Photo: He is Risen

 

Photo: Easter Glory

 

Poem: “Early While It Was Yet Dark” By: Alice Meynell

All night had shout of men and cry

Of woeful women filled his way;

Until that noon of sombre sky

On Friday, clamor and display

Smote him; no solitude had he,

No silence, since Gethsemane.

 

Public was death; but power, but might,

But life again, but victory,

Were hushed within the dead of night,

The shuttered dark, the secrecy,

And all alone, alone, alone

He rose again behind the stone.

 

Photo: He is Risen

 

Spirituality: Salvation

Belief in Jesus calls for a life spent following the way of Jesus in Word and action. Salvation might best be translated into “enjoying the fullness of life.” Salvation is a healing and wholeness process of inner vitality. Salvation begins and is enriched during life on earth and will continue to grow consciously forever with God in heaven. Salvation means so much more than being saved from sin, it is primarily about enjoying the fullness of life.

Poem: “I Thirst” By: Evelyn Varboncoeur

                             Lord, why speak this word – “I thirst” – with your last breath?

Don’t you know that the last words of the dying

Are etched in the memories of the living?

Are pondered in their hearts?

Are cherished as reflecting the full stature of the life of the dying one?

Ah – could it be that this is your intent?

Could it be that this word is a parable,

As were so many words spoken during your life?

Those of us who were with you

Have heard you speak this word before – 

To the woman of Samaria.

And your thirst became in her

“a fountain welling of living water leaping up to eternal life.”

Is this your intent now?

To make known to us this soul-thirst of yours,

This God-sized soul-thirst?

Once again – in your last breath

You cry out your thirst – this time to us

So that for all ages

Your thirst might again become a fountain of living water in us.

Let this word be etched in our memories

Pondered in our hearts

Cherished as reflecting the full stature of your life.

Photo: The Altar at Triduum

 

Poem: "Gethsemane" by Mary Oliver

The grass never sleeps. Or the roses. Nor does the lily have a secret eye that shuts until morning. Jesus said, wait with me. But the disciples slept. The cricket has such splendid fringe on its feet, and it sings, have you noticed, with its whole body, and heaven knows if it ever sleeps. Jesus said, wait with me. And maybe the stars did, maybe the wind wound itself into a silver tree, and didn't move, maybe the lake far away, where once he walked as on a blue pavement, lay still and waited, wild awake. Oh the dear bodies, slumped and eye-shut, that could not keep that vigil, how they must have wept, so utterly human, knowing this too must be a part of the story.

Photo: Our Daily Bread

 

Poem: "The Last Supper” By: Rainer Maria Rilke

They are assembled, astonished and disturbed
round him, who like a sage resolved his fate,
and now leaves those to whom he most belonged,
leaving and passing by them like a stranger.
The loneliness of old comes over him
which helped mature him for his deepest acts;
now he will once again walk through the olive grove,
and those who love him still will flee before his sight.

To this last supper he has summoned them,
and (like a shot that scatters birds from trees)
their hands draw back from reaching for the loaves
upon his word: they fly across to him;
they flutter, frightened, round the supper table
searching for an escape. But he is present
everywhere like an all-pervading twilight hour.