Holy Saturday And The Harrowing of Hell

 

Today Christ lays in the tomb and harrows Hell. A Scottish poet, George Mackay Brown, speaks:

He went down the first step.

His lantern shone like the morning star.

Down and round he went

Clothed in his five wounds.

Solomon whose coat was like daffodils

Came out of the shadows.

He kissed Wisdom there, on the second step.

The boy whose mouth had been filled with harp-songs,

The shepherd king

Gave, on the third step, his purest cry.

At the root of the Tree of Man, an urn

With dust of apple-blossom.

Joseph, harvest-dreamer, counsellor of pharaohs

Stood on the fourth step.

He blessed the lingering Bread of Life.

He who had wrestled with an angel,

The third of the chosen,

Hailed the King of Angels on the fifth step.

Abel with his flutes and fleeces

Who bore the first wound

Came to the sixth step with his pastorals.

On the seventh step down

The tall primal dust

Turned with a cry from digging and delving.

Tomorrow the Son of Man will walk in a garden.

On the seventh step down the tall primal dust turned with a cry from digging and delving. Tomorrow the Son of Man will walk in a garden. Yes indeed.

God bless,

LSP

Palm Sunday Reflection

 

The Masses went well at the Missions yesterday as we celebrated our Lord's entrance into Jerusalem and there it is, Palm Sunday, the gateway to Holy Week. The first part of the liturgy, with its blessing of palms and procession is jubilant, hosanna! Salvation rides into Jerusalem in fulfillment of prophecy to establish his sovereignty in the Holy City. 

I always feel this part of the liturgy, with its victorious joy, has the feel and tenor of Easter but the mood swiftly shifts to Good Friday as we hear the awful story of the Passion. Judas' betrayal and suicide, the weakness of Pilate, the mockery of Herod and his degenerate court, the brutality of the soldiery, the wickedness of the High Priests, and the torture and execution of Christ. Hosanna! has moved to Crucify! But note this.

Even the demons and the people they drive are forced to acknowledge Christ's kingship, in derision for sure but they do so nonetheless. Jesus is given a royal robe, imagine the sneers, a reed for a scepter, he's crowned, but with thorns, and his throne is a cross at the top of which reads a sign, Jesus of Nazareth, King of the Jews.

Even Hell in its twisted scorn calls Christ a king but the moment of Satan's seeming victory turns to utter defeat as Jesus rises triumphant from the grave, turning the Devil's mockery into the glorious regalia of kingship over death and Hell itself.

So we find ourselves back at the beginning, at Jesus' entrance into Jerusalem. If the crowds had known the unfathomable extent of his sovereignty they would have cried out all the louder, for the Savior had indeed arrived. 

He rides to us now, today, into the Jerusalem of our souls. Meet him with joy, spreading the garments and palm of our lives before him as we follow the King in humble repentance to the Cross so that in dying to sin we too, in Christ, will rise to everlasting life.

INRI,

LSP