Last night Linea and I led our annual Maundy Thursday service at the church. It was quite an intimate affair this year, with only 11 people in attendance. We left the service in silence as a symbol of the continuity between it and the Good Friday service.
Of course, most people won’t stay silent for the rest of the evening. Dixie went off to Sobeys to get some groceries, while I ordered pizza from the church for her to pick up on the way home. I went to Futureshop and purchased the new Tragically Hip album on a whim (along with another one on sale). Almost bought the new Neil Young album as well, along with a couple of remasted early U2 CDs, but resisted both.
As I sat in my car, idling in the parking lot, and opened the new CD (I always open and listen immediately) I made a momentary connection with Jesus’ disciples, who scattered after he was arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane. A group of us Jesus-followers had just gathered to commemorate the Last Supper and the new command to love each other and then we scattered into the world, back to our normal lives of TV and eating and drinking and shopping. It seemed for a moment like such an incongruity to go just go on about our business as usual after that service. But, I thought, tomorrow we collect ourselves again at the Good Friday service.
In the mean time, Dixie and I had our long put-off Thursday evening date: pizza, junk food, a couch, and two hours of NBC sitcoms. Yes, incongruous.
My intention was for at least one of us to go to a Good Friday service (I hadn’t looked into whether there were any children’s programs at the multiple services in town). It seemed like I would be going to St. George’s Anglican (my biannual tradition, it seems) for their service, but a miscommunication turned into an at-home Good Friday service with the kids. At first I was bothered by this, because I foresaw a “service” with the kids as a futile endeavour, doomed to failure. And I was right, to a degree–there is only so much that a 2-year-old and a 4-year-old in particular will pay attention to. Plus, all the kids were cranky and whiny and disobedient most of the day.
That said, historically the kids have not participated in any sort of Good Friday anything, so it was a good thing to tell them the story again and provide a little context for the weekend.
We showed them an Easter video, then went to the dining room where they coloured some Easter-related pictures (we have tried desperately to avoid the bunnies and chocolate theme over the weekend–we did a chocolate egg hunt earlier in the week to get that out of the way). I then told them the story of Jesus and his disciples in the garden, Jesus’ arrest, trial and crucifixion (using this).
This was followed by the kids singing along to the Veggietales Easter album. Here’s Madeline reading (!) the lyrics and singing along (although I’m pretty sure she knew most of the words already, but she loves reading, she says):
And here’s Luke colouring:
And here’s Olivia putting marker lids on her fingers:
Then one further craft: three crosses made out of popsicle sticks, which we intend to put up somewhere in the yard. I added the “This is the king of the Jews” sign to one of the crosses and Luke insisted that one of the crosses should have a sign with his name on it:
The morning reached a crescendo some time after this, when the two younger children were screaming at the tops of their lungs in anger over something , while Bob and Larry sang “I Know That My Redeemer Liveth” in the background. It was kind of funny.
And for lunch: poffertjes! Here’s a photo set of the preparation and consumption of poffertjes. They’re kind of like pancakes, but not. It was a tradition to have them for supper on my birthday. This was my first time making them myself. Here’s the end product:
After lunch: naps, homework, relax. Tonight: a game with Dixie maybe and sermon preparation.