During this day and on this night, His light is still with us. At any time, the moon is a wonderful symbol of Mother Mary, who always shares His Light. But on this night, it reminds me of how filled Jesus is with the Light of his Father, and their Spirit, and how utterly He shares it all with us. We, the water, can be filled with it also, if we allow and participate.

We celebrate at this part of the Moon's cycle because of Passover, which Jesus was in Jerusalem to celebrate. There is a sober reflection on the full moon here as well, though. It was a convenient aid for those who wanted to arrest Jesus at night, out of the sight of the crowds who were growing to love him. This gives me pause to reflect on my own agendas, and how forthright and sincere they are. Do I have parts of me that prefer the shade or the weediness of my own complexities? Am I aware of them, and what roles do they play in my own whole?

His light, His love, and His communion with the Father's will remain ever steady, while it is the unpredictable passions of our wounded nature that swirl, change, loom, threaten, lash out, and extinguish terrestrial life.

There is a remarkable paradox within my Lord's Passion. While surrendering ever more into the chaos and violence that is us, He remains in control. As I get more familiar with the many events that follow his arrest, through the night, and this day, I see the gentle hand of Jesus on the steering wheel guiding them. He periodically uses silence to infuriate some, and He says just the right things at just the right times to get all of the reactions that He does get. And He has this remarkable capacity to speak to whom He is speaking to, while simultaneously saying something very important to me, and to all of us, today. He has been sent to do this, He is willing, and He makes sure it all happens. I believe He wants me to notice this, and I am awed.

The dim is a kind of quiet. It helps us to see the dark, and notice some of the many levels of going from light to dark. The clock in this painting is a "silent" variety, but of course, it makes a very quiet little sound as its mechanisms turn. That quiet only helps to come close to and ponder actual silence.

Jesus really did experience the actual silence, the actual darkness, and loneliness of death. This day gives me the chance to meditate on that, to meditate on the courage and the love that would be needed to take any of the steps toward that end. We believe Jesus became busy beyond the utter still and the utter dark, beyond our sight and senses. It has something to do with our Crazy Good Shepherd going "all the way" into our very deepest and darkest fears, so that there is nowhere beyond His reach, and nowhere beyond His capabilities to retrieve, to restore, and to invite home.

Quite a change, isn't it? It's okay to take a moment to adjust to the brightness. That light we knew on Thursday is lighter, and that radiance is now brighter. I enjoy all of the symbolism here, going from the sun to the Son, from risen to Risen, and from the light to the Light.

I especially enjoy how well the Disciples show us all throughout the Gospels that it is okay to be "us." We are just as capable of stumbling around in the light, as we are of stumbling around in the dark. The Lord is so patient with us, and kind, and He understands exactly how it is that we learn and grow, always a step at a time. It is reassuring how familiar the experience is, of not knowing how something works, while knowing that it does work. I can bring that here into the presence of this miraculous day. It doesn't matter as much how far I can go into explaining it. What matters is me doing my best to try to live like it, which can be fairly well described as "the adventure of a lifetime." God doesn't steal from life, God gives life to life. I especially love how, when God says something, He never "unsays" it. The gift of this day has been given. It has been given to All, and it has been given for always.

Happy Easter Friends!!!