As of this Easter I will have been a member of the Roman Catholic church for 22 years ... more than half my life. In other words, I've been a Catholic longer than not.
During last night's Vigil I reflected on those years; in part because this is the season when time folds in on itself for me and each Easter is all Easters.
Last weekend (Palm Sunday) at the 8:15 Mass I had the privilege of reading the Narrator's part in the Passion. To assist us, the Monsignor has prepared small folders with the passion printed in large, easy-to-read letters. The folder I was given this year had notes written in my hand on the inside page. At some point in the past, in the endless three-year cycle of readings, I'd used that folder before.
Was it from 2004 when I was two-thirds through my Graduate degree; when I struggled to keep up the end of my Arbitration class and graduation felt like it would never come?
Was it from 2001 when I hadn't yet begun my Mediation Certificate and the horros of Speptember 11th hadn't yet changed the world.
1998? Possible, although at that time I'm not sure I was a lector yet.
I wonder what the 'me' of that earlier reading would think of the 'me' of today.
This sense of compression, of being at the junction point in the infinity symbol of time, hits with full force during the Vigil. Although I've not attended the service every year, I've been to more than I've missed. Attending is a brief moment of connection with myself in each of the years before.
My first Vigil, St. Catherine of Sienna Newman Center in Salt Lake, was my Confirmation and First Communion. I didn't come to the Church in the usual way. I felt the desire to be part of the Community of Faith and had attended Mass regularly for a couple of years. When I decided to join two generous priests -- Frs. Bramble and McGreevey -- completed my Catechism and allowed me to be Confirmed even though I'd not gone through the formal RCIA. Cathy's parents were there and I remember being somewhat overwhelmed by it all.
To be honest, I probably understood less about the Faith than I should and yet I believed; deeply and completely. That was enough and the details came later as I grew.
Just after Evan was born I traveled to Nashville to present at a conference at Easter. My travel plans left the Vigil as my only option. A cab took me from my temporary quarters at the Opryland Hotel to a nearby parish. It was a windy night and during the Blessing of the New Fire a gust caught the cloth draped over the table and dipped it in the fire. Altar Servers and Deacons rushed to extinguish the unwanted flame. Once we were safely inside, the service proceeded as expected. That was the first Vigil I'd attended since my own and I remember thinking that mine hadn't seemed that long.
Once Cathy and I took up ministries -- Eucharistic Minister for her and Lector for me -- we were called upon to attend Vigils more often. Flash photo snapshots of various years present themselves in my mind; reading from Genesis about Abraham and Isaac, Exodus and the Crossing of the Red Sea; Isaiah promising food and drink; Paul explaining that we were buried with Christ in Baptism so that we could rise with Him. At most I'm assigned two of the readings, so I know that these memories cross multiple years.
Cathy and I served on the RCIA team one year, but that particular Vigil doesn't stand out to me now.
I remember reading at the Vigil the year that Ken was confirmed. He asked me to sponsor him. Various circumstances stretched his own Catechism into a two-year marathon. In some ways it was the inverse of my own; long where mine had been short, arduous where mine had been more simple. Yet Ken hung in there and I was proud to be his sponsor. He has remained faithful where others have fallen away. To date, he is the only person I have sponsored. The role of sponsor is not one I take lightly and I'd only take on another candidate after careful and prayerful consideration.
This Vigil also pointed to the future. It was Ian's last assigned Mass as an Altar Server. There's something bittersweet in the knowledge that he'll be moving on. We've applied for housing at the Newman Center for him and I pray that he gets in.
In two years we'll face the same circumstance with Evan.
Then we'll be older and empty-nesters and life will change. Grandkids? College graduations? It's hard to say what might be happening. Yet through it all there will be Easter and the Vigil and the Resurrection.
And, as always, time will fold in on itself for me.
May God Bless you and keep you in this joyous Easter Season!
