There are some things you can’t speak about, and you certainly can’t share them on social media. The Thing that thuds along like a dead thing underneath. The sun is shining and the garden is full of fruit and your work is blossoming and everyone is starting to see each other again after the COVID-ridden months; but every now and then you lose the energy which enables to you stay in the present and fall back into the numbness of the Thing.
Most of the time, you don’t even know what it is that is making you tearful, and tired and unmotivated. You can’t even speak of it to yourself. The unspeakable death, the outrageous death, which takes you back into other unspeakable and outrageous deaths, and which echoes around a world which has been full of outrageous deaths since Cain and Abel.
Reading John 11 and 12 today. Jesus’ outraged weeping over the tomb of Lazarus – how much more outraged would He be at this death – at the violence, the disposal of the body, the injustice of the system . . . no quiet tomb out of which to call the beloved to resurrection.
And Jesus’ prediction of His own death.