5.28.2014

Story #9: The Risen Sun


Easter morning, 2014
Easter morning, 2013

The Risen Sun
            The speakers boom around us – they’re not blaring loud music but rather the Easter message from Pope Francis. I run through the crowd with my Orvieto roommate, Becky, and my cousin’s boyfriend, Jon. I hadn’t seen Heather in ten years (since she moved to Rome) but when we were reunited only yesterday, I knew we must be cousins. Heather had warned us about the crowds in St. Peter’s on Easter morning, but a few too many snooze buttons and a missed train left us running through the masses even catch a glimpse of Papa Francesco – the new pope in Rome.
            We nudge our way through families and middle-aged women, swarms of nuns and older men. I grab onto the back of Becky’s coat as she pulls me through. Even though it’s the beginning of April, we’re still wearing our winter coats in Italy.            
            Jon leads us through, trying to get us closer to the piazza of St. Peter’s so we can hopefully see the pope before he ends his message and returns inside the basilica. As an American tour guide in Rome, Jon’s short Italian phrases for excuse me and pardon us help us out, but the sheer numbers of the crowd keep us on the outskirts. Jon shouts over the people that separate us from him – “The pope… he’s talking about… Easter and how… the resurrection…”
            Someone pushes Becky out of the way to move forward and we immediately check her purse, her pockets, to make sure nothing was stolen. Jon continues to translate the message for us, but suddenly the crowd cheers and Papa Francesco waves, moving back inside. Jon shrugs and asks if we want to grab something to eat on our way back to my cousin’s apartment on the other side of Rome. I want to know what the pope said about Easter. What was he telling us? I barely knew enough Italian to order a plate of pasta, let alone understand an Easter message full of church lingo and doctrine. I just knew that Buona Pasqua! meant Happy Easter! We follow our personal tour guide away from St. Peter’s Square and away from the new Pope’s Easter message.
***
            With weak knees and dizzy heads, we grab onto the last rocks that separate us from the mountaintop and heave ourselves up through the narrowed path. But we aren’t the only ones with the clever idea to hike Mt. Major on Easter morning. Even at 5:53am, we can’t hide our heavy breathing and stumbling feet from the eight people standing at the top of the mountain, all staring at us as we clamber up the last ridge.
            “Oh… Sorry! Sorry!” Ginny, Caroline, and I scramble to get out of their iPhone pictures of the sunrise. Didn’t they know that the picture wouldn’t even compare to the real thing? We move next to the hikers and take turns sipping from our shared water bottle. I stand up on the rock fort behind them and accidentally kick their stuff, almost knocking a bag of moss onto the frozen ground. We make it just in time, thankful that we left my house at 4:30am to drive around the lake from Gilford to Alton where we made our way up the mountain right as the sun, bright orange, begins to rise over the Lakes Region in New Hampshire.
            Hopping down from the rock ledge, the three of us grab our water and move away to a more secluded spot. Caroline spread outs a blanket and Ginny opens up her Bible to John 20: “Early on Sunday morning, while it was still dark, Mary Magdalene came to the tomb and found that the stone had been rolled away from the entrance…” She stops reading as we look at each other. Something smells… kind of weird… like skunk. We look over to our hiker friends and I realize that I didn’t accidentally kick over their bag of moss, but their bag of pot. Is this how people some people celebrate Easter? Do they smoke before they go and eat all their Easter candy? After a few confused looks at each other, we realize that it’s not only Easter on this Sunday morning but it’s April 20th, also known as smoke-pot day, “4/20.”
            Ginny continues to read: “He asked her, ‘Woman, why are you crying? Who is it you are looking for?’ Thinking Jesus was the gardener, she said, ‘Sir, if you have carried him away, tell me where you have put him, and I will get him.’ Jesus said to her, ‘Mary.’”
The smoke blows and the morning wind carries it to us, even though we are facing away from the others. We pull the blanket closer and continue: “Mary turned toward him and cried out in Aramaic, ‘Rabboni!’ (which means “Teacher”). Jesus said, ‘Do not hold on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father. Go instead to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’” Loud 4/20 laughter breaks through our Easter reverence and Ginny closes the Bible. Our cold bodies press together as we sit in community, watching the smoke –  and the sun –  rise together.

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