By Kelsea, SSJD Companion.
Lumen Christi. Deo Gratias.
The Light of Christ. Thanks be to God.
There are countless places we cannot physically carry this light anymore. Amongst the Sisterhood, the Guest House and Refectory, the Chapel and the Reception Desk. No visitors to the Infirmary except those in-house, as with all spaces in St. John’s Convent. No friends, Oblates, and Associates. No guests and few valued staff; family.
Many such places are filled only with us now. It feels much longer, this time apart than the few months that have passed. I wonder that it does not feel like Easter has come, though we daily raise our ‘alleluia’; we still hold vigil at the tomb in these quiet, somber ways. Resurrection has come anyways, as Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, Michael Curry, reminded us Easter morn. It still does not feel like it all these weeks later.
We are still scattered, scorned, trembling, and huddling together in an upper room – away, frigid, and alone. We are wondering what the next right thing might be. Do we prepare for tomorrow… today? On this most sacred of days? Do we wait until the day is done to move forward with our rituals and sanctifications? While it is still dark, morning is drawing near, as night is ebbing away, like the Moon and the Earth, pushing and pulling the waves in their own way. Back and forth, back and forth; getting a bit lost somewhere in the middle there. Slowly rising from the deep; quiet, heavy…light.
Many of these words have been said before, but most days I do not believe.
I do not believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth, and of all things visible and invisible (seen and unseen). I do not believe in one Lord, Jesus Christ, the only begotten Son of God – of the Father. I do not believe He will come again. I do not believe in the Holy Ghost (or Spirit), who with the Father and the Son is worshiped and glorified, and who spoke by the prophets.
How could I when the birds sing at the rising of the Sun?
How could I when the earth below and sky above hold more glory than the men who put these words to the world once before?
How could I when the stranger in me is called ‘neighbour’ and left reeling at the altar?
How could I confess a creed when the dust on my feet has stayed closer to my being than kneeling at the rail has ever given me communion?
While it was still dark… Mary Magdalene went to the tomb.
While it was still dark… the waves presented and gifted gravity and tension between the Earth and the Moon.
While it was still dark the seen and unseen came into being.
And the Life of the world to come.
May we pass through this vale of tears to dawn. May it arrive anyway.
May our lips whisper liturgy to the wind where many wanderers have been before; alone, together… while it was still dark.
The Light of Christ.
Deo Gratias.
