They
wouldn’t let us be close to you. They kept us at a distance. All we could do
was wail and lament. Still, even in the distance, even though it was difficult
to see, the other Mary, the mother of James and Joseph, Salome, the mother of
the sons of Zebedee, and I all knew the exact moment it happened. As soon as
the earth began to rumble and the rocks split apart, we knew. You had breathed
your last breath. It was done. We heard later that the veil covering the holy
of holies had ripped in two. That is the way I also felt. Ripped in two.
I
remember just a few days ago, looking into your eyes after I anointed your feet
with the nard and wiped it with my hair. I could see that you knew that I
understood … that you knew I knew you were going to die.
I
also remember that you said that you would return in three days.
But
right now? It doesn’t matter. Just as we watched from afar as you breathed your
last breath, now we watch just as helplessly as Joseph of Arimathea carries
your body wrapped in clean linens, lays you in his tomb and rolls the rock into
place.
All
I can do now is to watch with you … watch for you.
Offered by The
Rev. Deacon Barbi Click at St Paul’s StL Wednesday in Holy Week,
April 13, 2022
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