I feel like I am always out of sync with the liturgical calendar. Next week starts Advent which leads into Christmas, but I keep thinking about Easter Week. The stories and images of Christmas, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday all seem to overlap and juxtapose for me.
As I searched for an image to put in the sidebar to represent Advent, the coming of Emmanuel, God with us, my favorite song at Easter came to mind. It is the old spiritual song, “Were You There”. It makes everything deeply personal.
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they crucified my Lord?Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they nailed Him to the tree?Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they pierced Him in the side?Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when the sun refused to shine?Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
Oh…Sometimes it causes me to tremble…tremble…tremble
Were you there when they laid Him in the tomb?
When I hear this song, I can close my eyes and suddenly be transported back to that Friday—to the sights, the sounds, the smells. I see Mary and John and the others. I see the shadow of the Cross across the dirt and gravel, the blood beginning to dry along the grain of the wood, the lifeless body above. The air is heavy with sorrow.
Fade into another scene, years before with Mary and Joseph in the stable, the shepherds, the animals, the night sky and the star above. The air is crisp and fresh.
Fade into another scene, an early Sunday morning, the dew is fresh upon the grass, everything is aglow in the golden rays of the rising sun. Mary Magdalene, the apostle to the Apostles, is running with determination back to the others, tears streaming down her face, crying and laughing with renewed joy to tell the good news.