Standing through the cloister window that looks south out over the Coliseum this morning, I watch a long line of dark clouds move over the city. The most prominent angels of the Angelicum--the squawky sea-gulls--squabble over nesting rights and a few church bells ring out to wake those still asleep.
Clouds over Rome on the Resurrection of the Lord. How fitting. Bickering birds instead of angel's choirs. Perfect. For a few, quick moments I felt a cold, weighty melancholy squeeze my Easter joy. Would today be a day to get through, a day to merely endure with fingers crossed?
The WeatherBug reports that it will rain. Great.
At Mass this morning, I sit in my accustomed place. Near the altar and across from a huge Renaissance-style fresco of Christ leaving the tomb. During moments of silence, I look up at the triumphant Lord and back down at his emptied grave. Some of the people in the fresco--the Mary's, soldiers, servants, angels--watch him rise. Some with joy. Some with knowing contemplation. Some with fear and hatred.
These figures, I decide, represent quite nicely the diversity of contemporary reactions to the Resurrection. Some greet Easter with joy; some with expectant silence; others with fear and loathing. For repentant sinners, the Resurrection means life everlasting. Joy comes naturally. For those who see the Gospel as an unwelcomed restraint on their passions, their choices, the Resurrection is a unmitigated disaster. Now, because Christ is risen, their choices have consequences beyond this impermanent world. That they fear this revelation is their own choice.
I hear bells ringing all over the city. The rain keeps the bickering birds under cover. In churches here in Rome and the world over, faithful Christians are gathering despite the fear the world hopes to spark in their hearts. Fear is easy. Hope is hard.
Christ is risen. The only hope for creation is risen. He is risen indeed!
Follow HancAquam ------------>
At Mass this morning, I sit in my accustomed place. Near the altar and across from a huge Renaissance-style fresco of Christ leaving the tomb. During moments of silence, I look up at the triumphant Lord and back down at his emptied grave. Some of the people in the fresco--the Mary's, soldiers, servants, angels--watch him rise. Some with joy. Some with knowing contemplation. Some with fear and hatred.
These figures, I decide, represent quite nicely the diversity of contemporary reactions to the Resurrection. Some greet Easter with joy; some with expectant silence; others with fear and loathing. For repentant sinners, the Resurrection means life everlasting. Joy comes naturally. For those who see the Gospel as an unwelcomed restraint on their passions, their choices, the Resurrection is a unmitigated disaster. Now, because Christ is risen, their choices have consequences beyond this impermanent world. That they fear this revelation is their own choice.
I hear bells ringing all over the city. The rain keeps the bickering birds under cover. In churches here in Rome and the world over, faithful Christians are gathering despite the fear the world hopes to spark in their hearts. Fear is easy. Hope is hard.
Christ is risen. The only hope for creation is risen. He is risen indeed!
Follow HancAquam ------------>