I wrote and published this piece last year in The Greenwich Sentinel; it seemed relevant at the time but even more so now.

Our country is soldiering on in the midst of a serious crisis; there is real loss and pain and uncertainty. Life as we know it has been interrupted, and many have been negatively impacted.

Likewise, Good Friday is a solemn day, and a time for pause and deep reflection. We may not know when the pandemic will end, but we do know that Easter is coming and with it, hope and new life and celebration.

Easter arrived late this year when spring had already sprung and then, just like that, it was over. My pastor says that the week preceding Easter is the most important time of the year and, as a Christian, I would agree with him. What a week it is, full of action and drama and the kind of special effects that would likely be the envy of the directors of movies like Mad Max and - dating myself here - Indiana Jones. There are feasts, betrayals, processions, a crucifixion, loss, resurrection and elation. And yet, as a mother, I spent much of my time stuffing eggs, filling baskets, making reservations and counting chicks. How many of our children would be with us for church and brunch on Sunday?

And now, the chicks have returned to their homes away from home and the eggs have been stored for another year and even through all of the activity, I managed to extract a new meaning of Holy Week - a week that culminates in a huge crescendo on Friday and Sunday -  and I became aware of a pattern that I had not recognized before.  This discovery has led me to believe that there is a little bit of Good Friday and Easter in all of our lives throughout the year.

I am not qualified to make a statement with any degree of authority about the meaning of Easter. In fact, I am not qualified to make a statement about Christianity. I have never mastered the Bible and am completely envious of those who can miraculously navigate their well-worn Bible to find a passage within seconds or can recite scripture for every possible occasion. I can’t pray out loud, and I still negotiate with God, a lot. We raised our children in various local churches and on Sunday mornings we gave them each a quarter to spend at Ada’s Candy Store if they could tell us one thing that they had learned from the sermon. One son repeated “God is good” every week, and we rationalized that that was a pretty good place to start. And yet, I once got a call from my daughter’s piano teacher,

“Icy, today I explained what the cross on a hot crossed bun represented and your daughter asked me, slightly horrified, ‘Do people still die that way?’”

Granted, my daughter was young, but it was a clear sign that we needed to spend more time in church pews and less time on athletic fields and that perhaps you don’t want to put all of your eggs in this Christian’s proverbial basket. Confession stated, I share with you my one small brushstroke taken from the intricate masterpiece that is Easter.

I remember hearing a sermon once about the importance of Good Friday. In essence, the pastor spoke about staying with the pain and loss of Good Friday and not rushing ahead prematurely to Easter. There are important lessons that need to be learned on Friday. Stay with it. Feel it. Be present.

I know that in my life, I have witnessed and had my own personal Good Fridays. They have been both big and small; a friendship turned sour, a lost job, 9/11, a tsunami or natural disaster, the throes of addiction, the death of a friend, parent or child. These have been moments of complete despair and despondence; times when I questioned my beliefs and wondered how I could possibly continue. And perhaps, not that dissimilar to the Biblical ages, times when I had no idea that Easter was coming.

And Easter does come. It may not look like what we expected, if we expected anything at all.  It may send us out in a new direction or path, opening doors we never knew existed, or it may expand our way of thinking, changing and teaching us to be more empathetic and understanding. It may bring a community together, encouraging individuals to put more value in the greater good than in singular aspirations, or it may stop us in our tracks, knowing that without the experience of Good Friday, life might have been much smaller.  

Easter does not erase the pain of Good Friday. In most cases we will never forget our Good Fridays. Easter gives us reason to rejoice again, it transports us out of the depth of our despair. And it is this pattern of loss, grief, despair, followed by clarity and celebration, that stood out for me this year.

To be clear, Easter is much more than a silver lining. Jesus died on the cross and two days later he rose from the dead and in doing so, altered the course of history for Christians. This is no silver lining! A silver lining is less permanent and less transformative. It’s the grasping of the good that may come out of a bad situation. True Easters are deeper and life changing.

Like many, I watched a lot of basketball this past March. As some teams experienced defeat, others emerged victorious and, like all good championships, it’s the stories behind the teams and athletes that capture our hearts. The story of this year’s NCAA men’s basketball championship team did just that.

One year ago, Virginia was the #1 seed in the NCAA Division One tournament. They had won their conference, but before that honor was fully realized, they were beaten in the first round of the championship. Yes, they had made history. Virginia was the first #1 seed to be taken out in the first round by the #16 seed. It was devastating and embarrassing and it was their Good Friday.

Fast forward a year; once again Virginia is seeded #1 in the Division One tournament.  In what looked like a potential repeat of the previous year, they were down in the first round. The Cavaliers pulled it out though and worked their way through the bracket, winning close game after close game. More than once, I had thought they lost, only to be proven wrong as they sunk a basket in the last second on the clock to take the victory, barely.

Most of you know where I am going. Virginia did in fact win the NCAA tournament one year after their history-making loss. Wahoo for all of you Virginia fans. Their inspirational coach, Tony Bennett, refers to their 2018 performance not as a “painful loss” but a “painful gift”. The team celebrated. The fans cheered. They will never forget their Good Friday, but the Virginia men’s basketball team and their coach had found their Easter.

I would be remiss to neglect mentioning the conclusion of this year’s Masters Golf Tournament.  We cheered when Tiger sunk his last putt to win the coveted green jacket. He had experienced his Good Fridays - a fall from grace, back surgeries, the loss of his father - and we were thrilled to watch him rise up and find his Easter!

Holy Week is about Jesus and there is no story more profound and powerful. It’s about the ultimate sacrifice; it’s painful and jubilant. I have not done it justice. Can we ever?

Thinking back to bygone Easters, I picture wiggly boys dressed in their wrinkly blue blazers, a little too small for their growing bodies, and a daughter dressed in her shiny Mary Janes adding graffiti to the Easter program with crayons provided by the church. What will their earned quarters reveal this year?

I hope that they will find meaning, deep meaning, in the Easter story, meaning that far exceeds my small interpretation. I hope that their “painful gifts” will truly transform their lives and grow them and that they will find their Easter and with it the gift of salvation and resurrection. Oh, and that “God is good”, because that’s a pretty good place to start.