|Thursday After Easter
Psalm 8:2, 5, 6-7, 8-9
The Power of the Word
How did this happen? Visited by the dead one, our beloved friend. You who died once again enter the room, share our meal, speak to us. How to grasp this? We are amazed into silence. Everything matters: the sound of his voice, the food he swallows, his touch. We hang on each moment, fearful of its passing. Do not leave. Stay. Tell us once more about the prophets. Our minds sink under the words: it has come to pass. We donít see yet but something takes shape within us. Words take root. The word grows. Little by little whatís to be done comes into view. The word already forms us as he slips from our grasp.
Could it be true? This is the season of the impossible. Jesus returns to his friends in the flesh. He lives in the healing power of faith. How can this be? A scientific-minded world is speechless and puts Easter into baskets with colored eggs. Nothing more. The skeptic chortles. The power of resurrection slackens as we hasten to fit in with our surroundings. Jesus lives. What could it mean?
What is truth? Some say it must jump out at you or it is lost. Immediacy anchors truth. Others insist on verification and methods. Truth takes time, but in the end itís public and visible to all. Faith retreats from proof and publicity. Where is the truth of the resurrection? We crouch in a corner like the apostles, afraid. Please donít ask. We have no words.
They listened and did not understand. Still the word grew within
them. They went forth and healed in his name. A power exceeding
their own came forth from their lives. Like a song arising from the
deep that eases our troubles. Like bold graffiti promising change:
all power to the imagination. Like a cry that is heard. You
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