Rain or Shine

The rain fell in steady streams. The forecast said rain through the night and into Easter morning. I couldn't help being disappointed; nor could I get rid of a memory of an Easter morning many years earlier.

I lived in Maine at the time. A group of friends and I were winding our way up a mountain in the dark, trying to keep candles lit in the rain. At the moment that the sun was to appear, we were huddled under blankets singing "Christ the Lord Is Risen Today." The sky eventually grew a bit lighter, but the pelting rain never stopped. We called it our "Easter unrise service."

I feared a repeat performance last year at the first sunrise service we had had at Sojourners in many years. Those of us who planned it began to realize what a stake we had in good weather for the occasion. The week before, we had scouted out the small park across from the outreach building which houses Sojourners magazine and our peace ministry. The park is known not only as the smallest national park in the United States, but also as the highest point in Washington, D.C. We had carefully chosen the spot with the best view to the East.

About a hundred of us—Sojourners community and our worshiping congregation—gathered at the outreach building at just about dawn last Easter morning. The rain had stopped, but the overcast sky initiated a debate over whether to hold our service in the outreach building chapel or in the park. The park won out, and we gathered up folding chairs, plastic bags, and children for the procession up muddy banks to the top of the hill. Soon the chairs were unfolded, the plastic bags were spread out on the wet ground, and all the children's attention was riveted on the opening of our worship.

The bright notes of a trumpet drifted from the center of our gathering out over the roof tops of the sleeping city below us. We joined in singing, and soon the sun broke through the clouds. Glorious streams of golden light glistened off the dark, wet trunks of the trees. A few sparrows shook drops off their wings and began to sing.

Joining hands, we formed a huge circle among the trees and began to dance. The children led the way. When the dance was over, we all erupted in loud and long clapping for joy.

We had a great deal to be joyful about. Christ was indeed risen and among us on that mountaintop last year. Lent had been a period of self-examination for us, and Easter was a time of recommitment to our life together as a community. And on Good Friday, after months of delayed hopes, we were able to purchase a building in our inner-city neighborhood as a center for our local ministries.

We also felt a deep sadness during our Eucharist as we remembered Karl Gaspar, a friend from the Philippines who had been arrested and imprisoned during Holy Week. But a letter he had written offered his reflections on the meaning of resurrection hope in his place of imprisonment, and reminded us of the victory Christ won over death.

It was chilly on our mountain, and breakfast was waiting to be cooked down in the outreach building. The enthusiasm with which the crowd streamed down the small mountain must have nearly rivaled the disciples' trip to the empty tomb.

We quickly got the pancakes on the griddle and dished out fresh fruit salad. Those who couldn't fit into the kitchen enjoyed one another's company outside. It was a time for reveling in the joy of our Lord's resurrection and the Spirit that continues to draw us together ever more deeply as a community of faith.

A year later Lent is upon us again. We are looking closely at our life together during this time of self-examination. As a community that puts so much energy toward justice and peacemaking in the world, we are remembering how crucial it is to spend time looking at ourselves—how we love and care for one another, and also how we fail and hurt one another. This is a time for repentance and asking for forgiveness. It is a time of renewing disciplines of prayer and biblical reflection. And it is a time of remembering again our dependence on God, of knowing that our unity rests in the power of the Holy Spirit that binds us together in spite of our failings and sin.

In a year's time, most of the dust has settled and the paint brushes have been put to rest at the Sojourners Neighborhood Center. After months of labor, our new home in the neighborhood now serves emergency food to 300 families, houses our tenant organizing offices, and is the site of after-school programs for children and nutrition classes for young mothers.

The Lord has been faithful to us in many ways in the last year. And we are deeply grateful that, rain or shine, we can count on the Lord to be faithful in the year ahead.

Joyce Hollyday was an associate editor of Sojourners magazine when this article appeared.