During this Easter octave, I’ve been struggling to wrap my mind around some of the mystery that we’ve entered into: that of the resurrection.  I know that this isn’t possible, but, still, the brain tries to make sense of it. 
 
I guess I’m not alone in this.  Those first disciples struggled, too, when faced with the mystery of our risen Lord’s presence. 
 
His questions to them, “Why are you troubled?  And why do questions arise in your hearts?” (Luke 24) could well be asked of me and of you. 
 
So often, we fail to grasp what Christ’s risen life means in our own lives.  We become troubled.  We fail to recognize Him in the many little details of our lives. 
 
On that first Easter Sunday, as reflected in today’s gospel, Jesus helped his followers recognize Him by a couple of different means…
 
He broke bread.  Although I am unaware of any evidence that the two who travelled with Jesus to Emmaus were present at the Last Supper, somehow His gesture of breaking bread “opened their eyes.”  Perhaps, they had been there at the feeding of the multitude, who knows! 
 
A second gesture that was meant to give light for those bewildered followers of His was the showing of His hands and feet.  Jesus had to point out to them that He was not a ghost.  He further illuminated this point by eating a piece of baked fish.  (That happens to be on the menu here tomorrow, but I will have to pass on that opportunity for imitation as I cannot stomach it!)
 
Today, each of us might take a moment to ponder how Jesus is showing Himself to us in our lives, asking Him for light and responding in gratitude. 
 
We will not see His wounds or watch Him break the bread, but, surely, He is with us always, until the end of the age, as He promised.

Last evening, as I neared the end of my shift, I got up from the front desk, feeling tired and restless.  I decided to meander down to the activity room, to see what was happening and if anyone was still there. 

Two residents were, in fact, still there, watching TV.  One appeared to be writing out Easter cards. 

She spoke to me, “I think the only thing I have left to do (for Holy Week liturgies) is the clapper, right?”

“Yes,” I responded.  “Do you want me to show you how it works?” 

Without needing much encouragement, I headed down the hallway to where our famous brown suitcase was sitting on a chair in the small dining room.

As I knew it would be, there was the clapper. 

I brought it back to the activity room, and demonstrated its proper use to the watching resident.  She tried it with her small, elderly hands, a bit less successfully at first.  We discussed when it would be used.  Since the bells are silent from after the Gloria of Holy Thursday until the Easter vigil, the clapper is used in their place during the Eucharistic prayer at the Mass of the Lord’s Supper. 

I asked her if she’d like to borrow the clapper, and bring it back to her apartment to practice. 
She declined, stating that she didn’t think her neighbors would appreciate it. 

Nonetheless, I think she’s got a good enough handle on how it works, and all should go fine Thursday evening.

Prayers for a blessed Triduum!

As we began this Lenten journey, I found myself struggling with what to do for Lent, being quite overwhelmed with the unstable staffing situation at work.  I found myself trying to do some little penances each day, but not committing to anything big. 
 
As we neared the fifth Sunday of Lent, I was planning to put the purple cover over our large crucifix in chapel.  I had never done this before, as our maintenance men always took care of it.  This year, however, I was going to give it a try and see if I couldn’t handle it myself.  It would be an interesting challenge, I thought.
 
However, Thursday morning, things really changed!  My best laid plans were put to rest...
 
I have chronic sinus problems, so Wednesday night, before bed, I took a new medication which is supposed to help with congestion.  I woke up with a sore throat, presumably from my sinuses draining into the back of my throat all night. 
 
Things only got worse, and by Saturday morning, I was miserable.  It hurt terribly to swallow.  I found it hard to get any fluids down, which only escalated my condition. 
 
As unpleasant as this situation has been, it has also been an eye opener for me, spiritually.  It has been a poignant invitation for me to unite my sufferings (which seemed terrible to me) with those of Jesus.  My pain forced me to realize, a bit more, what His pain and suffering must have been. 
 
I certainly didn’t pick this “Lenten penance,” but it has been a good one.  Your prayers that its duration may be shortened would be appreciated.