Resucitó, aleluya


Nuggets from a hectic Holy Week and a glorious Easter.

Palm Sunday

The children’s choir joined the adult choir for 10 a.m. mass. They did an awesome job. A fourth-grade boy sang the psalm bringing tears to my eyes. (No surprise there. I think I cry every time the kids sing.) Hosanna in the highest!


The Passion Play.

The children’s choir added their beautiful voices singing, among other things, “I Think I Heard Him Say” while Christ carried his cross. I let them take their shoes off so they could move quietly in the choir loft when they weren’t singing so they could stand at the rail and see the whole play. Watching them watch was as precious as hearing them sing.

Helen and Mary Claire joined together in a very moving song.

Henry missed his cue for wind chimes at that the beginning of “And God Cried” but got it at the end. After, when he realized it, he said, “I was watching the play, and I couldn’t even think about the chimes. Jesus was dying and I was going to cry.” Enough said.

Good Friday Stations of the Cross.

With a short notice of cancellation for the second presentation of Passion Play (due to a nasty flu working its way through the cast and school at large, including Sr. Play Director), we put together a morning Stations of the Cross for children led by that trusty children’s choir. God bless those singing readers. What a capable bunch.

Easter Vigil

Our pastor sang his way through the beautiful Exultet. As a singer, I think I was holding my breath in support. It was lovely, and I let out an internal “woot” in silent approbation.

Standing in a candle-lit church hearing a 6’7” man’s voice ring through, “join me in asking God for mercy, that he may give his unworthy minister grace to sing his Easter praises” is indeed humbling.

After communion, we listened to a father and son play guitar and sing Resucito. Truth is, musically speaking, for me this is one of the highlights of the Easter season. I can’t begin to express how beautiful, amazing and fitting it is after all we just witnessed and celebrated during the vigil mass. This year, the son sang a kind of contrasting melody or echo or something. The combination of the father’s smooth and full voice with the son’s almost raw higher voice made the song even that much more moving if that is even possible.

It is such an honor to witness and be part of that mass.

And Helen, who was the cantor for the mass, said, “I’m pretty sure that was the most Jesus-filled mass experience I’ve ever had.” As the cantor you have the best view of everything that is happening at that mass. I was grateful she had that experience. (And she did a lovely job.)

Easter Sunday

We unwrapped the Alleluias we hid away on Ash Wednesday. We found Easter baskets and eggs. For Lillian, it’s all about that bunny. We read about the Easter story, but unlike the understandable idea of Jesus’ birth, the mystery of his resurrection is hard for a three-year-old to wrap her mind around. Henry told her that without Jesus there wouldn’t be Easter. But she reminded him it was the Bunny who brought the baskets. Hmmm.

After 10 a.m. mass, we spent a beautiful day with family.

Alleluia, Aleluya.

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