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Alone on SaturdaySaturday, April 3, 2010
Isaiah 55:6-12 "For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways," declares the Lord. "As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts ... My word goes out from my mouth and will not return to me empty. It will accomplish what I desire and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. "You will go out in joy and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field will clap their hands."
Luke 24:4-8 Except ... today. Since the crucifixion yesterday, Jesus is dead but not yet risen. Where is he? That's not so clear, but he's not here. So the Catholic church, for this one day out of all the days of the year, does not celebrate the Eucharist. There is no Mass because there is no master. We do know the end of the story. "His return is very close and so we'd better be believin' that our God is an awesome God." So after sundown on Saturday comes the Easter Vigil. A vigil is defined as "an occasion of keeping awake for some purpose." Our waiting is rich with anticipation, not fear. Our loneliness reaches out toward the companion nearly here. To slightly tweak Joshua's words, "Be bold, be strong, the Lord thy God is nearly with thee." Just like I wouldn't want to be born on February 29, I'd rather not die on the day of Easter Vigil. I don't want to get caught in that kind of chronological carelessness. People do die today, though. They have already and they still will. And they don't need to be afraid. I know that's true, even if I shiver a little thinking about it. This short time is more like a fast God uses to increase my desire rather than a day God takes off. Jesus made his future clear when he said, "I will be with you always, even unto the end of the world. I am the same: yesterday, today and forever." In the aching moments of today's silence, I want to know my aloneness as deeply as I can - all the more to leap and laugh in the morning, running through the streets with shouts of joy: "Jesus is alive!" Oh Lord, you will turn my mourning into dancing; you will remove my black sash and clothe me with joy. My heart wants to sing to you and not be silent. I will give you thanks forever. I am quiet, and you are coming. --- Psalm 30 |