Easter Was Different From What I Remember
My family had a video conference to celebrate Easter.
When I was growing up, my family didn’t often attend church. My mother taught me about Jesus, and we read the bible together, but attending church service wasn’t a family tradition. However, on some Easters, we would go to church in Mississippi. My parents’ home state. My mom dressed my little body in a polyester suit with the clip-on tie. We all remember the ole clip on.
I remember sitting in the pew with a well picked fro and burning up from the heat. The a/c was running, but every window hung open. On Easter, everyone wore their best. The black women wore bright hats that rivaled the sun in brilliance.
The brothers wore suits in all shades and hues. The pocket squares or handkerchief had to match the tie. If those two items weren’t coordinated, then you were out of compliance with the dress code.
Songs escaped from throats I swore would bring Jesus from the heavens. Hands clapped in unison as melodies wafted across the rafters. The soloist’s voice seemed anointed by God. Each verse seemed to lift me from the pew.
The pastor adorned his pastoral robes and preached a message of renewal and salvation. He would start from a low and quiet voice, speaking about the resurrection of God. However, soon he was in the audience and belting his message to the congregation. Church members rose and yelled back at the preacher. Amen and hallelujah rose from the group in unison as the preacher hollered his message across the pews.
I watched as some people screamed and passed out as they caught the spirit. Other church members rushed over to fan the fallen.
After the service, several old ladies in the back of the church fixed plates of soul food. Collard greens, fried fish and chicken, black-eyed peas, cornbread, and pound cake, were passed out in styrofoam plates to the hungry masses. Folks went home with their souls and bellies fed.
That’s the Easter I remember growing up in the South. Steaming pots of gumbo and crawfish bisque scented my mother’s kitchen as various family members stopped by for a plate. However, now I must maintain my distance from family because a virus decided to fracture our usual human connections.
This year we can’t crowd churches with our fellow worshippers. I understand the fellowship we all feel as Christians. Being together on Easter with family and friends is a tradition that goes back generations. But this year, we are being told to stay home because of a global pandemic.
Our lives changed overnight. Less than two months ago, we couldn’t fathom working from home and trying to educate our kids from our kitchen table. The industrial machine turned off like a light switch. One of the most substantial economic machines in the world now laid dormant.
I understand how difficult it is to stay inside. There is only so much streaming you can watch. Sooner or later, we all go a little stir crazy with cabin fever. We want to get out, and not going to church on the holiest day of the Christian calendar only adds to the stress. We want to see family and have awsome family dinners.
My family and I were wondering how to make it easier to get together while adhering to physical distancing. My mother in law is over 60, and my wife and son are in a high-risk group, so we must adhere to strict guidelines to protect our family.
After much thought, we decided to do a video call. It was wonderful. We drank and sang karaoke. I performed a very humorous and memorable James Brown that made my family laugh. To hear that laughter amid all the stress on our family was a blessing.
Yes, we weren’t together in the physical sense, but our love for each other poured from our respective screens.
I know a video call isn’t the same as sitting in front of each other. I know a virtual church service doesn’t adequately replace listening to a live pastor and singing in a house of worship.
However, its what we must do to protect the most vulnerable in our population. Its common knowledge that America has more deaths and infections than any other country on this planet. A small gathering in a church can spread disease among several people.
I wanted to attend church on Easter morning. I wanted to eat with family members. My eight years old would love to participate in an egg hunt or go to church as I did in my earlier example. We all want to do our regular holiday events.
However, this pandemic won’t last forever. It will pass. We will attend Easter services next year and listen to the word of God. Feasts will adorn tables.
Unlike in 1918, the last global pandemic. We have social media and different types of technology. I hope we all took advantage of that and called our uncles, aunts, grandpas, grandmas, sisters, and brothers this holiday. We can at least see faces and allow family members to see each other in real-time. In this time of fear and unknowns, we can offer comfort through virtual celebrations with each other. A call can go a long way in the best of times, but now in the jaws of trepidation, a virtual human connection can go a long way.
Life may never be the same again after this pandemic. Mental, emotional, and spiritual damage is coming in the aftermath. The rebuilding is going to be painful as we emerge from our homes after weeks of lockdown, but I hope over all our nation is better for it.
I hope all that read this stayed home this Easter and used alternative methods to contact their family. Attending church or an event is not worth another possible death or illness.
Easter is a time of renewal and promise. We can offer hope and protection to our friends, family, and essential workers by staying home. I pray Easter was a blessing to you and your family. Thanks for reading and remain healthy and safe.
Estacious(Charles White) is a 23-year educator. He began writing over 25 years ago. His work experience encompasses managing schools and teaching a variety of subjects. His passions are poetry, short fiction, playwrighting, and non-fiction. He won one of six prizes in the Rockford play festival for his play “Incarcerated Christmas.” He is married with three children and a native of New Orleans.