Liz Wood

Dear Friends,

I hate to admit it, but patience is not my strong suit. When I want to do something, or get somewhere, or make something happen, I tend to want it right away, and I often find it hard to relax. Most of the time you will find me multi-tasking - even though I am trying to be more disciplined about not looking at my phone when I’m in a meeting or checking my email when I am supposed to be listening to what someone is telling me! Even on vacation – and to the amusement (or irritation?) of my family – my first question at breakfast is usually “what’s the plan for today?” I like to know how I am going to fill the time, what events and activities are going to keep me occupied. And I am never, ever, without a book, just in case! As you can imagine, this makes the concept of the Sabbath, a day of rest, of not planning work or other activities, challenging for me, and it seems as if I can always find an excuse why something must get done that day, can’t wait – a work project or a family obligation, phone calls or errands that can’t be put off until Monday. I’m working on it!

And so, I have always wondered how the disciples and followers of Jesus spent their time between his death on the cross and their discovery of his resurrection. In today’s Gospel, we read the story of Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and the other women who were with them--we don’t know all of their names, or how many of them there were altogether. But we know two things about them--first, that the day after they witnessed the crucifixion, although there were things that they needed and wanted to do, they observed the Sabbath. Even in their confusion and grief, they obeyed the Law and they waited. Perhaps they sang and prayed and talked together or perhaps they slept or sat in silence. And secondly, only when it was time, when the Sabbath was over, did they get together the spices and ointments they needed to carry out the ritual preparation of the body of Jesus. How long and hard a wait must that have been? How tempting to make a case that this was such a different circumstance that surely an exception could be justified? How must they have itched to get on with it? But only when the Sabbath was over, did they make their way to the tomb to carry out their tasks--only to get there and find the stone rolled away and the body gone. By the time they got there, the miracle had happened.

Perhaps, in our desire to always be busy, to be (and be seen to be) occupied and “getting things done,” we are actually missing out. We think of patience as a state of passive inaction, or weakness, when it can be one of faith and strength, a practice of trust. Instead of biding our time and waiting and watching and praying, we rush into situations too soon, too quickly, unprepared. We need to be people of action, for sure, but sometimes we also need to wait, to go when the time is right, to show up only when we are meant to. Sometimes we need to wait until the miracle has happened.

Liz Wood