Silent Saturday of Holy Week, reflection (a bit deep)

Above the ground, manna grows and mustard seeds hide.  Death covers the sun and silences the shepherd’s call.

It’s Saturday.

And our King is gone.  The King of the poor.  The King of the sick.  The King of the Gentiles.  The King of the Jews.  The King of the Sinners.

The King of Us.

Did death not win?

Below the earth, beyond the magnetic field and upon the molten iron, the chamber doors of hell part.  The Son of God, our King appears.  The brightness of his soul dawns a new day and time no longer stands still.  He preaches the gospel.  His luminous light permeates the inferno and his grace illuminates only those dark souls who repent.  Upon the shadows, Adam and Eve were found and brought to His bosom.  The King went on to gathered more souls to himself while death’s rebuke was destroyed.

With full radiance, the King shines his light to the heavens and hollows out an opening.    Beams of light pour into paradise.

Above the ground, the mustard seeds listen attentively for the whispers and the soul awaits for the spirit to guide.  Fear has a stronghold over the shell.

Where is our King?

 

 

 

 

 

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