As we emerge sleepy-eyed from our mosquito net tents, Lauren murmurs to me, “Happy Easter …”
For a few split seconds, I’m a little befuddled, head lost in a haze of drizzling rain and a chorus of birds and insects. Today is … Sunday. Easter Sunday.
It was probably one of the least Eastery Easters I’ve had so far. We were a good couple of hours up the river from Rurrenabaque. It was the last day of our jungle tour in Madidi National Park, in the Bolivian Amazon. Because of the rain, we didn’t see or do much. We had a late breakfast, packed up camp, saw some parrots and macaws on the way back to the boat, had lunch at another site, and then it was the end of the tour.
This year, I almost feel like Easter didn’t happen. We had a lamb dinner at church on Thursday night before I went on my trip and that was it. But, talking it over with friends, I realised that was far more than many churches here did this Holy Week.
It’s another example of how Latino evangelicals often go to extremes to differentiate themselves from Catholics, reject those traditions. It seems a shame to me – apart from being quite beautiful, I think many of those traditions have a place in our lives, serve a purpose. Not celebrating Easter is like not celebrating birthdays. It’s fine if that’s how you roll, but it’s kind of a missed opportunity to show your appreciation for a precious, God-given life.
I guess that’s something Easter 2015 was not lacking in: life. We saw a whole lotta life in the jungle.
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