Having been to the library this morning, my actual Easter-adjacent reading is Why Angels Fall: A Journey Through Orthodox Europe from Byzantium to Kosovo by Victoria Clark and Antisemitism: Here and Now by Deborah Lipstadt. (This might seem an odd choice but given the content of the Holy Week services, I always feel a bit of a moral obligation to give some thoughtful attention to antisemitism over Easter.)
My father gets to choose where my parents go for dinner this Sunday because it's his Easter, but he's suffering from indecision because where he really wants to go is the Puritan in Manchester, NH, that Greek community institution (my grandmother worked in their ice cream shop as a teenager). And of course their Easter specials won't be till next Sunday, which is why my parents will probably go then. He says he's spiritually Greek. What he means is that he really likes their lamb.
As for me, I think I'm going to go to Magdalen College Chapel tomorrow at noon because their Good Friday liturgy is featuring Tallis's Lamentations of Jeremiah.
I was in Durham earlier in the week and made it to half of Evensong on Tuesday evening by racing up the hill at high speed the minute my work appointments were done for the day. I might not have made the effort were it not for the news about Notre Dame: you might think you can always visit another time, but it isn't always true. Naturally there were prayers for Notre Dame, "our fellow World Heritage site."
At the top of the nave was a tall wooden cross hung with burgundy fabric. After the service everyone just filtered out, some people stopping to talk with the priests, but I couldn't resist the instinct to go up and kiss the cross. These Orthodox instincts, I don't know.
By Easter (but which Easter?!) I'll probably have reached my limit with church services, and stay home. We'll see.