The Still Point

A Time of Meditation and Reflection

Sunday of the Resurrection: Easter Day

 

... At the still point of the turning world. Neither flesh nor fleshless;
Neither from nor towards; at the still point, there the dance is,
But neither arrest nor movement. And do not call it fixity,
Where past and future are gathered. Neither movement from nor towards,
Neither ascent nor decline. Except for the point, the still point,
There would be no dance, and there is only the dance...

 

T.S. Eliot, Burnt Norton

            Peace on each one who comes in need; 

            Peace on each one who comes in joy. 

            Peace on each one who offers prayers; 

            Peace on each one who offers song. 

            Peace of the Maker, Peace of the Son, 

            Peace of the Spirit, the Triune One.

 

Alleluia! Christ is Risen.

The Lord is Risen indeed. Alleluia!

Opening Prayer

O God, whose Son Jesus is the good shepherd of your people: Grant that when we hear his voice we may know him who calls us each by name, and follow where he leads; who, with you and the Holy Spirit, lives and reigns, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

 

The Gospel                                                                    Mark 16:1-8

When the sabbath was over, Mary Magdalene, and Mary the mother of James, and Salome bought spices, so that they might go and anoint Jesus. And very early on the first day of the week, when the sun had risen, they went to the tomb. They had been saying to one another, “Who will roll away the stone for us from the entrance to the tomb?” When they looked up, they saw that the stone, which was very large, had already been rolled back. As they entered the tomb, they saw a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting on the right side; and they were alarmed. But he said to them, “Do not be alarmed; you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was crucified. He has been raised; he is not here. Look, there is the place they laid him. But go, tell his disciples and Peter that he is going ahead of you to Galilee; there you will see him, just as he told you.” So they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.

 

Poem: “A Lady red—amid the Hill”                           by Emily Dickinson   

A Lady red—amid the Hill

Her annual secret keeps!
A Lady white, within the Field
In placid Lily sleeps!

The tidy Breezes, with their Brooms—
Sweep vale—and hill—and tree!
Prithee, My pretty Housewives!
Who may expected be?

The Neighbors do not yet suspect!
The Woods exchange a smile!
Orchard, and Buttercup, and Bird—
In such a little while!

And yet, how still the Landscape stands!
How nonchalant the Hedge!
As if the “Resurrection”
Were nothing very strange!

                                                                                               

Meditation

I don't know about you, but sometimes I have trouble turning on the "joy" faucet when the lights come up at the Easter Vigil. Maybe I've actually been sort of enjoying the quiet, muted reflectiveness of Lent, finally feeling like I'm getting somewhere with processing the tremendous grief of the world, and all of a sudden Easter comes with riotous flowers and bunnies blazing. Sometimes it feels like too much. I'm not ready to surrender to joy. It feels easier, safer, cradling the places that need healing, there in the Lenten dark.

 

But Emily Dickinson's poem evokes a very different sort of joy, one that feels like a more realistic way of bursting from the tomb than a rampage of bunnies. In the poem I see Mary Magdalene ("a lady red"), there in the garden at the tomb, still cradling her own grief, and the breathless hushed joy of surprise encounter. Jesus' first meeting as the Resurrected Christ with another human being, with Mary, is captivating. It is an image of the Point Vierge Thomas Merton writes about, the still point just before daybreak when all of creation asks its creator to exist once again. And there, as the birds are just beginning to murmur, we encounter God; again God walks through the garden in twilight as breezes shimmer through trees, but this is not the evening walk of Eden that began the long story of our human illusion of separateness. This is the morning walk that affirms our utter intimacy with a God who is nearer to us than our next breath. In this Easter evening, now that the cacophony of bells and choirs and trumpets has subsided, listen for the quiet footsteps of the surprise encounter, listen for the joy that you may not quite recognize, until it whispers your name, and you know without a doubt that you are loved.

Questions for Reflection

- Consider the word "joy". We are told by Paul that it is a Fruit of the Spirit. Where do you see this fruit emerging in your life? What helps joy grow for you?

- What have you been carrying that has made you feel heavy-laden? Imagine bringing these things to the entrance of the ancient tomb-cave. Imagine setting them down, knowing that they now will be carried for you. What changes for you as you hold those images?

- Explore the many faces that joy has to show to you. Maybe joy isn't in the bells and trumpets. Maybe those things stir and strengthen you. Size joy up: what color is it? What does it sound like right now? How does it move? Is it huge and crashing like ocean waves? Is it a mysterious whisper? Take this time of Eastertide to become better acquainted with joy, beyond your first impressions or old definitions of it. Ask yourself where it's showing its face each day, and which face it's showing.

Prayers

We bring before God someone whom we have met or remembered today 

We bring to God someone who is hurting tonight and needs our prayer

We bring to God a troubled situation in our world 

We bring to God, silently, someone whom we find hard to forgive or trust

We bring ourselves to God that we might grow in generosity of spirit, clarity of mind, and warmth of affection

We offer our thanks to God for the blessings in our lives

We name before God those who have died.

 

Gracious God, you hear all our prayers: those we speak aloud, those we hold in our hearts, and those prayers for which we have no words. Hear the prayers of your people, and grant them as may be best for us, for the sake of your holy name. Amen.          

Accept our thanks for all you have done, O God. Our hands were empty, and you filled them.

 May Christ’s holy, healing, enabling Spirit be with us every step of the way, and be our guide as our road changes and turns, and the blessing of God our Creator, Redeemer and Giver of life be among us now and remain with us forever. Amen.

 Reflections this month offered by: Katie Schmidt  

Cover Image: Detail:  Mary and Jesus in the garden from the Saint John's Bible.