My Dear Professor and I just returned from a few days at our favorite place in this world next to Texas -- a nearby Catholic retreat center. It is a place of beauty, quiet, prayer, and calm set in the midst of a sixty plus acre wood. Truly a thin place, where the division between this world and the next is almost transparent.I discovered that on our first retreat here 8 years ago. My dear husband had planned it, and he was divinely guided in the timing. I was an emotional wreck, physically and spiritually exhausted, and reeling from an unexpected betrayal. I could feel myself slipping into the bottomless black hole of depression on our drive down. The betrayal had shaken me to the core, and everything was up for grabs -- who God was, how He interacted with me and I with Him. All was on the table. We had never retreated before, so we weren't sure what to expect. I went to bed, managing to trust that God would wake me up if He had a better idea. Somehow, in the midst of the shambles of my life and emotions, I had enough trust to think God was still good.
This particular center celebrates the Liturgy of the Hours, a Catholic tradition of setting aside seven times within a day's span to recite parts of the Psalms, read a passage from the Old or New Testament, and read short prayers according to the calendar of the church year. (This all takes place within a matter of 15 minutes.) It was the bell signaling call to prayer that awakened me, and the times of prayer that gave me structure when I had none. Mysteriously, the particular Psalm readings for those first days spoke directly to my wounded heart and, combined with the beauty and serenity of the building, began my healing. I shed many a tear on my dear husband's shoulder and cried out many a question to my heavenly Father before those three days were ended. The healing was not complete when we left, but I had the strength to take baby steps, and with the love of my husband and my Savior began a road to recovery.
In the intervening years, we have attempted to come back at least twice a year, and each time if only for a brief moment, the veil seems to part. This time I found a deeper meaning in the events we celebrate at Easter time. I was studying in the library loft and overheard a priest leading a catechism class. Afterward, I asked for his text. It was an anonymous sermon from the early church on supposed events surrounding the resurrection of Christ, and for me, an evangelical protestant, serves as a wonderful meditation on the depth of what Christ accomplished on the cross.
"A MEDITATION FOR HOLY SATURDAY
Something strange is happening - there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep. The earth trembled and is still because God has fallen asleep in the flesh and He has raised up all who have slept ever since the world began. God has died in the flesh and hell trembles with fear.
He has gone to search for our first parent, as for a lost sheep. Greatly desiring to visit those who live in darkness and in the shadow of death, He has gone to free from sorrow the captives Adam and Eve, He who is both God and the son of Eve. The Lord approached them bearing the cross, the weapon that had won Him the victory. At the sight of Him, Adam, the first man He had created, struck his breast in terror and cried out to everyone: 'My Lord be with you all'. Christ answered him: 'And with your spirit'. He took him by the hand and raised him up, saying: 'Awake, O sleeper, and rise from the dead, and Christ will give you light'.
'I am your God, who for your sake have become your son. Out of love for you and for your descendants I now by My own authority command all who are held in bondage to come forth, all who are in darkness to be enlightened, all who are sleeping to arise. I order you, O sleeper, to awake. I did not create you to be held a prisoner in hell. Rise from the dead, for I am the life of the dead. Rise up, work of my hands, you who were created in My image. 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. For your sake I, your God, became your son; I, the Lord, took the form of a slave; I, whose home is above the heavens, descended to the earth and beneath the earth. For your sake, for the sake of man, I became like a man without help, free among the dead. For the sake of you, who left a garden, I was betrayed to the Jews in a garden, and I was crucified in a garden.
'See on My face the spittle I received in order to restore to you the life I once breathed into you. See there the marks of the blows I received in order to refashion your warped nature in My image. On My back see the marks of the scourging I endured to remove the burden of sin that weighs upon your back. See My hands, nailed firmly to a tree, for you who once wickedly stretched out your hand to a tree.
'I slept on the cross and a sword pierced My side for you who slept in paradise and brought forth Eve from your side. My side has healed the pain in yours. My sleep will rouse you from your sleep in hell. The sword that pierced Me has sheathed the sword that was turned against you.
'Rise, let us leave this place. The enemy led you out of the earthly paradise. I will not restore you to that paradise, but I will enthrone you in heaven. I forbade you the tree that was only a symbol of life, but see, I who am life itself am now one with you."
