Well, it is finished, and by “it is finished” I do mean Holy Week and Easter. And for all the pastors and preachers and church musicians and church secretaries out there, I say “Phew.” Of course, Jesus rose from the grave in spite of our best efforts, but there you are, God accomplishing God’s work without the help of us ministry professionals.
Easter is over, and the post-mortem has begun. Yes, the services ran long. Yes, the microphones were a little wonky at first. Yes, we changed some traditions and yes, we did not change some traditions. Yes, there were flowers and no, not everyone has picked theirs up yet. Yes, there were dyed eggs and yes, one child did smush his all over the chancel steps. Yes, the restless little girl waiting to be baptized did eat said smushed-up egg on the chancel steps while her parents promised on her behalf to turn from the ways of sin and renounce evil and its power in the world. Yes, there were crowds, and yes, there were enough regular-size bulletins but not enough of the large print. And yes, God provided us in Portland with a perfect, 72 degree, blue-sky day.
So here it is, bright Monday, and I awoke at a charming 4:30 am today. I am such a Calvinist. No rest for the wicked despite all of yesterday’s efforts. It is bright Monday (as our Orthodox brethren and sistren call it) so that means it is Accomplish the Semi-Annual Dusting of My Office day. That always feels like an appropriate response to resurrection: to clean, to wipe off the old dust (which, a friend reminded me, is mostly dead skin cells. Bleh.) I hung up my robe, I organized my stoles by color, I finally put away the Christmas creche which had been tucked behind the couch since December. I bagged up old throw pillows for Goodwill, washed the dirty coffee cups, put all the sermon-prep books back on shelf, and pulled out the Lemon Pledge and dust rags.
I’m not sure that cleaning as a response to the resurrection is what Jesus had in mind.
Anyone who has been to our home will confirm that I am not a clean freak. I like things picked up, but if I get to cleaning every week or two, that’s good enough for me. So it’s not like I’m always walking around with my arsenal of Murphy’s Oil Soap, Lemon Pledge, white vinegar, bucket and rags at the ready. But I love to clean the office on the Monday after Easter; I think of it as a spiritual discipline.
I mean, if Jesus went to all that trouble to rise from death, and folded up those linen cloths neatly (with or without the imprint of his face on them) and gave us shiny, new, eternal life, the least I can do is clean my office, fold up the prayer shawl that was crumpled up on the couch, and give the impression that things are in pretty good shape.
There’s an understatement: after the resurrection, things are in pretty good shape. Except that not really. Crap still happens. People still practice their bad juju on the innocent. Death still appears victorious and sting-filled. The dust will come back, and sooner than I want.
But I offer what I can in response to the new life. I clean, and I will clean again, though not soon enough. I am grateful for the spring, knowing that the perfect 72 degree, blue-skied yesterday means a rainy, rainy April awaits us. I am convicted by the gift, and at least for today, try to live generously in response.
After the resurrection, things are on their way to being in pretty good shape. And my dusting is part of that. Thanks be to God.