Being gullible on Easter

I miss Dad the most during Holy week every year and the thing I miss the most, is something I used to dislike as a child.

It was about going to church for hours on end. We were Syrian Orthodox. Stepping into the church for anything meant being there for two to three hours and most of it was spent standing. Maundy Thursday was a minimum of three hours. Good Friday was six hours. Seeing how faithful my Dad was , I never had the courage to tell him that I didn’t enjoy being at the church and he didn’t have the heart to push me to join him beyond a point.

But he had a modus operandi. Year after year, from the time I can remember I accompanied him to the church during the Holy Week, even though I was never all in on the idea.

It was a nifty little con he’d play on me and the set up would begin late evening on Wednesday, most likely around dinner time. The conversation would start veering around our church commitments for the week and I’d hear him make a solemn pronouncement.

‘You see son,’ Dad would say, ‘Our faith’s whole foundation lies in partaking of the Lord’s Supper. So whether you go to church on Good Friday or Easter or not, you must go on Maundy Thursday.’

Faced with the burden of keeping my faith’s foundation intact, I’d trudge along with Dad the next day. It was not much of him to ask of me, was it?The service would be anywhere in excess of three hours but I had no complaints. It was after all pitched to me as the most important day of the the Holy Week.

On our way back though, while I’d be quite pleased with what I’d done, Dad would say, ‘A true Christian always goes to church on Good Friday, whether he goes for Easter mass or not.’

Now it was my time to play stoic and not react. He wouldn’t ask me to come with him either. But the next day I’d see Dad getting ready & the yearning to be a ‘true Christian’ would take over me and I’d half-heartedly relinquish my holiday unlike most of my other friends for whom Good Friday meant a long weekend of cricket.

By now, I’d be relieved that I had done the two most important things for my faith for the year. Dad would be full of energy on his way back. Going on church on Good Fridays for the Syrian Orthodox faith is to my mind equivalent of a triathlon, so I’d understand his sense of accomplishment.

He would however, sometime late evening, gently slip in something to the effect of, ‘A true believer always goes for Easter mass. This is about Christ rising, after all. But you don’t have to come with me,’ he’d say this time with an unnerving assurance.

It wasn’t a pitch but you know it was a bloody good one! It continued year after year and I played along as if it was the first time I was being told about the importance of the Holy Week. As I left home for work, I had outgrown the gag but on calls across cities, sometimes across timezones, some versions of his pitch continued.

Even though I didn’t need it anymore, we humored each other. When you are a single child of a single parent, you do these things.

We last ended a Holy Week together perhaps way back in 2005.

I had happily gotten used to the ways of the church by then. I now, look forward to my Sunday mass and Easter and Christmas week with gusto. But it’s now been three years since I heard that nifty con and boy what would I not do or pay to be that gullible with him all over again.

Happy Easter everyone- it’s gonna be a good one!🐰