It has now been 5 years since I have been in a crowded space with closed doors and windows — with people elbow to elbow. I have visited zoos, arboretums, state and national parks, and wildlife refuges. But most noticeably for this retired minister, is that I have not been in a traditional church building. Not one. I have only recently become a little nostalgic about that, which surprises me. Not quite nostalgic enough, however to make the foray back.
This past weekend, Sam and I continued our practice of Easter sunrise on the beach. If something can be melancholy and joyful at the same time, my anticipation as we drove to the beach was just that. To our surprise there were fewer parking spaces at the “not too popular” dune walk-overs which are public access points in-between the multi-million dollar ocean front houses. When we came over the dune I snapped the photo above (and several more) with unexpected tears in my eyes.
Indeed the sunrise was magnificent, better than the photo. But most often when we come up to the top if we see one or two people that’s a lot, maybe another throwing a tennis ball for their dog. But on this morning…on this morning…the shore was lined with people just standing. On the walk-over a fairly young man was standing with his hands folded and his head bowed. (Never saw that before)
When we got down to the shore, I noticed (about a mile or more to the south) on Ponte Vedra Beach there was an Easter service set up with lights and music. And a mile or more to the north on Jax Beach by the pier, another religious service in full swing. I know those services well. But here in the 2 miles in the middle… were people who for whatever reason chose not to go there. They chose to come to the ‘not too popular’ part of the beach and just be. And for what seemed like a very long time, they just looked to the light rising in the east.
This is what that same beach looks like on other mornings as we wait for sunrise–beautiful but empty. It’s why the mile long line of people standing very still, looking east, was so surprising. And so touching. I know why I chose to be here rather than in a crowded indoor sanctuary… but why did they. I know that I was here to honor the Christ that rose…was it the same for them? I know who taught me what Easter means, and that it is special…who was behind their decision to be there on this holy day? All these wonderings came at once and caused the tears that needed to be shed.
I feel privileged to have participated in the Solemnity for Contemplatives on Easter 2024 on a familiar beach with hundreds of unfamiliar people. We were a community without anyone organizing us. We said sacred words that no one else could hear. We paused to pray in ways seen and unseen…and I can’t help but believe we were, as a community, grateful, thankful to the One who paints such beautiful sunrises.
I think, God willing, I’ll go back again next year to the same place at the same time.
Filled with joy,
Kathleen — thecelticmonk
The Celtic Monk Musings 