There is nothing quite like coming home.
I spent Thursday evening at church with a good friend of mine. And Friday afternoon at the same church, remembering the death. Remembering the darkness. Remembering that last breath. Remembering the burial.
I did my first prostrations. Ever. I learned again, or rather, had it underlined, what it means to worship. In a world without kings or queens, it's hard for us to understand what allegiance or worship or even bowing means. But to cross yourself and bow your forehead to the ground makes it darn hard to forget that the shroud and icon you are about to kiss more than stand for the Very Shroud, the Very Icon of the Most High. They are part of the original.
It's amazing to consider that this tradition is unbroken. Not centuries nor persecutions nor anything else have managed to stop this memorial. We keep it. And because we keep the memorial, we also get to keep the Miracle.
But back to coming home. I curled up in my own bed last night, safe next to my snoring husband, cozy between my own sheets, and thought about coming home.
There's nothing quite like it, is there?
And I'm understanding better the Fast. It is all sorts of things. It is complex. But right now I'm seeing clearly that for the last 6 weeks, we have been living a stunted human life. We have not eaten meat. We have not eaten dairy. The very strong have not eaten oil, or wine, or even anything cooked. We have not had sex. And truly, sex is essential in a marriage relationship. J and I have felt the lack, and not just physically.
But I'm starting to get it. We have fasted to draw into sharp contrast the withered from the full, the robust from the gaunt, the feast from the fast. We have given up part of the fullness and the freedom of our lives so that we can understand, really and fully, what exactly is given to us in the Passion of our Lord. We are given ourselves back. We were made to take joy in the good that is all things He has made. Our sin has bent us and made it hard if not impossible to fully participate in that joy and goodness. By death, He has defeated death. When we die with Him, we rise also with Him. It's not just so much imagery and myth. It's real.
We volunteered to wander in the wilderness so that when we are called Home, we might come, truly.
We taste tonight a part of the coming Feast when all things that look upon His face and love Him are freed to be what they were made to be.
We taste tonight the present Feast. Even now, we live fully. Even now, the Kingdom is come. Even now. Even here. Even in this. Even in all the trouble. The Kingdom is here.
I have goosebumps already.
Soon, I will type, and sing, the Great Hymn.
For now, I wait in the hush, in the garden, and I watch. The Dawn is coming!
I spent Thursday evening at church with a good friend of mine. And Friday afternoon at the same church, remembering the death. Remembering the darkness. Remembering that last breath. Remembering the burial.
I did my first prostrations. Ever. I learned again, or rather, had it underlined, what it means to worship. In a world without kings or queens, it's hard for us to understand what allegiance or worship or even bowing means. But to cross yourself and bow your forehead to the ground makes it darn hard to forget that the shroud and icon you are about to kiss more than stand for the Very Shroud, the Very Icon of the Most High. They are part of the original.
It's amazing to consider that this tradition is unbroken. Not centuries nor persecutions nor anything else have managed to stop this memorial. We keep it. And because we keep the memorial, we also get to keep the Miracle.
But back to coming home. I curled up in my own bed last night, safe next to my snoring husband, cozy between my own sheets, and thought about coming home.
There's nothing quite like it, is there?
And I'm understanding better the Fast. It is all sorts of things. It is complex. But right now I'm seeing clearly that for the last 6 weeks, we have been living a stunted human life. We have not eaten meat. We have not eaten dairy. The very strong have not eaten oil, or wine, or even anything cooked. We have not had sex. And truly, sex is essential in a marriage relationship. J and I have felt the lack, and not just physically.
But I'm starting to get it. We have fasted to draw into sharp contrast the withered from the full, the robust from the gaunt, the feast from the fast. We have given up part of the fullness and the freedom of our lives so that we can understand, really and fully, what exactly is given to us in the Passion of our Lord. We are given ourselves back. We were made to take joy in the good that is all things He has made. Our sin has bent us and made it hard if not impossible to fully participate in that joy and goodness. By death, He has defeated death. When we die with Him, we rise also with Him. It's not just so much imagery and myth. It's real.
We volunteered to wander in the wilderness so that when we are called Home, we might come, truly.
We taste tonight a part of the coming Feast when all things that look upon His face and love Him are freed to be what they were made to be.
We taste tonight the present Feast. Even now, we live fully. Even now, the Kingdom is come. Even now. Even here. Even in this. Even in all the trouble. The Kingdom is here.
I have goosebumps already.
Soon, I will type, and sing, the Great Hymn.
For now, I wait in the hush, in the garden, and I watch. The Dawn is coming!
1 comment:
We were so glad you were there with us! Christ is Risen!
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