Made to feast
Christ is risen! The Lord is risen, indeed! Alleluia!
We’re eight days into Eastertide—the 50-day feast celebrating Christ’s resurrection—and I am still smiling at the over-the-top, raucous joy of our Easter morning celebration. But surely I am not the only one who has to admit that, even in the midst of the joy and wonder at what Christ has done, the thought of maintaining that noisemaker-blowing, Alleluia-screaming level of energy for 50 days is just plain exhausting.
I mean, is a 50-day-long feast really possible?
With all the urgent things that need tending to, is feasting really necessary?
With all the unrest that surrounds us, with all the conflict in and out of our churches, with all the darkness and death and evil in this world that doesn’t take a break for Eastertide…is feasting even appropriate?
The still-beating heart of our Risen King who even now is remaking all things through his resurrection life would give a resounding yes.
In feasting, we remember that what we see is not all there is. We declare that hopelessness will not have the final word. Because Christ is risen, all that he is, all the good things he promises—redemption, peace, abundant life, joy, reconciliation—are the inevitable things. Renewal by his blood and in his name, not loss and decay, is the truest story of the cosmos.
I have noticed in recent years that more and more believers are reclaiming the ancient practice of Lenten fasting. And praise God for it! There is such goodness, wisdom, and necessity in Lenten practices, as trying and costly as they may be.
But we were never meant to fast without a following feast. To do so is to tell only half the story. It’s death with no resurrection.
If the fasting of Lent is meant to prepare us for the celebration of Christ’s death and resurrection, then the feasting of Eastertide is meant to prepare us for life in the new creation where we will experience the fullness of the never-ending abundance and joy of God’s presence. If we engage in the discipline of fasting, let’s not forget to be disciplined in feasting as well!
Feasting is not frivolity. We were made for it, and time is unwinding toward that great marriage feast of the Lamb.
After Lent, we are not “returning to normal,” breaking our fast and returning to regular habits and routines, though I could not be happier to be reunited with my Ember mug. I can think of no better means of mortifying the flesh than drinking lukewarm coffee every morning.
Rather, in this season are experiencing a foretaste of the coming resurrection, right here, right now, in our everyday lives.
So this Eastertide, how can we take on a posture of feasting in our regular lives with all their day-to-day demands?
You could try feasting on…
Noticing. Every liturgical season, I have a question that I bring to God in prayer regularly and reflect on what the Spirit is revealing throughout the season. For Easter, I’m asking God: “What areas of my life need a resurrection? Where am I seeing signs of new life?”
Revamping Lenten practices. Is there a habit or practice that would be a good counterpart to a way that you observed Lent? For example, this year during Lent I read a poem a day from an anthology by Malcolm Guite that focused on themes from Lent and events of Holy Week. So for Eastertide, I am savoring a quirky little book of poems called “Joy: 100 Poems” by Christian Wiman. Even in our devotional practices, let’s tell ourselves the whole story.
Delight. In general, when a recipe calls for a teaspoon of chopped parsley sprinkled on the pasta or a garnish of thyme on top of the chicken pot pie, I skip it. I’m sorry, but if you think I’m going to pay nearly $3 for a carton of herbs to decorate every meal only to watch my kids pick it off, you’ve got another thing coming (another evidence that the Midwesterner in me is alive and well).
BUT during Eastertide I garnish dishes with gusto anytime a recipe calls for it—and often even if it doesn’t. It’s a small practice that helps remember that practicality, though it has a place here and now, will not rule the day in God’s coming kingdom. Abundance and beauty and delight will be our inheritance, and we can experience the gifts of God’s goodness even now.
The beauty of Creation. The kids and I have been checking on our early spring flowers every day for weeks. Today—at last!!!—the first tulip blooms appeared. We are over the moon. We celebrate the new buds on the trees on our walk to the park. Soon we’ll be on peony watch as our down-the-street neighbors’ bush starts to grow. Slow down to the pace of what God has made and let a little wonder in.
The creation of beauty. I enjoy playing the piano (though I am no virtuoso), but I’m rarely in a position to sit down to do so in the midst of our full days. During Eastertide, I let the urgent take a back seat—even if it is for just a minute or two—and let my fingers skip across the keys. The kids join in with their own tune on the high keys or by dancing along. We are made to know our beautiful Creator as we create beauty.
Prayer. I pray the Pascha Nostrum (“Easter Anthem”), a long-cherished prayer taken from 1 Corinthians 5 and 15, and Romans 6, every day of Eastertide to keep the reason for this feasting before my eyes.
Want to join me? Here it is:
Alleluia.
Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us;
therefore let us keep the feast,
Not with old leaven, the leaven of malice and evil,
but with the unleavened bread of sincerity and truth. Alleluia.
Christ being raised from the dead will never die again;
death no longer has dominion over him.
The death that he died, he died to sin, once for all;
but the life he lives, he lives to God.
So also consider yourselves dead to sin,
and alive to God in Jesus Christ our Lord. Alleluia.
Christ has been raised from the dead,
the first fruits of those who have fallen asleep.
For since by a man came death,
by a man has come also the resurrection of the dead.
For as in Adam all die,
so in Christ shall all be made alive. Alleluia.
Encouragement. Lent often exposes us in a new way to the deep hurts in our own hearts and those of the people around us. Eastertide celebration does not demand that we ignore those things for 50 days. I think it can actually offer us a way to hold hope in the midst of hurt. Part of that is following the command to “encourage one another, even as we see the Day approaching” (Heb. 10). Ask the Spirit to bring to mind those who need prayer and a word of encouragement.
Food. Feasting doesn’t have to be only about eating, as I hope I’ve demonstrated, but why wouldn’t you want to feast on actual food? Don’t overthink it: gather friends and celebrate.
I’d love to hear how you’re keeping the feast this Eastertide!