
In Waiting
“Waiting for a death is like waiting for a birth, we must find ways to occupy ourselves”

“Waiting for a death is like waiting for a birth, we must find ways to occupy ourselves”


Re-reading his sermon, it is sobering, and poignant, and inescapable to realize how little different it might have been had he preached it this Lent, this Easter, to the people gathering this week; as though we have been sleepwalking for the decades in between.

For 40 days our prayers drew us closer to you, Lord. To the One who walks with us. The One who makes all things new.
Easter is here.

Both the lectionary readings and the Daily Office readings for Holy Week tell again and again how Christ Jesus was seen after the Crucifixion. The

We want to hold on, don’t we? We want our loved ones to remain present and in their bodies because we don’t want our lives changed, now or ever. Not like that. There is attachment to the way things are. But, when Jesus was on his way to whatever is next, he said, “Let me go.”

What is the view from the foot of the cross from one who stood there and grieved?

It’s an awful place, the bottom…the place where we’ve run out of tears, the place where we feel useless and entirely emptied out. Yet…it’s the place where we have the highest likelihood of encountering God.

Jesus builds it of the elements of the table fellowship of the Passover Feast. He takes two and transforms them, constructing a shell infused with his very being. “This is my body,” he says, passing around a loaf of bread he has blessed. Then he passes them a cup of wine, and all of them drink from it. “This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many,” he tells his followers.

we are nearing the end of the first fifth of the twenty-first century. And I think we can all admit we have hard choices to make too. Sometimes as we face those choices, we are akin to Judas.