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coronavirus, Holy Week, Palm Sunday, rejoice, ritual, The Sophia Center for Spirituality, This is the day the Lord has made.
“This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us be glad and rejoice in it.”
This line is for me like the “ticker tape” message on the New York Times Building in Times Square, NYC, this morning. It keeps running through my consciousness, calling me to attention. What’s the message?
It is Sunday. It is a Sunday of high ritual; we call it Palm Sunday. (Lots of people are sitting at home weaving crosses of palm fronds right now.) This Palm Sunday will be a challenge for religious people everywhere who are devoted to the rituals that we Christians call “Holy Week” because we have been told to stay home from Church to protect ourselves and one another from the pandemic (COVID-19) that is now ravaging the entire world.
Obedience is more difficult when you cannot see with your eyes the reason for the directive, i.e. in this case: “STAY HOME.” Spring is here. We have a proliferation of daffodils in our yard. The weeping willow trees have that light yellow-green haze that precedes the leafing out of other trees. Today promises to be warm enough for a light coat, and by next Sunday what we used to call “Easter finery.” We can’t see the reason for letting go of everything that we are told is necessary to our well-being, but we know now that it is a matter of life or death.
Reflection on this situation that we cannot see or touch but only know by its effects is perhaps a way to move from outside to inside, from action to intention, and then from head to heart. Take the case of the practicing Catholic who waits for this week to prepare each year for the rituals that end in the glorious feast of Easter. The moments of distress and horror as s/he walks with Jesus through trial, suffering (physical and mental) and ultimately death will be swallowed up in the glory of resurrection. How is all that possible this year?
Can we be satisfied — if we are lucky enough to have live-streamed services — to watch it all on television? If that is not available, can we read the relevant chapters in the Scriptures and put ourselves energetically into the scenes of the week? Can we move through the days in a silence of the heart, a spiritual communion, connecting ourselves to all of our brothers and sisters who are suffering across the world.
This is the day — as is every day — that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice that we are called to deeper understanding of the God who calls us. And may we rejoice in that knowledge that we belong to this God and to one another in a deeper way than ever before — a deeper way of the heart.
Today I anticipate joy in abundance. If you read yesterday’s post you’re probably thinking I’m referencing the acclamation: This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us be glad and rejoice in it! I must admit I was relieved that I remembered to say it to myself when I got out of bed this morning. If nothing else, I ought to practice what I preach! But I digress!
It has not escaped my notice that each day since the vigil of Easter the gospel acclamation has been the same verse. From Psalm 118:24 we hear or read, This is the day the Lord has made; let us be glad and rejoice in it. This morning I think I finally got the intended message.
There seem to be lots of reasons to get moving this morning and greet the day with anticipation. The reasons don’t come from the outside; the day (as much as I can determine it from the vantage point of my bedroom window) is looking rather dismal. But the lectionary readings declare the truth that the earth is full of the goodness of the Lord and the verse before the gospel shouts out the recognition that this is the day that the Lord has made! Rather like “Wake up!” or “Don’t miss it!” that declarative is followed with the imperative: Let us be glad and rejoice in it!
The waiting is over. Prepared or not we acknowledge that Christ comes today to each of us and all of us, calling our hearts to a love that is as divine as it is human, drawing us forth in the humility of one born like us while at the same time offering us riches beyond our comprehension, if only we agree to pour ourselves out in generosity of spirit. The paradox is that this gift to the Christ can be given in the smallest of ways: each day a smile or a kind word to someone starving for affection, ten minutes of silence to heal a noisy world or…name your own offering of light. Every gift is acceptable to the Christ. Now it is He who is waiting for us. Let us rejoice and give thanks!
Today begins the final countdown to our celebration of the Incarnation of Jesus at Christmas. It is, I think, as significant as it is unusual that today is both Gaudete Sunday – the call to Rejoice! – as well as the day when we begin to hear the O Antiphons, those short chants sung as refrains, at vespers, the evening prayer of the Church.
Sometimes opportunity is so fleeting that we easily miss it if we aren’t paying attention. Take, for example, the coming of light to the sky. That’s something that happens every morning so it’s often taken for granted. Today, because of the shift to Daylight Saving Time, I was happy to see that it was in process as I started the trek downstairs for my coffee. Had I not been paying attention when I sat to write on my return I would have missed a breathtaking red sky whose glory dissipated within two minutes. I was almost too busy reading Paul’s staccato-like advice to the Romans in chapter 12 to look out the window. Both “feasts for the eyes” were worthy of a pause.
Here in Windsor we are in the midst of a four-day Wisdom School whose theme is Visionary Seeing. I just read Nan Merrill’s translation of Psalm 105 and found it quite appropriate for this middle day, giving us impetus to wake up to new and deeper ways of knowing. I thought it worthy of consideration for a broader audience as well so here is a lovely modern rendition of PS 105:1-6 in paragraph form. It is especially the last line that seems to me consonant with visionary seeing.