Grief at the Foot of the Cross

As we confront the profound loss and disorientation following the crucifixion, we take a deeply introspective turn, inviting you to walk beside those who mourned at the foot of the cross.  We witness Mary's ocean of grief for her son, while Peter's guilt for denying Jesus is laid bare, each narrative a raw and unfiltered account of human vulnerability and resilience. Mary Magdalene's despair resonates with anyone who has faced the void left by a loved one's passing, and Nicodemus's reflective transformation underscores the power of faith in the most trying of times. Together, we grapple with the teachings left behind, seeking light in the darkest of shadows.

Be sure to subscribe to this podcast on Google Podcasts, Apple, Amazon Music, Spotify, or follow us on the Facebook pages of Gate of Heaven Cemetery in Los Altos, California, or Calvary Cemetery in San Jose, California.

SPIRITUAL DIRECTION WHILE GRIEVING IS AVAILABLE FREE OF CHARGE

You can reach us at: ccoutreach@dsj.org
To arrange personal spiritual direction:  408-359-5542


Our theme music is:  Gentle Breeze by Yeti Music from the album "Uppbeat".
Additional Music and sound effects today by:   via Pixabay

Transcript

Candee Lucas: 0:53

We imagine those souls gathered at the foot of the cross once Jesus has passed into eternity, and we wonder what they are thinking. Mary, his mother thinks you were my firstborn son. The light of my very life. I held you in my arms, at my breast, wiped your tears. Now your face, your brow, is barely recognizable to me. Your eyes are dark. Your precious blood leaks from your forehead and pours down your face like ready rain. The day has grown dark on the ground, fowl have gone silent, lambs grow still. I can only hear my own keening and weeping and the roar in my chest that is an ache for your broken self. Hands are reaching out to me, but I cannot bear the touch of those still living when you are not.

Candee Lucas: 2:15

This is your death, my son, my beloved son. Why has your father asked this? Will your sacrifice not be dragged back from the cliff like Isaac's? Where is the hart in your stead? There will be no reprieve from this. My agony is boundless, my son, as is yours. I know that your precious blood must be shed, but can a mother's blood not suffice? Can I be allowed a final chance to save yours?

Candee Lucas: 2:54

Our world now becomes endless night. A crack of light only serves to revive the pain, mock us in our pre-morning, deprive us from any sensibility, abandon us. Abandon us. Abandon me, my son. Teach me to take my next breath. Then Peter speaks.

Candee Lucas: 3:43

I went to Judas as you urged me to. He was gone into the desert to devour his misery and betrayal. Yet I know you loved him and love him still. His black soul may rest in Sheol, but you love him. My own betrayal seems so pale. Indeed, I love you, master, above all men, and call you king and brother and messiah. The crowing cock confused and alarmed me, and I was concerned about the others. They had scattered into the night and you see, of the twelve, (eleven left) I am the only one here with you now. The others are surely hiding in fear and wearing their own anguish as a cloak, so they may recognize each other when next we gather. Or have they gone to the comfort of their loved ones? Who can blame them? But I am here, here with you. Surely you know how flawed a friend I am. Yet you love Judas. I am sorry your rock has crumbled on the first day. Teach me to obey. From Mary Magdalene.

Candee Lucas: 5:34

Beloved Lord, I am in agony. Your death is too near, too real, too near to my own heart. What shall I do? Where shall I go? Who will believe this woman, wither that goest? I must go, but cannot. It is as you told us it would be.

Candee Lucas: 6:09

There is a wounding pain in all my soul. I cannot bear to see your blood seeping into the ground. I see your face and your tears and you cannot bear what I cannot bear. When you have already born it, I can no longer weep for myself, but only for you, my Lord. My heart has turned cold now. My tears are unending. My grief cannot be extinguished and feels like it will forever burn. A shadow has fallen over everything. Dark days loom in front of me and I doubt my own capacity for tomorrow. The voices of others are muffled, words drained of all meaning and warmth. My heart is broken, shattered. Your death has imploded my life, upended me, robbed me of all resilience, fractured my foundations, made hopelessness a constant companion. Where is the warmth of our love and companionship? What can lessen the pain and loss of you? Teach me to love again.

Candee Lucas: 7:57

The Nicodemus speaks. Master, we were mistaken. We did not see, we did not know, we did not understand. You are truly the Son of man, the Son of God, the Messiah, the One prayed for. I will do what I can. Although it is the Sabbath, I will make the preparations and fetch the oils and linen so the women may proceed. I will see your death made right under the laws Our people know your death may be bewildering for your soul, for it is in a vulnerable state of transition, disconnected from both the past and the future. Shemira will show their respect and prayers, show that they care, will be of comfort to your soul, as the souls of the living provide a frame of reference for the soul of those newly departed. We will make certain to comfort your soul as go and journey and prepare the Tahara and recite the 23rd Psalm. Teach me to remember. Then I am given a chance to speak.

Candee Lucas: 9:42

Beloved Rabbi, I followed you here because you asked me to, because you asked it of me, because you asked me to be with Mother. I am with her, but my thoughts are with you, only with you. I went to share your last tear, your last breath. Now, your face, your brows barely recognizable, I want to lay my cheek upon yours one last time, but I cannot bear to feel your life force dim. We talked about this day.

Candee Lucas: 10:26

For some time you tried to prepare me, but my heart was not prepared. I know you want me to be with Mother to comfort her as best I can, but I must first steel of my own mourning, my own broken-heartedness, my own quiet horror that your death has come to be. I will be with her and with Magdalene to prepare your body. The women will do what women do. Weep as we honor you one last time. Why this scene, beloved Rabbi? Why this one? You asked me to sit with Eve and with Adam as they were cast into the mud of the diaspora. Surely a horrible day. Now, with your death, we are all joined in that great diaspora from God. We will spend our living waiting for the end to be with you forever, holy, as we reach out to you, as our Alpha and Omega. Teach me to live with hope.