Yesterday was the crucifixion, and about our feigned busyness today is a nagging sense of loss, lingering.
“Oh yeah, I guess I should …”
* Shake it off. We’ve got work to do.
“No wait, let it inform your day.”
* Remember tomorrow.
* Barbeques. Baseball. Chores.
Like past bouts of astringent discipline, we just can’t focus today, especially on something that profound. We don’t want to think about it actually. It’s like ADHD by circumstance, but what can we expect? We have an ethereal obligation to grieve – flickering from sincere to simulated – speckled with belief about the love story’s end that jabs us with double-sided guilt. It’s a passion play, a re-enactment, the reincarnation of emotions and past events, far-reaching, incomprehensible, gilt-edge, transparent. It’s right there.
Good Friday, then Easter.
Loss, then celebration?
How can they relate?
* Gas mileage. Income-tax returns. Work.
Cleaving focus are notions – like squalls – of perpetual stall. It’s an anxiety we have about all life actually, and longing for Messiah. What if we get stuck here? What if he never comes? Three days are really just one day untethered, but how does burial affect time’s pendulum? Tetelestai, it is finished! Layed to rest are all expectations, plans, and striving. From here, do we grieve, hope, despair, or celebrate? Do we lash out in vengeance or prep for war? Can we do anything? In shock, numbing uncertainty replaces last week’s “set your faces toward Jerusalem.” We’re in the grave too.
“But we’ve got so much work to do!”
* Stay busy! Pretend work matters today …
* It does actually.
* but the passion says we’re already dead, right?
We just can’t grasp the gravity, historic impact, or personal implications of yesterday and tomorrow. That labyrinth of shoulds, should haves, and paradoxical logic is overwhelming! It’s so much easier to check out so we don’t have to sort it out. Quiet anxiety with spasmodic thoughtfulness becomes our shared witness. The phenomenon of today is surely a survival mechanism too, though – another slighted mercy. Busyness becomes an escape, but necessary to perpetuate life as pups – however sophomoric – eventually leading to compete and utter surrender in dependence, with or without trust. Can we ever harbor trust fully anyway? Is that not the kernel of faith?
“Faith is the substance of things hoped for,
the evidence of things not seen” (Heb 11:1).
Substance of what? In denial and ignorance we careen toward a dawn we can’t fathom or understand. What an unsettling “day of rest”!
Does this week have two Sabbaths: Saturday and Sunday?
Or does time stand still for 72 hours?
So today, we go about busyness, endeavoring to sustain coherence by tilling, cooking, and prepping. Untethered from the wilderness of daily life, we’re tethered to the ground of all Being even more intimately with Christ, bringing heaven to the lowest parts of our lives. In the garden and in the grave he becomes the umbilical that transforms this middle day into a womb. Yesterday, the real work was done: the seed was planted, and the seed only germinates in the dark place. Tomorrow, the real work continues.
“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ unto good works,
which God hath preordained that we should walk in them” (Eph 2:10).
The weather’s so nice, we intermittently recall what time of year it is again, pondering words like: Golgotha, sheol, Triduum, and Wild Goose Chase.
“Aren’t we glad that’s over!”
* It’s not really over though.
* Don’t tell me it’s just beginning!?
* There’s so much work to do!
For now, please, Shabbat Shalom.
That work is done we can be sure.
Relish the peace of it,
and expect miracles.
“He went down to the lower parts of the earth?” – Eph 4:9
Acoustic: Let Her Go
Artist: Passenger, All the Little Lights (2012)