Easter in Kenya

This is the Day [this is the day]
That the Lord has Made [That the Lord has Made]
We will Rejoice [We will Rejoice]
And be Glad in It [And be Glad in It]
Whenever any holiday comes around, I always seem to reminisce about my childhood—maybe because those times were much simpler or maybe because they represent happy times in my life. Whatever the case, when I started to write this post I had a song, which I quoted above, stuck in my head. “This is the Day” was a song that we used to sing when I was in elementary school around Easter (shout out to my BKS peeps). It was always a crowd pleaser for us youngsters because it was an ‘echo’ song, whereby the left side of the church would sing the verse and then the right side would repeat it. I remember feeling so happy anytime we got to sing this song, almost bursting with joy. As I began to grow up, I started to become less and less enthralled about going to church on Easter and I started to treat church more like a burden. I (or my parents) would drag me to church, and I sit in that cold pew with my arms folded, nit-picking about the music and the length of the priest’s sermon. At the end of the Catholic Mass, the priest says “The Mass has ended; go in Peace” and the congregation says “Thanks be to God”. I have to admit that if I was particularly irritable on a given Sunday, I would snottily retort, “Thanks be to God”, as in, “It’s about time the mass is over, man”. Moreover, if the mass ran over 1 hour, be sure that it would not go unnoticed by me and my big mouth. Sounding familiar anyone? Can I get an ‘Amen’?
This year, celebrating Easter in Kenya has been an experience. Holy Week in Kenya is like a week-long church-athon. I have to admit that I found myself avoiding the services EVERY day. Well, since I’m the only Mzungu around here, people quickly notice that I’m not attending, and are not afraid to inquire as to why I wasn’t at mass. Boy, I had a bucket full of excuses to retort, too. I was tired. I had work. I had dishes (although I never actually did them). I forgot. But honestly, deep-down, I knew that I really just felt burdened by going to church. I mean, service here is 2+ hours AND when they say mass starts at 9:00, it really won’t start until 9:15. Of course, my guilty conscience got the best of my on Saturday, and I knew that I needed to save my reputation and my soul (which already singed a little from Hell’s licking flames), suck it up, and attend the 8:00 pm Easter Vigil Mass.
I am so glad that I went because it was such a cool experience. When the students and priest showed up (at 8:20, mind you), all of the lights in the compound were turned off and we all went outside and gathered around a small fire. The priest began reading in KiSwahili and he blessed the Easter Candle. Then, we all lit our candles from the Easter Candle, which in itself was really neat because the congregation is supposed to bring their own candles, so some of the students had to be a little creative. There were birthday candles, enormous palm sized candles, and candles so small they were sure to finish before they were even lit. Then, we all walked silently into the darkened school cafeteria, which doubles as our church. Then the priest started mass as when all stood with our candles. We kept silent out of respect for the death of Jesus. Then halfway through the service, they turned on the lights and we all sang and danced to the beat of a booming conga drum. The little children dressed in beautiful dresses and they danced up and down the aisle, along with a group of students who donned uniform lesos. Everyone was so happy all around me, praising our Lord and thanking Him for His sacrifice. Even the grumpiest person would not have been able to remain unaffected by the positive energy flowing through that small cafeteria. I know it doesn’t sound awesome, but being in that room with all of those students was an incredible experience. The thing is, people here sing and dance like no one is looking—like they aren’t afraid that the really cute guy next to them can hear them singing a little off-key. Because of this, their music is beautifully harmonized and accented with shouts of joy (called “Sigalagala”) They praise and worship God with child-like spirits.
What do I mean by “child-like”? No, I don’t mean that they are acting immature and childish. I’m talking about the innocents that children have. We have all witnessed that child during mass who meanders towards the front of the church and plops down on the altar or the child who sees the manger and screams to his mom: “LOOK, IT’S BABY JESUS!”. Children don’t let culture norms and societal pressure stop them from saying or doing what’s really in their heart and on their mind. If they are excited about something, they scream and dance. If they are sad, they cry. No matter what context, they innocently follow their heart. That’s what I mean when I say that the Kenyans praise and worship with a child-like spirit. It’s like there are no boundaries, no invisible wall built by a judging society stopping them from expressing what is in their hearts. I want to be like that. If something moves me in church, I want to express it. I want to Dance! I want to sing! I want to holler “Alleluia” and “Amen”!
I mean think about it: This man, Jesus, DIED for YOU. He was murdered most brutally, so that WE can LIVE. It’s a hard concept to grasp and I still struggle to realize the enormity of this sacrifice, but it is in fact an ENORMOUS sacrifice that many of us, myself included, take for granted. Think about this: if Oprah knocked on your door today and handed you the keys to your brand new, cherry red Mustang convertible with no strings attached, you would probably scream, hug everyone around you, and jump up and down in excitement. And that is just a car. We’re talking about someone giving up HIS life so that YOU can have eternal life. We should be extremely excited, but sometimes as Christians we become unmoved, unimpressed, and unaffected by this amazing sacrifice. It’s easy to become like this, because were so used to hearing that this Jesus dude died on the cross and saved us. It’s like when you’re watching a war movie and after a while you don’t gasp when you see a body bloodied and bruised. We just become indifferent.
So this year, I want to challenge you all. Don’t allow yourself to continue to be indifferent. Let yourself be excited about church. If a song or a wise phrase from the priest moves you, express it. Sing like no one is listening, dance like no one is watching, clap your hands, because it’s not about those people who may or may not be watching and listening. It’s about our Lord who has Risen Today! Alleluia. And who knows, maybe that person next to you, who you’re convinced is going to judge you, is dying inside to clap, sing, and dance too, but is too afraid. Don’t let fear hold you back from worshiping Our Lord to the fullest because that’s what he deserves.
Okay, I’m getting off my soapbox for today, but I just felt it in my heart that I needed to express how I feel to you all. :-) Happy Easter!