"Behold, I show you a mystery. We shall not all sleep, but we shall all be changed. In a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, at the last trump: for the trumpet shall sound, and the dead shall be raised incorruptible, and we shall be changed. For this corruptible must put on incorruption, and this mortal must put on immortality. Then shall be brought to pass the saying that is written, Death is swallowed up in victory. O death, where is thy sting? O grave, where is thy victory? But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ." ... Corinthians 15:51-53, 55, 57

We enter the Lenten season marked with the ashes of death and embark on an arduous journey of faith. With our beautiful Savior, we stagger under the cross of our private and collective sin and shame. We bear that piercing crown of thorns, woven from our own callous deeds and woeful neglect. We taste the bitter gall of the enormous pain and grief. Lingering there at His feet, we are stunned at the absurdity of it all: the brutality, the indignity, and the unspeakable loss. Yet, we dare not turn away from this scene of utter devastation, but watch with Him in His seemingly endless hour of despair. Then, as the unbearable drama draws to a close, we hear a loud, piercing cry. The book of life is slammed shut with shocking finality and the veil is slashed in two.

Death is so inevitable and seems so starkly real. Whether abrupt or lingering, it is usually a wrenching experience for those left behind in its wake. But not for Him, not for our beloved dead, and not for us when we too shall reach that silver shore. For our faith assures us that death is in fact powerless to snatch our lives away. It is only an horizon, a concept to mark the point of transition and change. But what an incredible transformation! From a mortal body, so limited and confining, to an immortal form, indestructible, free. From the darkness and density of a material world to the light-filled realm of the spirit. From a world where confusion, lies, and shadowy images so often parade as reality to fundamental Truth. From the imitation of beauty to Beauty itself. And from the ever-present barbarity of war and discrimination, to the very essence of Justice and Peace.

Then shall the voice of Time fade to a whisper, all but lost in the triumphal music of Eternity. This dear little earth shall recede like a dream, hidden within the boundaries of the cosmos, itself just a glancing trace in that unfathomable, immeasurable Universal Sea. Surely, joy shall dawn with the morning light, when the mystery of life is revealed. We shall return to the great dominion whence we came, our bodies restored, our hearts renewed, our souls redeemed. And the love of God, the most amazing wonder of all, shall prevail for evermore. Death, indeed, has lost its sting, and the grave, its victory. For this, He bore the crimson stains. For this, He sacrificed all. Thanks be to God!

Let me to Thy bosom fly,
While the nearer waters roll,
While the tempest still is high:
Hide me, O my Saviour, hide
Till the storm of life is past
Safe into that haven guide;
O receive my soul at last!
Amen.
Jesus, Lover of my soul
Charles Wesley, 1707-1788

Contributed by Diane S.n
Published Sunday March 14, 2004
Week 16 of Liturgical Year C