Christ is Risen! Alleluia!
Having spent my Spring Break working on a paper I took the opportunity to escape on a mini-retreat from the city to my spiritual home, the Community of St. John.
On Holy Thursday we processed to the "Garden" where all night adoration was. The room was full and standing in the back in the warmth and glow of the candles reflecting on the Apostles falling asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane, I was reminded of the faithful friends waiting with my Mother around my Father's hospital bed when I arrived home. Like Christ he was in agony, and his friends were keeping watch. (Yes, I know Christ's friends fell asleep, but go with it ok?!) All of those at my Father's bedside, the night I arrived were men. They were waiting, watching and praying with their friend in his agony, praying the prayers that he himself could not pray. Like Mary received John at the foot of the Cross, my Mother too received the gift of Love in her moments of grief. Man after man came to me, telling me that they would do anything for my Mother around the house that my Father would have done. That they had promised him that, that they had promised to care for her.
I had to leave the room where the sacrament was exposed. Tears streaming down my face, treading softly through the Cloister I stepped out into the cool night and stood in front of the Chapel. The night air was refreshing, and soon I was surrounded by the warm arms of a dear friend.
Sorrow though gives way to joy and the Garden of Sorrow and Agony of Holy Thursday gives way to the Garden of Ressurection.
Mary Magdalene finds herself searching desperately for the One who gave her life and is so caught up in her sorrow that she almost misses Him. I wonder how many of us in sorrow like Mary almost miss the soft calling of our names by Christ.
The Ressurection is filled with joy, but we do not forget the events of the previous days. The only way to the Joy is through the Cross. The sorrow is not fogotten, but it, like our hearts is transformed by Love.
On Holy Thursday we processed to the "Garden" where all night adoration was. The room was full and standing in the back in the warmth and glow of the candles reflecting on the Apostles falling asleep in the Garden of Gethsemane, I was reminded of the faithful friends waiting with my Mother around my Father's hospital bed when I arrived home. Like Christ he was in agony, and his friends were keeping watch. (Yes, I know Christ's friends fell asleep, but go with it ok?!) All of those at my Father's bedside, the night I arrived were men. They were waiting, watching and praying with their friend in his agony, praying the prayers that he himself could not pray. Like Mary received John at the foot of the Cross, my Mother too received the gift of Love in her moments of grief. Man after man came to me, telling me that they would do anything for my Mother around the house that my Father would have done. That they had promised him that, that they had promised to care for her.
I had to leave the room where the sacrament was exposed. Tears streaming down my face, treading softly through the Cloister I stepped out into the cool night and stood in front of the Chapel. The night air was refreshing, and soon I was surrounded by the warm arms of a dear friend.
Sorrow though gives way to joy and the Garden of Sorrow and Agony of Holy Thursday gives way to the Garden of Ressurection.
Mary Magdalene finds herself searching desperately for the One who gave her life and is so caught up in her sorrow that she almost misses Him. I wonder how many of us in sorrow like Mary almost miss the soft calling of our names by Christ.
The Ressurection is filled with joy, but we do not forget the events of the previous days. The only way to the Joy is through the Cross. The sorrow is not fogotten, but it, like our hearts is transformed by Love.
posted by Daughter of St. John | 11:57 PM
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