Crowds,
crowds thronging,
jostling,
taking in the sights,
preparing for the celebration,
locals and visitors
rub shoulders,
the air
electric,
expectations high,
then
another layer,
an additional
charge,
a buzz,
rumours abound,
"could it be,
is it he?
The one
we have been waiting for?"
Stories are told,
healings,
miracles,
even the raising
of the dead!
Could it be?
Is it he?
Would we be foolish
to dare
to believe?
+
and still today
we ask
these questions...
Holy Saturday, it is not Easter yet, so please don't offer me Easter greeting not yet, and I am not being grumpy, really I am not, but unless we allow the depths of the story to settle within us we miss the point. Over the years this has become more and more important to me, I find it hard to enter into this day as a holiday, though it is a holy day, I don't want to go shopping, don't want to go rushing around, I am not looking forward to watching anything on the TV, I simply want to be...
I want to be aware of the timeless resurrection narrative, the lines between the lines when in the waiting time the Spirit began to stir, awakening the seeds of something completely new yet written through all eternity, older than time itself. I want to be aware of resurrection possibilities in me, and to do that I need to give myself to the silence of it all, give myself even to death, that is death to my ego/false self. I need to enter into a new life in Christ, and the only way I can do that is through letting go. It cannot be forced, cannot be manipulated, it cannot be timetabled or controlled...
This is a Holy Day, and it invites us into the holiness of all days, in a sense we are called to live in a perpetual waiting, waiting for the day that only the Father knows of, the day when all things will be made new. So I receive this day as a gift, and I am not sure what to do with it, but this I do know, it is not Easter yet, but joy will come with the morning....
Nothing to do,
nowhere to go,
numb with grief
and waiting,
minds going over
and over the
events of the last week
inconsolable,
empty,
angry,
yet numb,
numbed by horror
by disbelief,
filled with an aweful
silence,
surely this cannot
be the end,
yet all is black
all is still,
the stone
is in place,
there is nothing
to do
but wait...
|
|
|
|
|
|
Recent Comments