Saturday, April 23, 2011

Painting a Picture

Holy Saturday dawns.  The apostles awake in the deepest mourning, hoping as they begin to open their eyes that yesterday's events were all just a bad dream.  Maybe Jesus is still among them.  Maybe the cruel torments and the horrendous Crucifixion never really took place.  Yes, that's it!  Jesus is not dead; any moment now, He will walk into their presence and preach some mystical and symbolic reason for why they dreamt such a horrible dream concerning His death.  But thankfully, it was only a dream!  Wasn't it?  They open their bloodshot, tear-stained eyes only to have the full reality slam down upon them.  Jesus is not here.  Jesus was crucified....and is no longer among them.

Their grief escalates to the highest degree, as they bury their heads among each other, weeping for their loss.  Glancing about the room, where only days before they had celebrated so gloriously the new Passover, they feel alone...the room is empty without their Master to comfort them.  They tremble with fear.  Will the Romans now come searching for them??  Will they also be put to death for following the Lord Jesus?  The atmosphere about the room is one of trepidation and anxiety; all unsure what to do next.

Yet in the same building, in an adjacent room, sits one who keeps a vigil of sorrow, yet not without a confident expectancy.  She bows her head in prayer, and upon her knees she offers all her sufferings to her Son, asking Him to comfort the hearts of His beloved apostles.  The Most Holy Virgin waits.  She gazes upon that bare altar where the Most Holy Species of Her Son's Body and Blood had rested, and she waits and prays.

She remembers the promise her Son made to them concerning His Passion and death...the promise that His apostles have forgotten in their grief.  "...and on the third day, the Son of Man will rise again."  On the third day....

For now, they have only to wait and pray.  Wait, and pray.

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