Dear Sisters and Brothers in Christ,
My friend was a year younger than I. Naomi and I had entered graduate school together, both of us working towards masters degrees in music. She was a wonderful freelance musician. When she celebrated 5 years of being cancer-free, I rejoiced with her, but somehow she didn’t seem convinced. Soon after she discovered a new lump. The cancer had returned.
She was Jewish, but had always had a Christmas tree. I found myself telling her about a powerful spiritual experience I had just had, and so she hounded me with questions about God. Her parents were upset with those conversations and tried to keep us apart. They felt that if she didn’t talk about death, maybe she would recover.
I was relieved when she was hospitalized. It was easier to see her.
I showed up in the hospital one day at the same time as another friend. I’ll never forget how Naomi looked. She must have weighed barely 65 pounds. She had tears in her brown eyes, which seemed bigger than ever. She didn’t blink. Her stare was disconcerting. She kept saying something and pulling at the various tubes that were connected to her. Neither of us could understand her, but we found a nurse in the hall who nodded understandingly as we described her actions and said, “She’s ready to go.”
The kind nurse returned with us, unhooked Naomi from her machines and left us alone. Naomi looked right past us, held her arms up as if to greet someone, and tried with all her might to get out of bed. We couldn’t understand it. But she kept trying to lift her frail body and will it into the air. She would then fall back with exhaustion. She was looking beyond us, beyond the wall of the hospital room. She clearly saw someone. She was joyous and insistent, radiant even. We watched her in awe.
After perhaps a dozen attempts, she gave up. An orderly came with her dinner. It was clear she could not eat the food that was there, but after her strenuous efforts, we decided to give her at least some nourishment. I took the bread and rolled it up into little balls that she was able to swallow. Her friend gave her water with a straw.
Bread and water. Her last supper.
Naomi’s parents came into the room. I had the courage to tell them that we both thought she was ready to go and if there was anyone else who wanted to see her, they should come immediately. Her parents heard us.
The call went out, and her friends showed up that evening and the next morning. One person reported seeing her that morning sitting up in bed looking beautiful, peaceful and loved, surrounded by family and dear musician friends and colleagues. She died just a couple of hours later.
What did she see? She didn’t tell me, but I knew from our talks that what she really wanted was her own spiritual experience. She was given that gift.
On Easter morning, Mary Magdalene was given a gift. The one she loved as teacher, rabbi and friend had been crucified. She came to give his body a more proper burial, but the tomb was empty. She stood in the garden weeping. A man was standing there. Presuming him to be the gardener, she asked if he had carried the body away. He turned around and said to her, “Mary!” In that split second her world changed forever. She knew that voice. The one who had died was dead no longer.
No one can really tell us what or how to believe. We each have to discover that for ourselves. And we can never know when that gift might be given.
But when we do receive a sign, when we experience joy in the midst of sorrow, love in the midst of despair, life in the midst of death, our world changes forever. And we carry the seeds of that resurrection experience with us for the rest of our lives.
“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit.”
Romans 15:13
A blessed Easter to you!
In Christ and in His love,
Vicki+
Canon Pastor and Vicar
