As we enter that dark night, the darkest of all
nights, we are alone without my God. The night of Good Friday is a night beyond
comprehension.
On Saturday, we sit
by our spiritual tomb on the darkest of all days. Yes, our night has become our
day. Without my Lord, who are we?
Christ is dead. Christ is lying in the tomb. Christ is but a memory. Christ
escapes our hopes.
Our spiritual
agony is living Christ's Passion.
Our spiritual death is giving up my ways and
understanding.
Our spiritual crowning of thorns is penetrating my passion
mystery.
Our spiritual scourging is being one with others' suffering.
Our
spiritual death on my cross is hanging for the duration of my transformation.
In the transforming, we are washed of our old selves; cleansed of our Godlessness;
baptized in our name of grace; we walk in
the
light of our Risen
Lord. As we now penetrate Light no longer consumed by deadly darkness, we are in
union with our Divine's will. We walk in the light of a new creation. We are born in
Christ's Love.
As Mary Magdalen once did, we move beyond even the fear of the light of a new
day. We are in the deepest peace to know that we know. The peace resides in living
memory of our passion with our Risen Lord.