How like him to appear this way: a walk alongside the mourners, an attentive ear, a willingness to linger, and then – the climax – seated at table, bread, the beloved symbol, poised in hand, and at its breaking all finally clear. How like him who broke bread with Zaccheus, with Levi, with Judas. HowContinue reading ““…and how he was known to them in the breaking of the bread” (Emmaus 3)”
Tag Archives: Jesus
Chiaroscuro
To Cleopas and his friend, the revelation and its impact no doubt stuck. Their paradigm, irremediably shifted, could hardly go back. Such things as resurrections we don’t forget in any hurry. Yet for those serving at table, I wonder: did the light dawn so quickly, so decisively? More or less a normal night’s work, andContinue reading “Chiaroscuro”
Recognised, Became Invisible: For Jean-Luc Marion
Was it the breaking of bread that did it, That act just so like the Bread of Life? Or was it how the Word opened up the word And our hearts were like flames within us? Our eyes Beheld but did not understand, intuit What lay behind all those parables, rife With intimations of truth,Continue reading “Recognised, Became Invisible: For Jean-Luc Marion”
Easter Sunday
Unintentionally, I keep vigil the night before while my son, restless for the dawn, unsettled by the changing of the clocks, bids me stay awake and pray. Some sleep gained before sunrise, yet when the lights comes it feels somehow the natural outworking of the night, for I’ve walked through all its stations, met itsContinue reading “Easter Sunday”
Holy Saturday
I know this day well, have often lived here, yet rarely for good reason, only the wounded pride of disappointment, the failure of God to sate expectations. Licking my wounds, embalming my life goals, I sit beneath a Jonah tree and await the explosion. Nothing comes, only Sabbath: the time for waiting, for preparing spiceContinue reading “Holy Saturday”
Good Friday
Lent ends with a mirror: I am the mocker, the spitter, the thief. Like a child resenting their small role in the pageant, I greet grace with a petulant, What about me? This is me. My role is the soldier with the reed and the crown, the voice crying, Crucify! and, Messiah, come down. I’mContinue reading “Good Friday”
Maundy Thursday
Like Peter, I am thrown. The new commandment is old – older than water – but never does it feel old when it knocks where the heart’s most calloused, with desert-worn feet, soles encased in grime and travail. Water washes, but the command penetrates. And the action – the knees bent, the teacher’s degradation –Continue reading “Maundy Thursday”
Palm Sunday
I have been there in the festal throng, the waving of palms, the shouting of Psalms: Hosanna – the highest – hosanna. And I have felt the surge of pride to see my king, as prophesied, come in, triumphantly, astride his Zechariah-steed, and I confess that I have hoped to find what, in the end,Continue reading “Palm Sunday”
The Consolations of Lent
Comfort sits, unexpected, in our waiting with weakness. No giant leaps needed, only the baby steps of the heart slowly learning contrition. Begin with incapacity, then the slow-dawning knowledge that you are nothing but dust. Dust transfigures at His breath. Exhale in the sigh of your Lenten frailty. Then inhale, inspire. O brother in ourContinue reading “The Consolations of Lent”
“The chariots and horsemen of Israel” (For the end of Epiphany)
The heart seeks Tabernacle: on mountain-top, by river-bank, it longs to settle, to hold the Presence safe, within arm’s reach, just the length of an Elijah’s-staff away. Yet the false Tabernacles we weave as curtains against truth turn Transfiguration to self-help session and seek double portions to allay the moment’s loss. Day turns to night.Continue reading ““The chariots and horsemen of Israel” (For the end of Epiphany)”
The Consolations of Writing 