“It is finished” he cried. Jesus descends into hell and the third day he is back. He reappears to his followers (what a relief), but how painful it is because they can not cling to him. He then goes away for good only to send his Spirit.

I have not been able to stop thinking about how empathy is written into the Church’s plan for Lent. Since I live in the future I have already fast forwarded to the departure of Christ and have paused there today. My mind has been there all day long.

We arrived this morning after our Easter service to find that our next door neighbors were moving. This was sad for me. I never really knew them except for a few exchanges that we shared with our children. They spoke Spanish so we never held a real conversation. They watched us celebrate our holidays and looked on with confusion; we did the same. I always wanted to get to know them but they never would give me the chance. All in all they seemed happy, but I always sensed a fear in them as if they had some secret to hide, as if I were a threat to them. I think that they did not belong to our country; they were probably illegal.

The house was already beginning to look empty as we pulled our car up. I reflected on all the faces they made with our conversations. I remember some words we shared and times when my words may have frightened them, not because I said something wrong, but if they really were illegal, it could have made them worry. They always smiled but it seemed to be more of a shield for them. I truly wanted to do something about that shield. I wonder if they ever shared the same feelings about me as I did for them.

As I brushed my teeth and looked on the dark and empty house tonight I sighed. I wish I had known them. I wish that I had loved them. They were my neighbors; they were Christ! I had envisioned our children one day playing together. I had hoped that one day our shields would drop and our hands would shake. I wondered how hard it would be to take down our privacy fences. I dreamed of our families eating together, exchanging gifts, and laughing at our cultural differences.

I have always been the type of person who wants to stay. I always want visiting friends and relatives to stay. I long for a world where neighbors stay. I know this was true for the followers of Christ. It must have been wrenching for those friends and followers who shared in Christ’s laughing, eating, drinking, working, miracles, etc. to stay while he goes. It must have been dreadful for those who betrayed, watched from distance; decided they would spend time with him tomorrow, or simply did not understand the language he was speaking, to carry on. Regardless, He was gone (as God incarnate) and those chances to share things with Him as only they could, were gone.
There is something devastating about the realization that time has passed and slipped through my fingers once more. I have always longed to experience a moment as if it could be bottled and stored, smelling it once more, drinking it, and enjoying it again and again with others. Few moments have been like that for me, but I sense it was the overwhelming consensus among the disciples and apostles. Peter himself probably wished more than any to start over with Christ and make it work better this time.

Perhaps, it was something I said that made them go. Could I have caused their home to be another temporary stop along the way? I will never have answers to certain questions, and neither will God’s people, for the moment has passed and now we must move on, but let us be moved in light of the past. Let us move and not let Him slip through our fingers without being the first one to wash his feet. For when he reappears as the gardener he will call us by our name and we will call him Lord.