And now we wait…

Holy Saturday brings us to our vigil. Just like Mary and the apostles spent these hours wondering what had happened, so we do as well. Maybe we have our own crosses that we carry. Maybe we mourn losses that leave us feeling lost and empty. But today is a day of hope for those of us who believe.

Meet Mary Magdalene. She loved Jesus and her grief must have been overwhelming. Walk with her in this reflection and let yourself be present to the Lord as he appears to YOU today to restore your peace, hope, and joy. Open the readings for today, and there are many for the Easter Vigil, and let the Word of God wash over you.

See you tomorrow for our final reflection. Know that we are praying for you, and you are loved.
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Link to Today's Readings

This morning, as we lay in the predawn darkness, Mother turned to me and whispered, “blessed are they who mourn.” Every word he ever spoke must have imprinted on her heart as he grew inside her. The bags under her eyes held the weight of these excruciating days and sleepless nights. Still tinged crimson with the blood of his wounds, my hands reached for hers. I wanted to comfort her, but I have been the inconsolable one. The image of her arms around his battered, broken body burns in my memory. She embraced his lifeless form, not holding him close for herself but rather holding him out for the world. No bruise, no scourge, no gash, no nail, no cross, not even his very death seems to have fractured the foundation of faith that rests just below the surface of her suffering.

Last night, John and the others’ paced the floor with shattered faces as if searching for a rope to rescue them from despair. Some were already talking of heading back to Galilee to start fishing again. Peter’s once broad, confident shoulders slumped, crushed and inconsolable with the unshakeable shame of denying our Jesus. Receiving the news of Judas’ suicide, his downcast eyes spoke silent understanding. I understood too. What is life without Him?

My tear-soaked mind roamed fields of memories. Joy and laughter accompanied our group as Jesus restored wholeness and life wherever he went. We trusted he was the Holy One - now how could it be? My memory rested on that day in Magdala when I stood by the door of the synagogue where he stopped to preach. Usually, the rabbis’ empty words and implicit condemnation pounded like nails into the coffin of my heart. But when Jesus proclaimed that he had come to fulfill the prophet Elijah’s promise to set the captives free, a shard of light pierced through me.

After the Shabbat service, a young couple maneuvered their small daughter toward Jesus. The little girl wore a toddler’s frock and the way her parents gestured at her made it clear she could not hear or speak. Her silent faced turned up to Jesus and his tender, searching eyes caught hers. Their smiles radiated the warm of intimate familiarity. She lifted her arms as he gathered her to his chest and nuzzled his cheek against hers. Then he kissed the crown of her head, gazed in her eyes, and said, “How have you been, my beloved child?” In that moment, the child’s voice replied like a crystal bell, “Jesus, I love you.”

“I loved you first, my little one,” he laughed. My heart opened like a gaping wound, and I ached to be loved like that. I groped for a nearby bench and held my sobbing head between my hands. When I looked up, I beheld Jesus’s eyes piercing the layers of my being into the depths of my soul. His face beamed as he said, “Mary, how have you been, my beloved child?”

In the weeks and months that followed, the power that channeled through Jesus touched and healed my deepest wounds. Rejection, abandonment, shame, fear, powerlessness, hopelessness, and confusion fled my soul as his love burst open the sealed tomb of my heart. How could it be that he lay dead in a sealed tomb of his own?

Rising before dawn this morning, Mother again whispered, “Blessed are they who mourn.” Her delicate fingers unlatched a small, carved wooden box. I noticed that Jesus’ blood still marked the front of her dress and right sleeve. The box cradled the gifts the three kings presented when Jesus was born – gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Mother saved them for what she called “the appointed time.” With a sense of mission, she instructed me to take the myrrh and use the gold to purchase what was still needed to anoint Jesus’ body. I yearned to touch his skin and kiss his feet one last time and was ever grateful to serve him in death as he served us in life.

The dewy grass painted my ankles as Mary and I hastened to the tomb. I looked ahead and saw the brutal outline of two Roman guards on either side of a massive stone blocking our way. YHWH Elohim, I prayed, let me serve him now as he served us then. Suddenly, the earth buckled beneath my wet feet, a thunderous roar rattled my chest, and a blinding brightness blistered my eyes. The guards stood in frozen fear beside the now gaping tomb. Atop the stone that had blocked the way, a brilliant, winged angel appeared. Fear seized my heart and shoved me to the ground. “Do not be afraid,” the angel’s bright voice chimed. “I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified. He is not here, for he has been raised just as he said.”

My mind stretched and flailed to grasp the angel’s message. Just as he said…. just as he said….? Yes, just as he said! His life-giving words flooded my soul: “And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself….And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back again and take you to myself, so that where I am you also may be....I will not leave you orphans, I will come to you….Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid!” As his words crystallized in my mind and heart, I realized that Mother had known that no tomb could hold Jesus! Yes, she said, “blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted!”

Mary and I turned on winged feet to carry the angel’s message to the brethren, when there he stood before us. Jesus, whose crucified body I’d come to anoint, held out his pierced hands and asked, “Mary, how have you been, my beloved child?”

“Rabbouni,” I exclaimed, falling to embrace the blessed feet that crushed the enemy’s reign and forged humanity’s final exodus. “Do not cling to me, beloved daughter, but go tell the brethren I will see them in Galilee soon.” From then until all time, my life magnifies the Lord with eternal good news; ALLELUIA, CHRIST RISEN!