Two years ago, I came across these two clippings about Easter 1939, from different newspapers, in a scrapbook belonging to St. Stephen’s rector, The Rev. Alfred W. Price, who arrived four years later. They struck me then as wonderful records of how the church’s compelling art participated in worship or devotional programs. These clippings also provide precious glimpses of the parish children in devotional mode that year.

Today, sheltering in place because of Covid19, I quickly register the difference between then and now. We’re locked out as well as locked down. It’s weird not to celebrate Easter within the church. The church must miss us too. Together, we bring the whole to life.

With more thought, however, I was stunned by the similarities of then and now. Holy Week in both years took place on nearly the same dates: April 2-9 in 1939. Like Easter 2020, Easter 1939 was profoundly bleak, dangerously volatile. The world was still in perilous economic state with the Depression. Following a buildup of actions by Germany and Italy, all of Europe was on the brink of devastating war; historians officially date World War II to that very year.

St. Stephen’s was in crisis. The Crash and the Depression had badly weakened it financially. The parish and contributions had shriveled. There was no money for needed repairs; church staff was laid off; their eminent rector The Rev. Dr. Carl E. Grammer retired in 1936. His successor, The Rev. Vincent Franks, blamed much on an often-fingered culprit: the automobile that enabled parishioners to flee to the suburbs in greater droves. He tried to reach more by broadcasting sermons by radio—like today’s online worship during the present lockdown. Lamenting that he’d failed to meet his goals, however, Rev. Franks resigned in 1939 (sometime after the Easter Pageant which included his daughter).

Today, I appreciate being able to vicariously participate in the 1939 programs through these photographs since our own Holy Week, as Father Peter notes, uncannily mirrors the darkness of the Passion itself from Christ’s  betrayal, suffering, and death that gained everlasting life for humanity. Instead, perhaps to bring solace, given the frightening state of the world, the 1939 news clippings present the children engaged with contrasting phases of Easter’s significance, one dark and one bright with promise.

The children’s adoration of Christ at the Last Supper, shown over the altar, dramatically highlights Christ’s pensive awareness of a disciple’s betrayal and its consequences, the launching of the dark.

Alternatively, the children’s prior prayers on Palm Sunday at the Burd Children’s Memorial suggest hope for their own resurrection, like the Burd children’s, as promised by Christ’s self-sacrifice on the cross, represented in the one that rises in blessing within the sculptural scene. It fascinates me to see this funerary monument, intended also for religious education, used as a focus for prayer—by children responding to Christ’s covenant with children.

During that Holy Week of 1939, led at times by children (the community’s precious legacy to the future), the entire church, physical, divine, human, past and present, celebrated Easter together. And will again.

—Suzanne Glover Lindsay, St. Stephen’s historian and curator

About Friday Reflections:

Every Friday, Father Peter and Suzanne Glover Lindsay share written reflections highlighting a particular theme. This week's Friday Reflection explores the Arc of Suffering. Check out Friday Reflection Part I, where Father Peter discusses Holy Week in the age of the coronavirus pandemic.