An early Christian writer whose name is lost to us wrote these words in a homily to describe the meaning of this silent day of transition:
Rise, let us leave this place, for you are in me and I am in you; together we form only one person and we cannot be separated.
After the drama of trauma there is the long aftermath of ordinariness. It is like a powerful wave of the sea that hit the land with great force and is now being sucked back into the ocean. You even wonder if the great crash ever happened at all, so quiet and empty and mundane everything seems.
As we accept the uneventfulness and the untimed waiting, however, something emerges. It transpires through the immeasurable emptiness that is all that is left. A sense grows of union with what we will not ever again see in the same way. A mutual inwelling and presence to one another in a greater presence that contains everything. Even in the residual grief of the loss a new kind of peace also shows in an awareness that this new union is as definitive and permanent as the very loss that lies behind it.
So even when nothing is happening – as we learn in the emptiness of meditation where we experience death and resurrection daily – new life has begun to emerge. In the mind of Christ we see that there are two creations, both beautiful and terrible. The first is marked by mortality, the horizon beyond which we can see nothing. The new creation is known by those who awaken to their being one person with the one person who comes back to us over that horizon. By Fr Laurence Freeman