WHERE DO I STAND?

The most meaningful Good Friday veneration of the Cross I have experienced, took place in the context of a Holy Week retreat for young adults, at Loyola Hall Jesuit retreat centre, near Liverpool. The other parts of the liturgy had taken place at various venues inside the building and out in the grounds. Retreatants, team and community processed into the chapel to find the cross before the altar, and an empty space where the benches had been. Strategically placed small group were singing simple chants representing the position various characters would have taken up as Jesus hung on the Cross: Peter, who had denied coming as close as he dared; the faithful women who stood close; the Mary’s and John who were in contact; Judas, who had betrayed, fearing to seek forgiveness; anonymous people who wanted to be there but watched from afar……

As the participants entered, they listened to each chant and then joined whichever group to which they felt drawn. There followed a time when we could all reflect on the where we had chosen to stand and know that, wherever we were, we were accepted, loved, forgiven.

This year, I am setting of on Holy Week with a sense of confusion? paradox? I don’t quite know how to name it. I certainly don’t know where I am standing: if I am standing at all. As I finished my stint of caring for my now frail friend last week, I realised I had reached a full stop. The past weeks have been tough, very tough. So much has changed, so quickly. We who care for Lil now approach our visits with great apprehension. We never know what awaits us. The future is uncertain. Is she still safe living alone? I am fortunate that I don’t have to make that decision, but it is heartbreaking to watch and listen as this once strong, bright woman, who has influenced so many lives, recognises her helplessness and lack of control over what happens to her. Until last week, despite the fact that I was in pain from a fractured vertebra following a fall, I had not managed badly. However, we all have our limits and I had come to a point where I had to have a break.

So, here I am. It’s the start of Holy Week. I read about forgetting oneself and reaching out to others, but I am trying to rest. I watch Mary anointing Jesus’s feet and tell him I want someone to anoint mine. And I know he is all right with that. He, the man for others par excellence, had to allow others to minister to him. There are times when all we have to offer is our weakness and he is glad to receive it. This may not be the Holy Week I would choose but maybe it has been chosen for me. There are so many ways God is speaking through my situation. All that he asks is that I listen and know that wherever I stand, I am loved.