PHOTO: Mary van Balen For just as from the heavens
the rain and snow come down
and do not return there
till they have watered the earth,
making it fertile and fruitful,
giving seed to the one who sows
and bread to the one who eats,
so shall my word be
that goes forth from my mouth;
my word shall not return to me void,
but shall do my will,
achieving the end for which I sent it.
Is 55,10-11
I love the scope of Holy Saturday readings, from creation springing from the Word of God to Mary Magdalene and the other Mary encountering the risen Christ. Immersed in these Scriptures, one may sense the long wait, the movement from matter’s beginnings to early life; from epoch to epoch; from early humans to Jesus’ ancestors; from the promise of the Messiah to his coming.
While the earth waits for winter thaw and softening ground able to receive seed, we have waited through Lent. It seems long. When my children were younger, we spent the day before Easter coloring eggs, baking hot cross buns to share with neighbors and cleaning the house for the coming celebration. Easter was not yet, but its light and joy was already spreading into our hearts.
With Jesus’ death fresh in their hearts and his resurrection unimagined and yet to come, Jesus’ followers would have had a different experience.Waiting when the past has broken hearts and the future uncertain is a darker time. As the Vigil’s readings attest, God’s people have known many period of painful waiting. We still do.
The world on this Easter Vigil night is reeling with death, violence, and war. In many countries people are waiting not for Easter celebration, but for cessation of gun fire, for freedom, for a way to provide food and shelter for their families.
In some places the wait has proved too long, and hope has died. I heard a man interviewed on NPR today who spoke of his seven years as a political prisoner as a time when “hope died.” When he heard of the revolution taking place in his country, he could not believe it. Then, when it continued for the second day he wondered if it might be true. Finally, hope stirred again in his heart. What had seemed dead had come to life; what he believed impossible was happening.
I imagine Jesus’ followers had similar feelings. When Jesus died on the cross, something inside them died as well: their expectations, as unformed as they might have been, were dashed. Their Messiah was dead and buried in a borrowed tomb. No wonder many had difficulty believing when the two women came telling them that they had seen Jesus, that he was risen from the dead.
In our lives, we, too, wait. We have hopes that have died, expectations that have not been met, dreams that have been dashed. I think of this as I hear the readings. i fidget. They are long. They remind me not only of the yearnings of God’s people, but also of my own. Celebrating the Vigil Mass is just one stop on our journeys. We come at different places in our lives, and yet, we are also one people on one journey: The transformation and salvation of all.
This liturgy allows us to pause together, to pray, and to lift one another’s hearts: Jesus has risen. The future, while a long time coming, is no longer unknown. Light will triumph over darkness; joy over sorrow; life over death. For each of us and for all of us together.
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