Easter Vigil, 2019 (and what followed after)
Easter Vigil, 2019 (and what followed after)
Paul Robinson
I.
This is the night–
In the stillness of the shadow of death
we hold our breath.
I cover my cassock with the brightness of joy,
an atonement in anticipation of anastasis.
Cleanse me, O Lord, and purify my heart, that, being made white in the blood
of the Lamb, I may rejoice in everlasting bliss.
This is the night–
I prepare fire,
prepare to sing, to burn,
the work of bees and of your servants hands.
The resurrection of the body
does not become more realistic
or more reasonable
over time
or with much preparation.
Yet,
I will go unto the altar of God, even to the God of my joy and gladness.
II.
My stomach had other plans that night.
A body-soul dilemma that I never learned about in seminary,
that I never asked you about at the pub.
Trust me, friend,
the body always outdoes the soul
when you have the flu
on Easter eve–
God comes to your aid in the
apprehensive hand of an acolyte,
cleansing your inmost parts as the after-hours custodian.
You swallow the medicine into your body–
a little wine for your stomach
to heal your soul.
“God, it burns.”
You and I laugh.
III.
The following night
another broken body
labors against itself,
shedding blood
only to discover
(as is always the case)
the crucible of this suffering begets
another body-soul.
But here is no dilemma–
the love that twines together lover and beloved,
mother and daughter,
and the belly-laughter which is irreducible to body or soul,
are one and the same.
This is the night
when I learned
that the resurrection of the body
is only as realistic
or as reasonable
as comic relief, retrospectively,
or a new born baby.
I remember
because my stomach had other plans
and laughter
in the end
really is the best medicine.
Paul Robinson
Poet & Priest
Paul is an Anglican priest, occasional writer, and full-time dad. He lives with his family on the outskirts of Vancouver, British Columbia and spends his free time reading church fathers and adventuring outdoors with his children.
Photography by Juli Kosolapova