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VOW
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Voices
of Orthodox
Women
An Easter Narrative by Sylvia Dooling My name is "Mary." Odd, there are times when I have to remind myself of who I am. Age can play practical jokes on one's mind and body. These days I have to sit close to the fire to keep warm, for my body's natural heat has disappeared with the passage of time. But, thank God, most of the time, my mind is still clear. I wish I could say as much for my eyes. However, these eyes have been allowed to see wondrous things. How blessed I've been to be allowed to see, hear, and experience, first hand, God's miraculous plan of the ages. I have to admit, the day Jesus died on the cross the flame of hope inside me was almost extinguished. I felt lost, utterly cast down. And I wasn't the only one. The day after we watched him die, his followers and I remained in the upper room, hoping we might be able to feel his presence by being together where we had shared his last meal. But he was dead. His body lay stiff and cold in Joseph's tomb. How quickly our despair was turned first to shocked amazement, and then to pure joy when we heard the astounding news that Jesus was alive! At first, we thought it had to be wishful thinking, or an apparition. After all, the young women who had hurried to the tomb to prepare his body for burial were physically and emotionally spent from their hours of mourning. But, one by one, others witnessed his resurrection also, and we knew it had to be true. It was then that I remembered he had told us he must die but he would rise again the third day. Why hadn't I thought of that the day he died! I guess, seeing his lifeless body swept all other thoughts from my mind. Many never have believed that Jesus is alive! Rumors spread quickly that his disciples had stolen the body and hidden it. I wonder why people would rather believe it was a hoax than to experience the joy of his resurrection? Unfortunately, our times with him were limited after that glorious Easter morning. We shared a meal several times. He would suddenly appear in the midst of us, would sit with us, and try to, once again, prepare us for his final departure, and then he would vanish. It was difficult for us to know what to say or how to act. It slowly began to sink into our somewhat paralyzed minds that Jesus was far more than we would ever be able to comprehend. It was a particularly difficult time for me. This was my son--the one I had carried in my arms, sat up with at night when a nightmare would shake him out of peaceful slumber. This man, after all, was God in the flesh! I can say I believed it all along. At the same time, I stumbled in the dark just like everyone else. I do know that even though he's been gone from me, physically, for many years, I still think of him as my little boy. I carefully bring out old memories, rehearse them for periods of time, and then tuck them away. You must understand, for an old woman, the past, oftentimes, is far more vivid than the present. But don't get me wrong. I also worship him as Lord. Besides, I think he understands the difficulties I have--though others may think I'm irreverent. I knew, from the beginning, that he was mine for only a short while. Too soon, it seemed, he gave himself to the multitudes, and finally, he became the Savior of the world for all peoples at all times. I did have to share him, and yet, in sharing him I gained more of him. The love that permeated him dwells with me now. I've never been alone since the day John took me into his home. And I converse with Jesus all through the day. He hears me! I know it! He also answers. Oh, not in words I can hear, but he's brought thoughts to my mind, words he said when I was with him that I should have forgotten long ago. It was after his ascension that I sensed his presence in and around me like I never had before. Countless others say they share those feelings. It all happened at Pentecost – I was given assurance in my heart that evil had been destroyed – that Jesus reigns as King now! How shortsighted I’d been, thinking it would be an earthly kingdom. It’s greater than my limited, worn-out mind can grasp. But I know I will spend eternity with him. That all of us will, who trust him and believe he is the Christ. I look forward to the day when I can see him again – face to face You see, he promised us he would return. He didn't say when, and I have
to admit I expected it would be sooner. But I realize my time is drawing
to a close, so I won't be seeing him with these worn-out eyes. Still I
will see him, for someday I will have a new body – just like his body that
was resurrected. Shortly, my friends and family will mourn my passing.
Yet, in a way, I look forward to it, for it will hasten the time when
In the meantime, I am surrounded by a community of people who call him Lord as I do. I have watched his kingdom spread all over this world. His disciples have faithfully told the story and miraculously, peoples’ lives are being changed. They are meeting together to worship, and not only are they worshiping together; but they are eating together and sharing their meager possessions. They deeply care for one another. I've seen Jesus' teachings put into practice. Where once I thought the world was lost because of evil, now I am convinced that it has been reborn through Jesus' death and resurrection. Oh, I know, it has a long way to go, but there's an air of expectancy now as never before. There's hope! As for me, I have been blessed, as no one else, to have my body used as a dwelling place for the Son of God. Inside, I still feel like a young girl, I can still hear the angel's message, see the star which shone over Bethlehem announcing his birth, smell the stable that was our shelter, feel his warm body close to mine as I nursed him. And to think, at this moment, he reigns in heaven--my son, the Messiah! The words which poured out of me the day I visited Elizabeth still ring in my ears today--more meaningful to me now, than when I said them – “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has regarded the low estate of his handmaiden. For behold, henceforth all generations will call me blessed, for he who is mighty has done great things for me, and holy is his name. And his mercy is on those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm, he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts, he has put down the mighty from their thrones, and exalted those of low degree; he has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent empty away. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, as he spoke to our fathers, to Abraham and to his posterity for ever." Written in 1982
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