Postcard from a Monastery - Pascha
On Holy Saturday I was given the obedience to assist Fr Dn S. in Trapeza, making preparations for the Paschal Feast. Fr Dn S. was a very particular man, and needed everything to be done ‘just so’; this meant that, to me at least, what may have taken two hours actually took four. Holy Week had been long and hard. I was tired. I needed to go back to my cell to complete my Communion Rule, and Fr S. insisted on changing dishes and layouts again and again. I hadn’t yet grasped the idea that he wasn’t doing this for his own satisfaction – he wanted everything to be perfect for his brothers on our Feast of Feasts.
The
Paschal Liturgy and Matins were celebrated in full, and were followed
immediately by the Feast. It is the only meal of the year where monks
are allowed to speak to each other whilst at table, but at 5am all
feeble attempts at conversation soon petered out. As for me, all I
wanted to do was taste some eggs, butter and cheese.
The
tradition in the monastery is that, on Pascha day itself, anyone may
ring the bells whenever they wish between the hours of 10am and
Vespers. This year I was awoken from a deep sleep at exactly 10am by a
cacophonous crash of ringing. One of the young novices had climbed the
bell-tower to be the first to ring out the Resurrection. I pulled
myself out of bed, put on my cassock and went out into the bright
sunshine. Br M was ringing every bell as hard as he could. The noise
was deafening but somehow beautiful. It was the shattering sound of the
destruction of Hades, the noise of Life erupting from the grave, the
jubilation of the Eternal and Everlasting Light, rising from the dead.
Anon.