The Quiet Day

Today there is no Gospel reading, no Mass of the Day.  It is a day of quiet, something quite natural after the experience of death.  Consider the quiet that comes over a family at the death of a loved one.  Yes, there are tears and weeping, but what words can be said that provide any meaning or comfort? It is only the silence shared together in which the grief and pain is processed that loved ones find healing and the strength to move forward.  

Consider another type of silence, one that comes in the face of encountering an injustice - what could be more unjust than the execution of an innocent person? This silence is not that of cowardice, but rather its opposite.  There is the urge to rage and lash out, to protest and demonstrate and riot.  But instead we gather together in silence, a silence that speaks of great resolve in the face of injustice.  It is a silence that says: we are here, we stand in solidarity with this person who died an unjust death - she is our sister, he is our brother.  This silence is a creed more profound than any ever written or spoken aloud.  

This is our silence today as Jesus lay in the tomb.  It is for us to consider others who die an unjust death every day in our world, whether it be through capital punishment; torture and war; the willful neglect of the poor, sick, elderly, and vulnerable in our world; or the violence of racism and other forms of discrimination and hatred.  To be with them in their death is to be with Christ in his and to profess our faith once again in the power of love over hate, loving-kindness over violence.