The way of imagination

  “…unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12.24)      It’s a dark day.   Jesus is dead.   The disciples are numb with shock, dazed and confused, scared for their lives.   As the tomb was sealed, the sun had descended below the horizon and darkness had shrouded the city of Jerusalem, providing a mixed blessing – it was dark enough to hide the apostles, but too dark for them to dare to dream.   Psalm 130 serves, I believe, to capture the disciples’ mood at this time: Psalm 130 Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord .     Lord, hear my voice! Let your ears be attentive     to the voice of my supplications! If you, O Lord , should mark iniquities,     Lord, who could stand? But there is forgiveness with you,     so that you may be revered. I wait for the Lord ; my soul waits, ...

       Lent 2025, day 39.   It wasn’t your typical Good Friday service.   The 15 detainees arrived in the visiting area in waves.   Finally, everyone was assembled and a motley crew began to (ostensibly) commemorate the death of Jesus of Nazareth – Muslims, Sikhs and Christians together, from all around the globe.   Indeed, during this time of prayer and recollection, each individual had a very different experience and understood something uniquely personal.   Isaiah 53 was read in French, the Psalm in English and St. John’s passion narrative in Spanish.   During the “Laments of Christ against his faithless church” [1] , we sung the refrain, “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom”.   We ended this liturgical moment by forming a circle, joining hands and offering spontaneous prayers of gratitude to Christ and supplications for each other, each pray-er addressing his God in his language.      Follow...