Drumroll, Please
By Marc Bastawrous
Just as my friend was about to share his news with us, he paused, took a breath, then turned to me and said, “drumroll, please.”
You’ve almost definitely been in this situation before. The drumroll has been around longer than most of us have been alive. In fact, it is known to have originated in the early 20th century and was frequently used during the rise of the travelling circus and vaudeville (some musical thing, don’t worry). Its purpose was to build suspense leading up to a final act. For example, a performer in the 1920’s known as “The Great Regurgitator” would request a drumroll before spitting a mouthful of kerosene into flames, igniting the cheers of onlookers wherever he travelled.
As time went on, the drumroll made its way into our daily lives as a prelude to our ‘good news.’ In the process of delivering good news with the aid of a drumroll, there is always a silence that breaks up the drum roll and the news. It’s often just a brief moment of silence that precedes the news, but it is long enough to build suspense up to a climactic point. The news is then delivered at this pinnacle of suspense and what often follows is jubilation. Hysteria at the joyful news! Scenes will often look as such:
*drumroll*
*silence*
“We’re having a baby!”
*drumroll*
*silence*
“I got the job!”
You get the point.
Essentially, the picture I am trying to paint is one of preparation. Not just any preparation, but preparation for something joyful, something that will make hearts dance. This image is just a fraction of the build-up that we have undertaken towards what is undoubtedly the most joyful day in the Church’s calendar – the Resurrection of Christ.
Picture the period of Lent as our drumroll. Each week we are being inundated with lessons on the Lord’s journey to accomplishing salvation for the whole world. First, He triumphs over temptation in the wilderness. Then we are introduced to the concept of repentance in the story of a boy and his Father. We discover that His mission is not only for the Jews, but that His message is for anyone with a heart open to listening – and that includes a certain Samaritan by the Well. There is sense of urgency as each week passes, a sense that we are in fact, building up to something momentous. The climax of this drumroll is reached as He rides a donkey victoriously into the city, basking in the praises of the people and entering the temple in power and glory!
And then, the sounds of the drumroll cease.
We enter into the church for the very first Pascha service, the reader gets up to read the very first prophecy of the week from the book of Zephaniah and says:
“Be silent in the presence of the Lord GOD; For the day of the Lord is at hand, For the Lord has prepared a sacrifice; He has invited His guests.” (Zephaniah 1:7)
The first reading of the week is a call to silence. And this year, more than any other Holy Week in our lives, this is precisely how we spent this past week. In the silence of our homes. In the quietness of our secret places as we followed the Lord through His Passion.
We were quiet as He rebuked the fig tree, contemplating our own fruitlessness. We were quiet as He spoke of the end to come, reflecting on the frailty of our lives. We were quiet in His betrayal, His denial, His loneliness, His trial. We have been quiet through it all.
And in front of the Cross, we stood – just like all of Heaven did in that very moment – in stunned silence. As the Lamb of God took our place, stretched out His hands and died in place of us all in an act of spectacular love.
This week is our brief moment of silence. But the Church, like Christ, could not remain silent. Because what follows the silence must be, the good news.
All of Heaven and Earth, in unison, is at its loudest the moment Christ rose from the grave. A friend once told me, “the silence of this past week is just a way to set us up for the thunder of Joyous Saturday.” And I feel that statement every time I hear the Church singing ‘Come All You Heavenly Hosts.’ Because the greatest news in the history of the world was shared today. Christ is risen so now our faith is not empty (1 Cor 15:14). Christ is risen so now we have become victors over death (1 Cor 15:55). Christ is risen so now we have new life (Romans 6:4). This is news worth shouting over!
And so what if we’re in our homes? Sing loudly! We’ve had the drumroll, we’ve endured the silence, now it’s time to join in the greatest news ever shared. Let the world hear it from every home, from every corner in the globe. Christ is risen!
There’s a story that has been making the rounds on social media since the closure of the churches about a Caliph in 11th Century Egypt who closed all churches for 9 years. When, one day, he decided to take a stroll through a street where he knew Copts lived and heard loud chanting coming from each of their homes. He turned to his advisor and said, “open up their churches.” The advisor, confused, asked him, “why?” To which the Caliph responded, “I wished to close a church on every corner, they opened one in every home.”
I tried long and hard to dig up more details on this inspiring story but had very little luck. I was specifically after a date of this occurrence asking myself the question, “what happened on this day within the life of the church that made her voice so audible?” Maybe I’m wrong (I’m usually wrong), but I believe this day was Joyous Saturday. A day when the Church could not keep silent. A day when the Church would have her voice heard!
And now it’s our turn to let history hear our voices. Because I have some news.
You ready?
*drumroll*
*silence*
“He’s alive!”
You know the rest…