“And so, because it was the day of Preparation and the tomb was nearby, they laid Jesus there.”
Joseph, Nicodemus and the disciples laid to rest the familiar body of their teacher, Jesus, among the saplings of the garden. Now in their grief and tenderness, the familiar festival cycle of Passover was no longer within the normalcy of their time. His body, Jesus’ sacred head, worn out by the asphyxiations of such a shameful death bore the measure of their, truly the world’s, boundless expectations; for the future, for family; plans for a new page in the story of this world’s life. But instead that body was weighed down by the seemingly endless cycle of disorienting suffering from betrayal to arrest to crucifixion; time itself ruptured by passage of his passion. Even now our bodies feel the weight of this endless day as the world itself suffers the disorienting passion of this pandemic. Nothing feels right at this moment, not even our participation in Triduum. News of changing pandemic realities, uncertain diagnoses, death, growing fatigue over being on technology, and the reality of racial inequalities in this country continually rupture the sense that our lives shall Keep Calm and Carry on into a most uncertain Future. We all are Mary, Nicodemus and the disciples moving between cross and grave, between grief and disorienting day. As of now, it seems, in this endless day, our expectations have been laid to rest. Our common life ruptured. Our resignation complete. Yet as a seed, enveloped by earthen tombs germinates and springs forth into a radically new life, so too is the faint movement of new life in Christ pushing through this endless day.