"Let us pray together that nations move toward effective disarmament, particularly nuclear disarmament, and that world leaders choose the path of dialogue and diplomacy instead of violence." Pope Leo XIV | |
from Frost & Fire
Elizabeth-Anne Stewart, 1985
RESURRECTION
Clever. Quite clever.
A marvelous conjuring trick, guaranteed to baffle, astound
the wisest of us.
Houdini-style, He left behind
the linen bindings,
first imprinting them
with His own bloody image.
The head cloth, He rolled up
into a spherical joke,
bequeathing it a private place
perhaps in mockery
of the stone now gone.
Quite an artist, yes, indeed,
with a sense of humor, too...
Oh, the laughter
of the empty tomb!
She came early
on the first day
in the dark
and found nothing
where the stone had been,
that significant stone.
She ran
to proclaim
emptiness:
"They have taken my Lord away, and I don't know where..."
Like the tortoise and the hare,
they raced
to see for themselves.
She wept
and still weeping, looked,
and seeing no corpse
but only a seraphic vision,
lamented the absent God,
the One they'd taken.
Then the impostor gardener
gave Himself away
by naming her.
In the naming,
she knew Him
and clung
like one shipwrecked
clings to driftwood.
But He, chortling, said:
"Go and find and tell --
I'm alive, quite well--
THE LAST LAUGH
IS MINE
FOR ETERNITY!"
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A resource for promoting ecological conversion.
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UPCOMING WORKSHOPS
"Merton's Fourth & Walnut Epiphany."
International Thomas Merton Society, Indianapolis Chapter
July 16th, 2:00-4:00 p.m.
All Saints Episcopal Church,
Indianapolis, IN
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Archdiocese of Chicago Liturgy Formation
Workshops
St. Paul VIth, Riverside
April 21, 27 & 29. 6:30-8:30 p.m.
St. Daniel the Prophet, Chicago
May 2, 6:00-8:00 p.m.; May 5 & May 8, 6:30-8:30 p.m.
St. Elizabeth Seton, Orland Park
August 24, 26, 27. 7:00-9:00 p.m.
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QUESTIONS FOR REFLECTION
- To what extent is your life in sync with Easter?
- What brings you joy right now?
- In what ways, if at all, are you experiencing darkness?
- What is the basis of your hope and belief?
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Greetings, SBT Readers!
Writing on Holy Thursday evening, it seems strange to be looking ahead to Easter joy. Liturgically speaking, Jesus is still in the Garden of Gethsemane, in that time before his arrest. We, the faithful, have remembered the Last Supper through the washing of feet, the breaking of bread, and the sharing of the cup. Now, we struggle to stay awake, to watch and pray, as Jesus anticipates his betrayal and the agony that awaits him. In the moments before shouts and flickering torches announce the arrival of the mob, we try to remain present, but dread and drowsiness overwhelm us. Then our sleep is shattered, and Good Friday begins...
Liturgical time, however, reassures us that despite the horrors that will unfold, agony and death are not the end of the story. Tortured, mocked, and crucified, Jesus will break free from the imprisonment of the tomb; nothing, not even death on a cross, can suppress his spirit or limit his mission of Love. Death will lose its sting and the grave, its victory!
But liturgical time and "real" time are not always in sync, whether in terms of our own life experience or what is happening globally. The Triduum -- the three most sacred days in the liturgical calendar-- is like a stage play that moves us from feasting with the Bridegroom to the heart of darkness, and from there to the empty tomb, followed by fifty days of exuberant celebration. What if a permanent "Good Friday" seems to have settled on the world? What if we ourselves are still experiencing Golgotha?
Liturgical time may seem artificial, but only if we interpret it through a chronological lens. The Paschal Mystery is not limited by conventional measurements of time; it is not bound by clocks, calendars, or time zones. Rather, it is God's time of timelessness, the time of Kairos, the fullness of time, in which grace continues to be poured out on behalf of suffering humanity, even when we cannot see it, even when we have lost all hope, even when we recoil at the unspeakable horrors afflicting so many people.
Liturgical time holds the promise that despite unspeakable atrocities, despite the most evil and twisted plots and policies, despite the worst that one human can inflict on another, Light is stronger than darkness, Love is more powerful than hate, and God continues to cradle the world. Because of what happened to Jesus and through Jesus, we have the blessed assurance that, ultimately, all will be well: that the God who is so intimately and intricately involved in the human experience will never abandon us or leave us orphaned. This faith, this hope, can either be the stuff of pious conviction or the unrestrained joy of those who have felt the weight of the cross. As I wrote in Jesus the Holy Fool (Sheed & Ward, 1999), "The final word... is not suffering, but a deep-bellied cosmic laugh which will resound through the depths of creation."
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Easter Blessings,
Elizabeth
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LINK TO SCRIPTURE READINGS
On the first day of the week,
Mary of Magdala came to the tomb early in the morning,
while it was still dark,
and saw the stone removed from the tomb.
So she ran to Simon Peter and to the other disciple whom Jesus loved, and told them,
“They have taken the Lord from the tomb,
and we don’t know where they put him.”
So Peter and the other disciple went out and came to the tomb. They both ran, but the other disciple ran faster than Peter and arrived at the tomb first; bending down,
he saw the burial cloths there, but did not enter.
When Simon Peter arrived, he went into the tomb and saw the burial cloths there; the cloth that had covered his head was not with the burial cloths but rolled up in a separate place. Then the other disciple also went in, the one who had arrived at the tomb first, and he saw and believed.
Jn 20:1-9
Each of the synoptic Gospels states that Mary Magdalene, accompanied by other women, goes to anoint Jesus' body on the first day of the week. In Matthew's account, day is dawning; in Mark's Gospel, it is very early, after sunrise; and in Luke's version, Mary and her companions venture to the tomb at daybreak. Even the non-canonical Gospel of Peter mentions that is early in the day. Only in John's Gospel is it still dark -- and there is no mention of other women, though Mary does use the plural "we" when speaking to Peter and the other disciple.
"While it was still dark." Dawn, sunrise and daybreak all suggest hope, emerging light, the advent of something new.
Darkness, however, has opposite connotations: despair, unspeakable grief, the conviction that nothing can change. In the dark, Mary sees that the stone has been removed from the tomb; even though the entrance is gaping wide, she cannot bring herself to look beyond the threshold. Too traumatized to investigate further, she runs away. Ironically, in both Mark's Gospel and the non-canonical Gospel of Peter, she and the other women wonder who will roll away the stone for them. Now, instead of feeling relief, she is afraid, assuming that "they" have stolen Jesus' body.
We're not sure whom she means by "they" -- perhaps the Roman guards, perhaps Herod's soldiers, perhaps followers of Caiphas, the high priest... Because it is dark, she cannot see, and because she cannot see, she forgets all that Jesus predicted about his Passion, Death and Resurrection. Because it is dark, she is blinded by grief and cannot look beyond all she witnessed at the foot of the Cross. Even though Peter and the other disciple, upon seeing the burial cloths, see, believe and go home, Mary is still in the dark-- so much so that neither the sight of two angels nor the appearance of the Risen Christ opens her eyes. In fact, all is dark until Jesus calls her by name.
When, like Mary Magdalene, we find ourselves in impenetrable darkness, we are sometimes incapable of seeing and believing. Even when there are glimmers of hope, or signs that a new dawn is rising, it is still dark. Fears and wild imaginings get the better of us, until, that is, we begin to remember for in remembering we know to whom we belong and who calls us by name. And in that remembering, we are re-membered and become whole again.
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