Saturday Morning

He’s dead.

I just can’t believe it. None of us can. It was only a week ago that the crowds thronged to adore him, waving palm branches and praising the king who comes in the name of the Lord. And yesterday, those same crowds called for him to be crucified. And he was: suffocating, painfully, on that cross for hours. Mercifully he died somewhat quickly. Crucifixion can take much, much longer.

God bless Joseph of Arimathea. He alone had the courage to ask Pilate to allow Jesus to be buried properly. God only knows why Pilate consented, but Joseph used what would have been his own tomb someday. The women prepared the body and laid in in the tomb, with its shroud, and then several men rolled the heavy boulder over the entrance to seal it.

I honestly don’t know that I or anyone else around me would have had Joseph’s courage. With our teacher dead, executed as a traitor to the Roman state, so many of us are fearful and melting into the shadows already. I know of several who cheered him last Sunday and who are already trying to cozy up to the temple leaders, as if nothing had happened. I can understand it, I guess. What we had thought would be a world-changing, earth-shaking revolution to restore Israel has…failed. It makes sense, I suppose, to try to make amends with the powerful who still, really, are in charge.

I think what strikes me the most right now is the silence. Where his followers would have been in cheerful conversation, laughing and singing hymns with him, we’re all now dazed, confused, frightened, and sheltering in our own homes, no longer a community but a collection of scared people. And scared people don’t sing hosannas. It’s so very quiet. It’s like there’s another shoe out there waiting to drop, and right now, I don’t think any of us can take it when it does.

It’s the second day of Passover. But I don’t feel like celebrating anything right now. I’m just so lost. God, why did he have to die? Why didn’t you see through to the end your promise of redemption of your people Israel? What do you expect us to do now?

Stop The Noise!

Many, many years ago (ahem), my former college roommate and I spent a long weekend in Las Vegas. We rented a car and drove around to see the sights; we saw Hoover Dam and did the dam tour with all the dam jokes that the dam guide could offer. At night we drive west until we couldn’t see the lights of the city anymore, pulled off the road, and turned off the car.

I grew up in Vermont, so I had a pretty good idea what the sky could look like at night without all the lights of a city, but it was still amazing to see. But what I remember most was the silence. There wasn’t a sound, and probably no one around within miles to make any. I don’t think I’ve ever been in the presence of┬ásilence that pure. I remember the silence as almost a ringing in my ears: as if my brain, so accustomed to a wall of sound, had to make up something to take its place. I remember we both commented on the phenomenon, we were both not-hearing the same thing: the assault of the world in a place where God alone reigned.

I believe the key to being in conversation with God is being able to tune out The World and to listen for his voice. Unfortunately I’m not very good at that. Even when I sit in the relative quiet of my house, in prayerful attempts at receiving whatever Jesus may wish to tell me, I find my mind occupied by its own sounds. Granted, most of the time I have contemporary Christian music on in my head, but still–it’s not quiet. I find it hard to turn everything off, and to just…be. To just listen, to be completely and totally receptive to God’s voice. I know this is one of the places I need to grow, so I can be in better communion with our Lord.