Monday, April 13, 2009

Easter Weekend

Good Friday darkened evening service. Gathered. Not many. Some children. Some students. Some adults. In the back, some Jesus art. Some crucifixion pictures. Windows back onto that beginning.

And it feels. Oh. I think it feels like straw. Disintegrated straw blown in here. All of us. Turning in the narrow-spectrum, incandescent light. Then the music begins, and we sing. We are human again. And behind me, there.

I imagine because of the voices behind me. The woman’s and the man’s exquisite voices wrapping themselves around me. That I am. Well. That this is it. This is the kingdom of God. This is one of the many chambers in the City of God.

Then Sunday. Sunny Sunday. The bright colors flame through the entry way and up the stairs and into the make-do sanctuary. The rented sanctum sanctorum. The little girls in pink tights. Smiling. The little boys loudly laughing. Ram-jetting all around.

I don’t know. The singing seems quick. Silvery and bright. And again the same woman and man behind. And again now. Lovely. In the natural light broadly washing over us, wave after wave. As the particles carom and ricochet all about the place and burst. Positively burst open everywhere.

And we stand on the western beach of the Sea of Galilee. It’s morning. The waves have just begun to stand up in the breeze bringing us the sun. The waves with the sound of eternity in them. We are eating fish and bread. Our garments flutter in the brightness.

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