Good Friday ... Holy Saturday
I have intentionally kept silence during this Triduum. I have sought to keep still.
I realize that my reflections now may be too late. After all, Christians throughout the world are already saying, "Alleluia, He is Risen!" Easter Joy is unleashed, and I am glad it is.
But I want to back up a couple of days. Since coming home after the Maundy Thursday service, I have been tongue-tied here. The Good Friday liturgy left me still more silent.
This has been one of those years when I have been able to immerse myself in the Gospel story.
I went to my parish's celebrations of Maundy Thursday and (as my priest said) the day that our Church persists in calling "Good" Friday.
Walking through the death of Jesus, I was reminded of another death. The death of my friend, Jane Pairo.
I enlisted Jane to her job. Weary of my job, I persuaded her to come to my organization and be my boss.
A dear friend and colleague, Jane went with me to a national conference in Philadelphia. While there, she had an attack of diverticulitis. She was taken to the hospital. She had surgery. She should have been all right. I visited her in the hospital, expecting her to recover.
I came home from the conference, expecting her to come home shortly after. Instead, I got a call that she was dead. A blood-clot broke loose and killed her. She was never coming home to me, this woman I had loved and respected.
I came home this week from the Liturgy of Good Friday, expecting to think holy thoughts and do holy deeds.
Instead, I started washing dishes and house-cleaning. It was a few hours later that I realized: that's exactly what I did after I heard that Jane had died: I launched into a frenzy of housecleaning.
I wonder what Mary Magdalene and Mary of Bethany and Mary Virgin did after they saw Jesus die upon the cross. They had had a long day. They had seen Jesus ride into town. They had participated in the feast. Then they had had seen him be arrested, tried, and crucified. Oh, crucified.
What did they do when they returned to that upper room? Did they do as I did? Did they busy themselves with cleaning up after the meal? ... And did they weep, as they cleaned?
What is it about us women that -- after we grieve deeply -- we return home and clean up the remnants?
I realize that my reflections now may be too late. After all, Christians throughout the world are already saying, "Alleluia, He is Risen!" Easter Joy is unleashed, and I am glad it is.
But I want to back up a couple of days. Since coming home after the Maundy Thursday service, I have been tongue-tied here. The Good Friday liturgy left me still more silent.
This has been one of those years when I have been able to immerse myself in the Gospel story.
I went to my parish's celebrations of Maundy Thursday and (as my priest said) the day that our Church persists in calling "Good" Friday.
Walking through the death of Jesus, I was reminded of another death. The death of my friend, Jane Pairo.
I enlisted Jane to her job. Weary of my job, I persuaded her to come to my organization and be my boss.
A dear friend and colleague, Jane went with me to a national conference in Philadelphia. While there, she had an attack of diverticulitis. She was taken to the hospital. She had surgery. She should have been all right. I visited her in the hospital, expecting her to recover.
I came home from the conference, expecting her to come home shortly after. Instead, I got a call that she was dead. A blood-clot broke loose and killed her. She was never coming home to me, this woman I had loved and respected.
I came home this week from the Liturgy of Good Friday, expecting to think holy thoughts and do holy deeds.
Instead, I started washing dishes and house-cleaning. It was a few hours later that I realized: that's exactly what I did after I heard that Jane had died: I launched into a frenzy of housecleaning.
I wonder what Mary Magdalene and Mary of Bethany and Mary Virgin did after they saw Jesus die upon the cross. They had had a long day. They had seen Jesus ride into town. They had participated in the feast. Then they had had seen him be arrested, tried, and crucified. Oh, crucified.
What did they do when they returned to that upper room? Did they do as I did? Did they busy themselves with cleaning up after the meal? ... And did they weep, as they cleaned?
What is it about us women that -- after we grieve deeply -- we return home and clean up the remnants?
posted by Lisa Fox at 4/08/2012 10:07:00 PM
4 Comments:
{{{Lisa}}}
May Jane rest in peace, and rise in glory w/ the Risen Christ. Alleluia!
Deep thanks to you, JCF. Over a decade past, and I'm still processing her death. Ugh.
A most interesting thought, about the clean-up after the Last Supper (never thought about that before, but someone must have had to do it) and how you relate your grief to your cleaning. Very nice reflection.
My sympathies on the loss of your friend. In the midst of life, we are in death - always.
Thank you, Russ. Yes, surely somebody had to clean up after Thursday's supper. I imagine it was those women. I imagine it was after they went with Jesus through his crucifixion and death.
That would be women's work, right?
Thanks for your compassion about my friend's death. Every Holy Week seems to be -- for me -- a reflection not only on Jesus' death, but on those of my friends.
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