A Happy Easter Ritual

Years ago my friend Henry, a Jewish man I greatly admired, received a shock, one he probably should have expected but didn’t.

Because of deaths and other changes in his family’s structure, he abruptly realized that he would be the oldest man at the Seder table. As a boy, when he’d been the youngest kid, he’d been the one to ask, “Father, why is this night different from all other nights?”

Now, he would be the one to answer the Passover questions.

The power of his changed roll in this ancient ritual instilled him with a sense of awe and just about overwhelmed him.

Over the years, the Cowart family has also observed a number of simple customs that became rituals for us.

For instance one year Johnny, my middle son, decided that our family ought to have a Bible reading and prayer time after supper each night. We began the practice, it became a regular custom, and today, even though all the children are grown and gone, Ginny and I still follow that ritual — except on Saturday nights.

One Saturday when the kids were little and supper was a later than usual, Donald announced, “No use having devotions tonight. God is watching the Muppets!”

“Well,” I said, “Maybe we should join Him”.

So on Saturday nights ever thereafter we watched the Muppets instead of devotions.

Our rituals are not engraved in stone.

One ritualistic practice that Ginny and I observe — and I don’t remember when we started this or how long we’ve been doing it — but every day after our morning coffee while still in our bathrobes, Ginny comes over and sits on my lap to kiss and cuddle while we silently give thanks and pray for eachother’s day.

Better than Maxwell House!

Problem with that is that sometimes I am are not in peace and harmony with that left-handed, wrong-headed, exasperating woman. Or, for some impossible unreasonable reason, she’s decided to A-bomb my calm, peaceful Luxemburg — yes, she occasionally finds fault with the St. Francis Clone she’s married to — Anyhow, our morning ritual of post-coffee cuddling forces a truce and re-evaluation of our marital harmony.

That doesn’t always help, mind you, but it tempers our anger. It’s hard to stay pissed at someone you’re thanking God for. Especially when I’m aware that He’s not too keen on hypocrisy.

I’m becoming a specialist at grumpy prayers.

When the kids were home, we fell into another family ritual. Every year on the Thursday before Easter, after supper I’d crawl on the floor around the table and wash the feet of each person in my family. We treated this not as some solemn religious ceremony but as a time for jokes, foot tickling, and expressions of love.

Then the kids would squabble over who got to wash my feet and inevitably the basin would get knocked over and water splashed everywhere…

Happy chaos.

After Jesus washed the feet of his disciples at the last supper (John 13) he said, “Ye also ought to wash one another’s feet… If ye know these things, happy are ye if ye do them”.

I may be wrong but as best I can recall, that’s the only thing Jesus ever specifically said would make us happy.

I know that when our family was all together for this, we’d have a blast.

And, yes, I know that Jesus regarded this not as a mere ceremony but as symbolic of hands-on, down-and-dirty real service to others.

In Bible times, thousands of sheep, donkeys, camels, horses and whatever plied the streets of Jerusalem. None of this traffic carried emissions control devices.

People walked these streets also.

Think of what may have squished through those open-toed sandals.

Jesus washed the disciples’ feet because their feet were dirty.

Anyhow, after we’d do the foot-washing thing at the table, we’d talk about the Crucifixion. The gory details. The meaning to us. The love of Christ.

It was not for few or small offences that God became a human being; not for little and small sins only did He suffer torture in our place. His love brought him to this night of terror because of the sin which so permeates us that we think it normal

I tend to think: Really, Jesus, you should not have gone to all that trouble! Sure I mess up a little now and then but I’m really not a bad guy. I think you’re over reacting to this sin thing. I’m not that bad. After all, I’m only human.

Obviously, God in His pure white-hot holiness, thinks my behavior, my attitude, my heart me, my sin, my core — are all in more serious condition than I think they are.

But Jesus has been know to save people too dense and dumb and dark to know they needed saving in the first place. — folks like me.

I thought that little snake was rattling because he was happy to see me.

Anyhow, I’m getting carried away here.

I could have just said that Jesus died for a reason and left it at that.

The kids all grown and gone now. They won’t be with us for supper tonight.

What got me to thinking about these things is that tonight after supper, I plan to wash Ginny’s feet…

In fact, I like Peter’s idea — not just feet, but hands and head also …

In fact, I think I’ll try to lure her into the bathroom for a shower together!

What a cool idea.

I’ll try to make that a family tradition.

Wish me luck.