Mission Firework!

10:15 AM Easter Sunday. I’m standing in the center of a crowd, tiptoeing to get a few more inches and see anything besides the heads and shoulders in front of me. We had sprinted for fifteen minutes to get there, and I was still trying to catch my breath.

This was it. Since I found out I would be in Florence on Easter Sunday, I was looking forward to the Explosion of the Cart: an annual event, where to celebrate the Easter, the resurrection of Jesus, a literal cart of fireworks is exploded in the square in front of the Cathedral of Santa Maria del Fiore. Yes, you read right, Florence rejoices on the victory of Christ with a wagon loaded with fireworks. To me, it just seemed rather appropriate. Isn’t it what we are all called to do? After a period of Lent, prayer, sacrifice and fast, we are called to rejoice and renew our lives, because He has won. He suffered and died, for love, for us, and now He is back.

But when I got there, I was not happy nor rejoicing. I was actually annoyed at the fact that there were so many people there. It is a touristic city, and people from all over the world were at the square to see the fireworks, not the celebration. I couldn’t hear the bishop speak. I couldn’t see anything but the hats of the guards. Nor hear the beautiful choir sing ‘Gloria’ as they lit up the fireworks from the altar. And I couldn’t help but thinking, ‘most of these people are not even catholics’.

As I am going in my mental egoism, I look up and there is a tiny little ash falling right in front of me. The sky above me is covered in white ashes, and trickling colored papers all around. I could see, just behind the crucifix at the top of the church, the last little bits of the firework. Right across from it, a little girl sat by the window with her dad. She stared marveled at the lights. An asian couple googled the meaning behind the explosion, reading out loud the history of the families that lived in Florence and how the traditional Church celebration came about.

Truth is. It is not about me. The explosion of the cart brought people from all over the world. And yes, they did not even know what the celebration was about, nor what Easter was. But It was their chance to find out more. To understand why and what we are celebrating.

God has these moments, when he basically smacks me in the face when I’m not paying attention. It was Easter. The resurrection of Christ, and like two thousand years ago there were a lot of people around that didn’t know what was really going on. But He slowly made it clearer, saving all of us.

On that day I eventually made it to Easter Mass at night, and met this woman whose faith led her to a different country and culture every Easter. Although I felt like I understood a little bit more about what it means to say that the Church is missionary, only, now a few months after it, I feel like I understand why He showed me it then. He was preparing me for the mission of the House this coming year. It is not about me, it’s about welcoming people in and being there for them, and I can’t wait to see what comes our way.