After a fairly lengthy gap from writing on this space I'd like to offer a reflection on the recent Lenten period during which time I shared worship spaces within the Anglican and Catholic traditions. My text for the period has turned out to be the Gospel of Mary Magdalene which I have found profound alongside commentary by Jean Yves Leloup. The following reflection is more poetic in nature which the topic lends itself to. Each block of writing is guided by a quote from the Gospel of Mary Magdalene.
LOOKING AT EASTER
Looking to (Si)Lent for Wisdom
'All the elements of nature are interwoven and united with each other' (Mary 7:5-6)
This year a Lenten journey.
A commitment to hold the whole.
Beholding relationships that sour.
Beholding relationships that deepen..
The Companion looks with me at the mess.
And requires nothing but a gaze.
Let it be in it's current state.
Yet I can't resist taking on the burdens of the world.
Perhaps too much, too often, too soon.
But simple realities break through with their easy yoke.
In a moment of stillness: Everything is upheld by Silence.
Woven together like the Celtic knot.
Looking into the Face of Nothing
'All that has been composed will be decomposed. Everything returns to its roots' (Mary 7:7-8)
We come now to the moment of abuse.
And of stripping back. Not chosen. Not resisted. The altar is bare.
The Teacher becomes nothing.
Loses all identity, status and influence.
All is taken...
Not only is it violence which strips.
But ordinary life will also lead us to...
The dreadful terrible reality.
Look into the face of Nothing where Jesus and God and Institution and person become
Gladness that the tradition upholds this wisdom.
I talk of Nothing yet I find a face...
Looking into the Face
'Hence forth I travel toward repose, where time rests in the Eternity of Time, I go now into Silence' (Mary 17:4-6)
The stripping seems essential.
What identity I choose, what preferences I have dissolve.
But I am not ready for the resurrection.
There seems too much grief.
Yet faith speaks of more.
Maybe resurrection can only come from Nothing.
Nothing becomes my friend.
A diamond which slices through my poorly placed perceptions.
On Easter morning the women look into the face
Of He who became Nothing.
Through teared eyes and grief.
The desire is to anoint and love.
That desire becomes Encounter with Something.
The Something is not prevented from Loving.
And I have found something to hope in.