Saturday, 19 April 2014

Sitting through Saturday


We are an impatient people. The Great Vigil Mass, meant to finish with the new day,  tends to start as soon as the sun begins to fade. So sometimes can be celebrated by the early end of the evening with hours until the turning of the day. This bright season means that the Mass will begin after 8.00pm. The brightness of the day suggests a starlit ending is promised.

Much to look forward to.

But first is the waiting, not a thing I am good at to be honest, I can meditate for hours....but waiting always brings out the 'what can I be doing?' in me. To-ing and fro-ing from church all day yesterday and now - stillness.

At the Good Friday Service we were given Holy Communion reserved from Holy Thursday. As I received the host into my hands a thought came into my head 'What if this was all there is? What if, after this receiving of this Sacrament, there was no more? 

What if the God mind changed? What if the Father had decided that Jesus has suffered enough? How, then, would we cope?

There is so much in my life and my character that I know is not 'just me'. So much that I depend on Jesus for. Jesus who teaches, heals and sends. Jesus, who knows what I'm like and loves me anyway. Jesus, who nudges me towards kindness and compassion.  

Who would I talk to on the way to work each morning? Who would show me the good in those I struggle with and the courage in the chances that I take? 

I can well imagine the women in the garden confused in their grief. It was only two...three days ago...? 

Distraught with remembering Jesus' promise that he would be with them always and - somehow -  the relief that he has now moved beyond the pain, anguish and betrayal of the last days. Huddled together with no understanding of how to go on. 

How grief confuses us all. 

Grief keeps the women in place, with a promise of one more gift to give. Martha, no doubt, mixing the spices and herbs. Letting the 'ingredients' run through her fingers, scenting her clothes with loss. Praying that her preparations are, once again, a distraction.  Wanting to believe that there is hope. Hope keeping us waiting.

For today, there is nothing else to do. Like the moving of the tide and the rising of the sun - we do not create the Resurrection, the Risen Christ is not for us to conjure up. It is for the Father to give back the life that was surrendered.

The Resurrection is a gift to us. I used to live in hope of being like Mary Magdalen, the one who didn't give up, the one who was called to witness. This Lent I have had more in common with Martha - fighting the distractions in my desire to get close. Often getting it wrong. But like Martha I have kept on trying. And, like Martha, waiting for the dawn I trust will come.

wordinthehand2014




3 comments:

Claire Bangasser said...

I love this, Word.
Happy Easter!

Lynda said...

Thank you for this reflection. Blessed Easter.

Gelli Ma said...

Thanks and Blessings to you both