Monday Spiritual Rumination: Sitting at an empty tomb…

It is the week of Easter. The birds sing love songs, the scent of lilies floats on rather cool winds, the sun saunters in and out of clouds, and children are riding bikes and playing ball. Where do I find myself, but sitting outside an empty tomb, huddled and hugging my knees close.

Throughout Lent, my daily fast was to empty myself of something. So I really am not surprised to be making a vigil at the consummate empty—the tomb.

Shall I back up a bit? Last Thursday—the Holy one—was spent tying up loose ends at the parish in which I minister. That evening, we brought our love, our aches, our hopes to the opening of the Triduum. My husband and I washed feet that evening. In that ritual, as I observed the families who bathe each other’s feet and the strangers who care for each other, I knew…