solemn).

After recitation of the Passion and Intercession (prayers for problems worldwide, local and personal), came the Communion which was done around the Cross. The service finished with veneration of the Cross. The red band (straddling around the Cross) was stripped and people flocked around to pay they respect; some would kneel, some would kiss and some would just pray before the Cross.

Then, I proceeded to Good Friday Ecumenical Cross Walk. It started with an ecumenical service at Washington Church. There, the Passion of Christ (from Luke) was read by pastors from different Churches and a pastor from St. Michael's in the Hills Episcopal Church gave the homily. Even the hymns and songs had been selected from prayerbooks of different churches. Then, the Cross (that were made of tree trunks) was carried out along Central Ave to Hanmi Covenant Presbyterian Church. It was really heavy and several people had to carry it. The dedication of people in carrying the cross was remarkable and anybody tried to give a hand along the way and I couldn't help think about the same dedication to carrying the alam (or giving a hand to it) during Ashura ceremonies in Iran, Iraq and Lebanon.

Actually, observing this cross walk was the main reason that drew me to all this. However, I don't think what's written in the Bible quoting Jesus Christ as saying "anybody who follows me should carry his cross" should be taken literally. Carrying the cross means following Jesus Christ, standing fast for the word of God at all cost (even your life) and not budging in the face of calamities and obstacles. That's what all prophets have done. And that's what Imam Hussein did to keep the religion of his grandfather upright. And neither he nor any of his successors ever mentioned anything like carrying an alam to commemorate the battle of Karbala. Some Shia historians believe that carrying the alam has been adopted from Christian tradition of carrying the cross (and it sounds plausible to me).

At Hanmi, they laid the Cross in the altar and put nails on the hands of the Cross. Oddly enough, this spiritually difficult job (that could be distressing even to a man) had been assigned to two women, Pastor Amy Erickson (from Christ Presbyterian Church) and a UT student from Corpus Christi University Parish). After the brief sermon by the Korean Pastor of Hanmi Church, continuation of the Passion and a (not so brief, yet insightful) homily, the Solemn Intercessions began. At the end of each petition, a hammer would strike one of the nails in the cross. And this difficult job was done by our student (I asked her how she felt while nailing the cross; she said it to be distressing over the first strikes, but she managed to concentrate on the prayers and to feel easier as it went on). And again, all the hymns and songs during the ceremony had been selected from prayerbooks of different churches. At the end of the procession, people gathered around the nailed cross for prayer and contemplation and then left in silence.

But my job was not finished for the day. In the evening, I attended Hope Lutheran Church for Good Friday evening service. I was keen to know how this progressive always jubilant lively church would observe this thoughtful sober night.

The day before, I had attended their Maundy Thursday Service. What I found most interesting was their reenaction of the Last Supper. There, after Jesus Christ told his disciples that one of them would betray him, the reenactors started thinking aloud about the words of their Lord and almost everybody would end his thoughts with "Is it I?" doubting his own pure belief and dedication to Jesus Christ. Well, except for Judas Iscariot who was sure about himself! Playing with his pouch of silver coins, he mocked (in his thought of course!) the other disciples for their self-righteousness and then hypocritically doubting themselves, jeeringly repeating their line of "Is it I?" and then concluding he was the only one who wouldn't be a hypocrite, not doubting himself! And Judas was reenacted by one of my first friends (actually a brother in belief) when I arrived in Toledo and he happened to be the Youth (High School) Minister at Hope. An odd choice for Judas.

Upon completion of the service and stripping of the altar, the lights grew dim gradually and people left in silence (unlike other services and ceremonies that would always finish with a sending song or hymn). But what I observed over Good Friday evening service was even more interesting.

The service consisted mainly of Stations of the Cross and was accompanied by a touching power-point projection that would show contemporary problems in our world; the most interesting one showed that infamous photo of street execution of a Viet Cong suspect, a communist, by Saigon police chief while the reading was on Crucifixion verdict of Jesus Christ. Or on the third station where the cross is laid on Simon of Cyrene, one of the photos depicted the iconic scene from 911 where dust-covered FDNY and NYPD people carried an unconscious victim out of WTC rubble. Or on the fourth station (women of Jerusalem), they showed wailing Palestinian women and children. And each station was followed by very thoughtful prayers, all explaining what it means to follow Jesus Christ and to carry the cross in our time. At the end, the lights grew dim gradually and people left in silence.