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The Day of Resurrection

Mother of the Faith-Holy Saturday ______________________________________

The silence of this forsaken day is like a cosmic “time out” to go to our rooms and “think about what we have done.”

What have we done?

Face to face with the tomb—ominous and sealed with oppressive finality, the tomb is a watershed. A choice must be made. Will I turn from this rock before me and resume the non-life of self-reliance and the proactive pursuit of my own will? Or, will I wait, watch, and hope that in the face of this awful nothing that there is in fact something, something more, something else.

In the formless chasm of this strange day—a day drained of life and beauty, of goodness and truth, the world was held together by the faith of one. Only one of your disciples put down roots like an anchor. One alone became an immovable mountain, an unquenchable flame, and we find shade and shelter in her branches. Her milk is our comfort, and her hope is our sustenance.

Your Mother, the Handmaid of the Lord, with a faith of steel swaddled in her heart a living hope . And her hope was not disappointed.

Risen ____________________________

Death was never part of creation; it was not the invention or the intention of the Father. At the instigation of the devil, your ancient adversary, death entered the world and we have been oppressed by the terror of this dark machination ever since.

You, Jesus, were also given up to the jaws of Leviathan—the destiny of every man—and he chewed you up.

But after three days in the belly of the beast, you burst forth, slayed your adversary, and rose victorious. Your rising was the last word on death, and thus death is defeated forever. For ever.

Jesus, you overcame the urge to protect yourself and save yourself. Instead, you offered your body, your blood, your will, your heart, your humanity and your divinity, until there was nothing left to be offered. And the gift freely given was received.

Once all is surrendered, empty hands are free to receive. The life flung against the sky, like bread cast upon the waters, is received back again.

Today our Redeemer lives, never to die again.

And therein lies all our hope.

Mother Clare



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