The Pleroma of Eastertide

One hardly knows where to being when leaving so much space between entries. I had intended to visit in the quiet of Holy Saturday, something I thought of this year as a crease; the fold of the folio in the passage of before into after. As it is, I passed through Holy Week this year on very quiet feet: from a Eucharist on what is occasionally known as Spy Wednesday, around he feast of Maundy Thursday to sneak into the garden after all was done to hold vigil in the small hours of the morning, crossing to the chapel the morning of Holy saturday for tis brief prayers and readings. Not until the early Easter Eucharist did I become once again in synch with my community. Until then my notes wove in and out of their services like the black keys on the piano.

The coming of Easter season has been wholly different. Connection to the cathedral has been primarily through Sunday mornings, but other bright and holy paths have opened up in this window coincident with the dawning of the bright half of the Celtic year. Two short term clases presented them selves in ways not to be ignored. Our Academy chaplain and holder of Irish mysteries is hosting a veritable feast of conversation Thursday evenings under the title Celtic Wayfaring. The beautiful intersection between Celtic lore and a devout pilgrim incarnation of Christianity is proving fertile ground for a small group of us on this journey.

A very different path running parallel to this is a short course with the Academy to continue the historical exploration I undertook this past fall. With our guide returned again we are looking at the myriad players and forces at work in the reformation of the 16th century with hints of its 17th century fal out. As I noted in my reflection paper for our session this past weekend, one constellation of consequences is the movement of my family to the new world from a variety of enclaves seeking deeper reform; whether Pilgrim & Puritan, Huguenot, Dutch Calvinist, Presbyterian or Anabaptist, the combination of economic possibility and spiritual space drew them west, as it always seems to do for those descended of the Celts.

So I have arrived labyrinthine to see the full moon rising one cycle beyond Easter dawn with a renewed sense of my Celtic call to wander and the resurrected life flowing so deeply in my veins. Not a bad place to scout forward in hopes of the Pentecostal fires yet to come.

Bright Blessings in this season of growing light and God willing perhaps even some summer heat one of these days.