Easter Hangover

It was the day after Easter. The office was closed, but I came in anyway. My kids were in school, and my wife was at work, so unless I wanted to binge watch Modern Family without them, I may as well come in. And as it turns out it's a great day to get things done because there aren't a lot of people around.

A few of my colleagues had the same idea, which did apply marginal downward pressure on the amount of work I was able to do, but it was still productive.

I took down the stage in the sanctuary, and I rearranged the furniture in the parlor/choir room again. It still doesn't look like much, but I've added a few chairs since we were beginning to run out at times, and I changed how the bell tables work so it will be more like it is when we ring in church. I felt good about this.

Still, I had something of a personal rain cloud circling my head on Monday morning. It's the Easter Hangover.

You might think this is fatigue because of how hard I've been working. It's true there is a lot of extra stuff happening around Easter for a church musician, but the day itself is one of the few Sundays where I finish my work shortly after noon. Most Sundays I'll be here until 8p or so rehearsing with choirs. Not on Easter. And let's be honest...all I do is wave my arm around while people sing. It's not an extreme sport.

No, I always get a little sad at Easter because so many people come. Maybe that sounds ridiculous because most people want to see a huge crowd. The crowd is nice, but it always gets me to thinking: where were they last week, and where will they be next week. Usually the answer is "not here." Which leads me to wonder what we are doing wrong. So many people clearly still feel something of a pull to church, even if it's fairly faint. But it's ignorable on all but the highest holy days.

There's something here. Something important. Something you can't get anywhere else. I promise!

A lot of professional church people are freaking all the way out because of the precipitous decline in church attendance. Many of these are the same ones who look out at that Easter crowd and think, "Ah, finally." But that's the up side of my particular melancholy: I'm not worried about it, which sounds crazy given my dependence on a crowd of folks to feed my family. But I'm not. Ultimately (like, when I give myself a couple of days after Easter), I remember that what we are about here is less the crowd and more 2 or 3 gathered together. Relationships at this church are blossoming like the flowers we put on the outside cross...and they are just as beautiful to see.