The Real Thing!

 . . . If we can see it that way, that is what we have this year
The Real Thing!.
We are in the midst of the holiest of our days - The Sacred Triduum, The Easter Vigil, Easter itself.
It is also the time of Passover for our Jewish brothers and sisters.
The holiest of days in the whole Judeo-Christian world.
And this year some of the most unique days of our lifetimes!
We are not gathering in our churches or synagogues or temples.
From empty buildings services stream out via very modern technology into our homes.
We can watch. We can even respond prayerfully and if we feel the freedom, we can sing too.
Yet, truth is, we will feel isolated and, in fact, we will be isolated.
A tiny virus, invisible to the naked eye, has brought life as we know it to a standstill.
Any thought of traditional observances and gatherings are at a halt.
As we engage in these days, that ever ancient yet ever new question will resound with new meaning.
"Why is this night different from every other night?"
For so many years we have continued to observe the ancient rites and liturgies.
We know then, expect them, love them.
The fire . . .  and candle . . . "Rejoice, oh heavenly choirs . . . " and those seemingly never ending readings . . . and the water!
And is that the smell of garlic coming from those baskets? No baskets of food are creating their appetizing aromas this year.
And Passover Seders rely this year on pictures and substitute foods and families apart. How share the Matzohs this year?
Ah, yes!
We know the customs and traditions so, so very well.
This is the stuff of which Easter is made . . . and Passover.
Except this year.
Not this year!
This year we shut ourselves behind closed doors. This year we bolt tight our shutters. This year we huddle together with our closest, most loved ones.
Or we sit alone in the darkness, peering out the window at that radiant full moon, the first full moon of springtime.
The Passover Moon!
It seems to be the only brightness in an intensely dark world this year.
This year we have a different kind of Easter, a different sort of Passover.
We shelter seeking safety in the confines of our own homes.
Out there somewhere is a danger, for some a potentially life-threatening danger.
The threat lurks there, unseen yet real, very real.
And that means that this year, instead of songs and rituals and ceremonies, we can actually experience!
Think about it.
That very first Passover, that night in Egypt, there was then a darkness filled with such mystery!
Slaughter a lamb; mark your doorposts with its blood.
And then stay inside!
What strange thing was happening "out there?"
There was the darkness and the sounds - wailing, weeping, cries and screams!
Confined to those chambers the ancient Israelites could only imagine and wait and pray and fear.
Death was out there!
They knew - they truly knew their need for a Saving God!
They experienced it.
That was the first Passover.
And on another night, some centuries later, another night of darkness.
There had been the shock - betrayal! trial! condemnation! cross! death!
And His disciples huddled together in that Upper Room.
The night of a Friday folded into the daylong night of the Saturday.
Out there was what - -  fear, danger, death, darkness!
Huddled together in that Upper Room they felt the unseen fear of the danger "out there."
And we, year after year in story and song and traditions we would recall their stories. It was ours to try and remember.
But truth be told, we always knew the end of the stories and so there was a touch of joy in the midst of tension and anticipated success in the stories of terror.
In years past we told the stories and sang the songs.
This year - well, this time it is different.
This year we are called to actually experience the moment.
Like those ancestors in faith of other times, today we live behind closed doors, shuttered windows. There is an unseen terror out there, powerful, potentially deadly.
And we have no where to go except to huddle in our Upper Room in the face of danger.
In our Upper Rooms this year we can experience our need for the One Who Saves.
We long for, hunger for, sense in a real way the emptiness we  can face without His Presence.
It has been observed that the best Evangelists are those who know -- who actually have experienced.
And this year we have been plunged into that experience.
We are not singing songs this year.
We are experiencing the real thing - the experience of those first disciples on that first Easter.
We need to hear those first words of that first Easter:
"Fear not!"