The Rt. Rev. Chilton R. Knudsen
Bishop of Maine
May 2001 Message
from Bishop Chilton Knudsen
A Down-East Easter (selections from my journal)
[Note: It has become my custom to spend the last part of Holy Week and Easter "out in the field", in our smaller and more distant congregations. This year, the lay and ordained ministers in Machias, Calais and Eastport allowed me to share with them the Triduum – the "three days" -- encompassing the journey from Maundy Thursday to Easter morning. No words can tell you how deeply moved I am to share life with our remote congregations during this holy season, but I offer here some selections from my journal to give you a glimpse of what made this time of homecoming so profound].
Thursday: It began with the celebration at St. Aidan’s, Machias, of the "Maundy" (= the Mandatum, the commandment or mandate), in obedience to Jesus’ word that we are to follow his example, "that you should do as I have done to you" (John 13:15). This is a quiet, reflective service, for which Tom Halkett+ and I share leadership. After the Liturgy of the Table, the last celebration of Eucharist until the Easter Vigil, the altar and the entire sanctuary are stripped of all furnishings, vessels, and linens. We gasp as the last item is removed; how stark is the Table, brooding nakedly in a shadowy sanctuary whose vigil lamp has been extinguished. The Presence of Christ in the Reserved Sacrament is gone. Dear Jesus, let your absence carve open space in our souls, that we might welcome you ever more completely this Easter. And help us to keep that space open for you alone.
Friday: In Calais, the Good Friday Liturgy, with the Reading of the Passion Gospel and Communion from the Reserved Sacrament, draws a goodly number of people. The gem-like beauty of St. Anne’s, both inside and out, echoes with the stark desolation around the bare Table.The solemnity of this worship service deepens as I alternate praying the Solemn Collects with Sue LeSueur+. This day, in which our shoulders are turned so we face straight at the Cross, tears at us with its emptiness: communion with no words of consecration, a liturgy with no blessing or dismissal at the end, no exchange of the Peace. Empty like the fasting stomach. No fancy dinner this night. Only the sacred waiting through this Good Friday, this time of God’s silence.
Good Friday IS, in reality, always happening. If Resurrection is always happening, Good Friday must be too. In this area of Washington County, Good Friday happens, but it’s often unacknowledged or denied…as people of all ages experience the economic struggles of the region…as young people seek restlessly to find hope for the future…as livings are hard and the winter is long. Jesus, grant us grace and courage to watch by your Cross as we see you in the suffering faces here and everywhere. Shield us from the temptation to run, to deny, to cover-up. To pretend that new life can begin without death to the old life. Give strength, O God, to all those in every part of our diocese who are called to care for suffering people, to sit with those whose journey from Good Friday to Easter seems so very long and uncertain.
Saturday: Eastport has its chest puffed out! They’ve "gone Hollywood", as a TV pilot is being filmed in and around the downtown main street. People are in high spirits, having fun with this sojourn into show biz: "Have you had your casting call yet?". Extras are being sought, even some walk-on parts are available. "Can you imagine: I had to report to Make-Up at 4 am!". John Phelps+ shows me the new handicap ramp and the renovated kitchen. Get ‘em in. Then feed ‘em. That’s what Jesus did.
It is Saturday afternoon, and we are gathered in the parish hall at Christ Church, Eastport. Sue LeSueur+ is graciously, patiently, teaching about 30 of us, from all over the region, to make Pysanki Easter eggs, the brightly colored eggs traditionally crafted by Orthodox Christians from the Ukraine and nearby locales. These eggs are "written", not dyed, because the "pysak" (a quill pen used for applying melted wax to the eggs to create the intricate designs) is the means by which the message of the design is created. All ages of folks bend over the table, painstakingly writing their eggs and dipping them into colors. Then, the eggs are brought near a candle flame, but not so close as to cause a scorch, as one layer of wax is removed and another trip to the color bath happens.
As eggs are written, little ones play at our feet. People wander in and out, pausing for a hug or a short conversation with the egg-writers. Good smells emerge from the kitchen. Ham, turkey, pie and homemade rolls are cooking for our pot-luck supper. Only later this evening will we gather in the sanctuary to kindle the New Fire and make the First Eucharist of Easter. Christ is Alive! Risen Lord, known to us in the Breaking of the Bread: every year my capacity to absorb the wonder of Resurrection grows just a tiny bit. But I can scarce take it in, even so. Gather all of us into this mystery of our redemption. Form us, shape us, heal us and restore us. Dear God, Set our feet on the path of New Life.
Sunday: Back at St Aidan’s in Machias, where we baptize Tucker O’Toole Grinnell, who thought the bishop’s shiny pectoral cross was supposed to be his (expressing great displeasure when it stayed around the bishop’s neck in spite of his tugging). Our celebration is enhanced by the gifted young musicians who belong to this congregation, and by the presence of Ezra Halkett, for whom many of us have been praying over the past year. Ezra is doing very well; our continued prayers are welcomed as he progresses in his rehabilitation. Dear Jesus: Easter, too, is progressive, isn’t it? As we sing "Jesus Christ is risen today, alleluia", and my throat clogs as it does each Easter when I try to sing this hymn, may I remember that this song belongs to every day. May your Church bear witness to your redeeming love in everything we do, every little action we take, every word we speak, every offering we make.
St. Aidan’s has Easter dinner for everyone after the service, after the young ones hunt for Easter eggs throughout the church (it really is too cold for an outside hunt, sadly). A young person tells me, with appropriate facial expressions, that last year one egg wasn’t found till several months later at the Clean-up Day. Once again, the people of God sit at table with one another, for one more festive pot luck dinner, and then, after feasting yet again, one happy bishop turns her car towards home. Dear Jesus, as you have died and risen for us, may we in this diocesan community share the Good News with our world, so hungry to know love and forgiveness and hope. Make us, dear Lord Jesus, your instruments. Your witnesses. Your own people, seeking to serve you in every way as your grace will lead, leaning on your mercy…trusting in your power…loving one another. Alleluia!
Eastertide Blessings to each of you,
+CHILTON