Reflections on Maundy Thursday and Good Friday

Today is Good Friday for us Orthodox. Easter is almost here, but before we get to the Empty Tomb, we must first follow our Lord to the Cross and even descend with Him into Hell. So even though we will be feasting in less than two days' time, it feels like we still have a long way to go.

It reminds me a bit of when I was a student and the end of the semester was approaching. I could never get excited about the winter or summer break that came after the end of semester because I knew I had to get through final exams first. I was always a procrastinator, yet also excessively worried about maintaining a perfect GPA, so final exam week was a very stressful time for me. I couldn't enjoy fantasizing about the upcoming vacation time because part of me wasn't sure I would actually survive finals! Then, when I eventually did make it through finals, the sudden relief of being done with the semester always came as a pleasant shock.

So, I'm not getting excited about Easter... yet.

--

Last night was the Great Watch in the Garden, when we commemorate and mystically re-live the night Jesus spent praying in the garden of Gethsemane before His Crucifixion. I was grateful to have the opportunity to pray for about an hour at the Altar of Repose after Mass. My 5-month-old was very cooperative and slept in my arms for most of that time.

The hour I spent at the Altar of Repose was from about 8:45 to 9:45 pm. It was a still, solemn, beautiful hour. On the Altar, the golden Tabernacle containing the Eucharist sat surrounded by flickering candles, which provided the only light to the little chapel. There was darkness beyond the stained glass windows, and I could hear the night noises of the city-- traffic, the occasional siren, voices of pedestrians passing by. All around me in the city, people were going to sleep, or starting the night shift, or having a drink in a bar, as if it were any other night and not the eve of something awful and wondrous. It is lonely to be awake and watchful at night, when it seems that everyone else is asleep or revelling or going about their work. (You can't blame most people for being ignorant of the Orthodox liturgical calendar, but still.)

I thought about Jesus praying in the darkness in Gethsemane, the night noises He must have heard around Him, and His dreadful anticipation of what was about to happen. Only He fully knew what was about to happen, even though he had forewarned His disciples. What a night that must have been.

What Happened When I (Mostly) Stopped Reading the News

A few weeks ago, I was a bit obsessed with the presidential election coverage. I followed every state's primary closely, even though I was unable to vote in my own state's caucus. (I was ineligible to vote in either major party's caucus because I am a registered Independent. In addition, the Colorado Republicans, for reasons that are difficult to understand, decided not to hold a vote on the presidential nominee this year.)

Then I drastically reduced my consumption of news and politics articles when Lent began (Ash Wednesday was March 16 for us Western Rite Orthodox), and in the past week or so I have read hardly any news at all. I have no idea what controversial statement Trump has made most recently. I have no idea whether Bernie Sanders is catching up with Hillary Clinton in the delegate count. Is Kasich still in the race? I really don't know.

I am ignorant of other news topics as well. I did read a little about the Brussels attacks, but I haven't read into the details.

What happened when I (mostly) stopped reading the news? At first, I was extremely curious about what was happening in the election and the world, and I found it very difficult not to go to Google news and find out how certain stories that I had been following were developing. Then, as I became more and more out of touch, I actually started to lose interest. Since I no longer knew which states' primaries were happening when, I didn't feel tempted to watch the results come in.

I have begun to feel a lot less emotionally involved in the election and other world events. Instead of musing all day about the mysteries of Donald Trump's candidacy, I am much more focused on my daily tasks. I have even put more thought into my spiritual life (though still not as much as I should during this holy season).

I have a Thursday through Sunday print subscription to the Denver Post (I have a Luddite streak, despite my addiction to Google news). This morning, after I picked up the Thursday edition from my doormat, I skimmed the headlines for about two minutes before recycling the whole thing. It didn't feel like an act of self-denial; I just didn't actually care about reading past any of the headlines. I got bored with the news after two minutes and wanted to move on with my day.

Now that I have taken a step back from following politics, it is becoming clearer to me just how much spiritual destruction I had been doing to myself by unrestrainedly indulging my political passion. Sometimes, I think, it is difficult to see how destructive a vice is until you have started to recover from it.

It's like when you're in a smelly room for a such a long time that your nose becomes desensitized to the smell. It's not until you've been out of the room for a while, breathing the fresh air, that your nose becomes re-sensitized. Then, when you re-enter the room, you realize how much it stinks, and you can't believe you didn't notice before.

Not reading the news has been a breath of fresh air. Now, when I come across yet another article someone has posted on Facebook explaining how Trump's candidacy is a harbinger of the apocalypse, I think to myself, "Whew-- did this always REEK so much?"