To everyone who conquers,
I will give permission
to eat from the tree of life
that is in the paradise of God.
I will give permission
to eat from the tree of life
that is in the paradise of God.
-- Rev. 2:7
A lifeless body in a tomb.
Alone.
Defeated.
Wrapped in burial cloths of misery, fear, and failure.
A decaying grain concealed in darkest land.
Mystery awaits the morn.
Thin light spreads over a horizon unaware of what the earth cannot contain.
The soil is soaked with divinity’s dew.
The seed of humanity sheds its rotten garments.
The wound within opens.
A tender shoot appears.
It emerges above the soil.
Pulled toward the rising sun, it is green, full of sap.
Roots crack through and discard the seed’s hard but fragile casing…
… surge through and clutch the earth…
… drink from the brimming river.
The stalk grows thicker, taller.
Stems become branches.
Buds blossom and leaves unfurl.
Within them the birds of heaven sing their song.
Hanging there is ripened fruit.
Good for food.
Pleasing to the eye.
Desirable for gaining wisdom.
Fruit better than gold.
A woman enters the land.
She seeks a burial plot, and finds the tree.
She is amazed at what has arisen there.
Taking some of the fruit, she eats.
Urged by an angel, she shares it.
Naked again, eyes are opened.
Wrapped in the light of faith, hope, love.
Triumphant.
Together.
A vibrant body in a garden.
Planted in the house of the Lord.
Still bearing fruit when they are old.
Surrounding the Tree of Life.
Singing Alleluia!
The soil is soaked with divinity’s dew.
The seed of humanity sheds its rotten garments.
The wound within opens.
A tender shoot appears.
It emerges above the soil.
Pulled toward the rising sun, it is green, full of sap.
Roots crack through and discard the seed’s hard but fragile casing…
… surge through and clutch the earth…
… drink from the brimming river.
The stalk grows thicker, taller.
Stems become branches.
Buds blossom and leaves unfurl.
Within them the birds of heaven sing their song.
Hanging there is ripened fruit.
Good for food.
Pleasing to the eye.
Desirable for gaining wisdom.
Fruit better than gold.
A woman enters the land.
She seeks a burial plot, and finds the tree.
She is amazed at what has arisen there.
Taking some of the fruit, she eats.
Urged by an angel, she shares it.
Naked again, eyes are opened.
Wrapped in the light of faith, hope, love.
Triumphant.
Together.
A vibrant body in a garden.
Planted in the house of the Lord.
Still bearing fruit when they are old.
Surrounding the Tree of Life.
Singing Alleluia!
2 comments:
"Mystery awaits the morn."
We needs this every morn. We have forgotten mystery and thus languish in boredom. As Rudolf Otto prescribed: we ache for the mysterium tremendum et fascinans. Only this mysterium is truly able to "lure" us.
Indeed.
Without mystery, what is there to hope for? Who lives for answers?
"I awake the dawn" -- Psalm 108:2
PAX
Br. Francis
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