THERE ARE NO WORDS
There are times in the lives of all of us when an experience comes along that stretches us, makes it hard to understand, explain and grasp. Sometimes the experience is beauty and loveliness, for example, the birth of a child. At other times the event might be terrible, ugly and tragic, a fatal auto accident, the atrocities happening in the Ukraine. And when
we move from such moments and later try to explain to another what we heard, what happened, what it was like, we fail; there simply are no adequate words.
For more than 2000 years Christians have tried to put into words the Easter story. The Passion gospel is proclaimed during this Holy Week and narrates the story of the Last Supper, the arrest and torture of Jesus and His crucifixion and death. On this Sunday of Easter, we proclaim the story of the empty tomb: Jesus has been raised from death and now lives again.
So it is that we can tell the story, just like we can say that at a certain time and place a precious child was born and similarly at such and such a time, a terrible and fatal accident occurred. And yet the narration only tells a part of the story and there is so much more to really begin to understand the event. It is moving beyond the story and into the real meaning of the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus that brings one into the place where we struggle to find the words.
Music, poetry, literature, drama, opera, art in every form has all sought to lead us into the depths of the Jesus story. Often all of these most noble of efforts are helpful in lifting us beyond mere words toward a mystery as elusive as it is alluring. For we are seeking to know something of God, the ineffable and omnipotent One, and still, there are no words. Yet the magnitude of the Easter story impels us to seek to understand, something!
Our tradition asserts that this broken world, including you and me, with all of the evil, fear, darkness and sadness of our time, has been embraced by the Son of the Living God,
nailed to a primitive cross to suffer, die and be buried. And early in the morning of the third day, this same Jesus rose from death, conquering the power of evil and death forevermore. On the first Easter morning, Hope was born. It is not a theoretical and distant Hope, rather one that is available to all. On Easter the Church celebrates in a particular way the Sacrament of Baptism, initiating a person into the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
There is a stirring in people, an inner something that longs to grasp this enormous truth, for which there are no words. Christ is Risen and in the midst of all the activities of humankind, the joyful and the sad, Hope is present and can never be diminished. To move beyond the story this Eastertime, to let the inadequate words lead us deep into our heart
and to listen to that inner longing for Hope and walk in the promise of Easter is the gift God offers every one of us.
All of us who have been privileged to share our lives with a dog dread
the day when our dog ages and can no longer continue in long established and mutually appreciated routines.
My English Labrador Retriever, Lily, has been a fixture at the Parish for more than 10 years as was her predecessor, Daisy, for many years before.
Lily is now more than 13 years old and unable to climb the impossibly steep stairs in Charlestown.
So she has retired from her active ministry and is at home with family – enjoying a more quiet life out of the city.
\She is well with some of the issues that come with a dog of her age.
Many parishioners have enjoyed coming to know this gentle loving Lab, as the picture shows!