Beautifully said, Malcolm!
Like all of us, I have been drawn deeply into this strange Easter when so much of the outwardly familiar has been taken away, and yet the inwardly familiar, the great Easter story of Death and Resurrection, has suddenly been renewed and become more agonisingly close, more vividly relevant to our lives than ever. But, like so many, I am deeply distressed at not being able to gather in church this morning, and to receive communion in community, to meet Christ ‘risen in bread, and revelling in wine’, as I put it in a sonnet long ago. But this Easter he calls me to discern him in new ways and in different places. He is risen indeed, and if I cannot go to church then where am I to find him? That is the question my new poem seeks to address, and if it is a question you ask yourselves…
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The sun has set and the Vesper Lights flicker and glow
After a full morning and afternoon of meetings and worship preparation
A delightful late afternoon with my sweetheart
Enjoying the sun on our deck
Enjoying a short walk along the river
Enjoying time relaxing and being still
Now as my eyelids grow heavy
I lift this humble prayer to you
Dona Nobis Pacem
Grant Us Peace
A wee prayer from the heart of your Padre…
On this Holy Saturday as Jesus’s body laid in the tomb we remember. According to tradition, Jesus went down to the realm of the dead and broke the chains of sin and death. He cast wise the prison doors by bringing the Gospel to those who had no opportunity to hear it.
Regardless though, we remember. I remember when I was a kid I went to see if a friend of mine could come out to play. It was Holy Saturday and his mom said that he couldn’t come out to play because it was Holy Saturday. Years later I now understand. We are in such an all-fire hurry to get to Easter Sunday that we forget what the disciples and the women (including Jesus’s mother Mary) endured.
On this Holy Saturday I remember… and I pray… May the Spirit in her infinite wisdom and compassion guide us through the Valley of the Shadows. Once again She draws me to the words of my spiritual mentor Thomas Merton.
He wrote the following in his poem, “The Trappist Cemetery—Gethsemane” (from In the Darkness Before Dawn: New Selected Poems of Thomas Merton, p. 34)
Then will your graves, Gethsemane, give up their angels,
Return them to their souls to learn
The songs and and attitudes of glory.
Then will creation rise again like gold
Clean, from the furnace of your litanies:
The beasts and trees shall share your resurrection,
And a new world be born from these green tombs.
As we contemplate this night O Lord, May this new world indeed be born from these green tombs. Out of the depths O Lord, hear our prayer.
The sun has set and the Vesper Lights flicker and glow
As the sun set on this Good Friday evening
As the Sabbath begins
We give thanks for the ministry and worship of this day
We give thanks for dear friends who are family
We pray for those who are struggling in the darkness
For those who walk through the Valley of the Shadows
Protect them dear Lord, and comfort them
May your peace be upon us as we lift this humble prayer to you
Dona Nobis Pacem
Grant Us Peace
A wee prayer from the heart of your Padre…
When Saint Francis of Assisi received the stigmata (the five wounds of Christ) on September 14th, 1224 he held them until his death two years later in 1226. The stigmata was a life changing experience for Francis. This experience in turn influenced so many others. There was a close relationship between the Franciscans and Thomas Merton. He first attempted to join the Franciscan Order after his conversion to Catholicism. They didn’t think he was suitable for that life and should become a diocesan priest. Later on he joined the Trappists (Order of the Cistercians of the Strict Observance – OCSO) in 1941. Merton always maintained a strong relationship with the friars minor and their patron.
On the first Sunday in Lent, 1942 Merton was accepted as a novice at the monastery (Abbey of Our Lady of Gethsemane) and thus began his journey as a monk/priest/poet/writer/mystic. During this season of Lent in 2020, I have been walking this Lenten journey with Merton and with our Lord in a way that I had never journeyed before in all of my years of ministry.
As we enter Holy Saturday, the day Jesus was in the garden tomb, it is a time of introspection, prayer, and silence. The day has been heavy with sorrow and grief. As Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus wrapped Jesus’s body and laid it to rest in the tomb, tears surely flowed. For us, in this new reality created by COVID-19, we participate in this time in a new way.
Merton wrote the poem “Early Mass” during a stay in St Joseph’s Infirmary in Louisville. It speaks to this unusual time and the wait between the crucifixion and resurrection.
Gather us God in honeycombs,
My Israel, in the Ohio Valley!
For brightness falls upon our dark.
Death owns a wasted kingdom.
Bless and restore the blind, straighten the broken limb.
These mended stones shall build Jerusalem.
In the Dark Before Dawn: New Selected Poems of Thomas Merton (p. 64)
As I contemplate this time of waiting… as I contemplate the world’s new reality… as I pray for friends and family I have yet to meet who are struggling through this pandemic… I seek the Lord’s healing.
To adapt Merton’s poem… Wrap all of us in your honeycomb of protection… let your brightness fall upon the darkness covering this world… Bless and restore the victims of this pandemic… Bless and protect the workers who care for them… Bless and protect those who are infected and don’t know it… Keep all of us in the honeycomb of isolation for our protection and the protection of others… rebuild us into a community of caring and compassion… Lord in your mercy, hear this prayer…
A wonderful reflection during this interesting Good Friday – Easter. Thank you, Jake ❣️
Along with every other Christian on the planet, I’m contemplating the empty tomb in the midst of a pandemic...
— Read on jakeowensby.com/2020/04/10/a-weird-easter/
An incredibly thoughtful Good Friday blog from my seminary classmate and friend Shirley… thank you…
— Read on shirleyhobsonduncanson.com/2020/04/09/the-intersection-of-blessing-and-grace/
Wonderful daily reflections for Holy Week. Thank you so much Jake for your inspiration and your friendship — Read on jakeowensby.com/2020/04/09/being-a-jesus-friend-maundy-thursday/
The sun has set and the Vesper Lights flicker and glow
As this Maundy Thursday comes to a close
I am thankful for my sweetheart
My partner in life, love, and ministry
I am thankful for the calling that we share
Tomorrow we will journey to Golgotha with Jesus
But for now our eyelids are heavy
So we lift this humble prayer to you
Dona Nobis Pacem
Grant Us Peace
A wee prayer from the heart of your Padre…
The bread had been broken and the cup had been poured. Through Scripture and Music we walked with Jesus and the Disciples from the Upper Room to Gethsemane. There we witnessed Jesus praying with all of his heart and soul… Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass… nevertheless, not my will but yours be done.
As Denise narrated and I read the Scripture passages tears came to my eyes a number of times. I kept going back in my mind to Luke 22:19-20 — This is my body, given for you. Do this in remembrance of me… This cup that is poured out for you is the new covenant sealed in my blood.
This is his body… this is his blood… as we moved from Gethsemane to the High Priest’s house, the weight of it kept getting heavier for me. I wept quietly as Peter denied him three times before the cock crowed… In the silence I pondered the scene. As the solo, “Were You There” was played, I again felt the tears rise. In this time of the Pandemic with COVID-19 (Novel Coronavirus) is sweeping the nation and world, I felt the heaviness of this night in a new way. I wept with Peter for all the times that I too have denied Christ. I wept for Jesus as he was beaten and spat upon. We left Jesus there at the High Priest’s house as the dawn was breaking.
In his poem, “The Vine” Thomas Merton spoke of the spring in Gethsemane and Holy Week.
When wind and winter turn our vineyard
To a bitter Calvary,
What hands come out and crucify us
Like the innocent vine?
How long will starlight weep as sharp as thorns
In the night of our desolate life?
How long will moonlight fear to free the naked prisoner?
Or is there no deliverer?
A mob of winds, on Holy Thursday, come like murderers
And batter the walls of our locked and terrified souls.
Our doors are down, and our defense is done.
In the Darkness Before Dawn: New Selected Poems. (p. 53)
As the shadows of night surround us… comfortable in our homes… may we remember the one who faced the mob of winds on Holy Thursday… may we walk with him through the night…
