The Empty Tomb

Why do we try to fill an empty space a quickly as possible?

This was one crazy Lent. For me, and perhaps for many others, we initially set out to offer certain sacrifices so long ago when we were marked with ashes; these then were tossed aside or rendered ineffectual due to the complete uprooting of our daily schedules, grocery lists, and plans; or they simply appeared miniscule and trivial in comparison to what we were required to give up or what others were forced to suffer. 

Part of this penitential journey comprises of creating space, making room for Christ.

We dig out those false fillers, whose satisfaction remains superficial.

– Truly, their pleasure only proves lasting if it’s rooted in a more permanent happiness. My afternoon latte or bite of chocolate tastes better and fills me more when I acknowledge the Creator of all things yummy and thank Him for its goodness. Nevertheless, occasionally doing without my little pleasures also reminds me of Him who is goodness, fortifies me to face my frustrations, and makes certain I remain dependent on the Creator, not the creations, to get me through.

So what of this particular season? I usually experience a specific catharsis after persevering through my resolutions and a sense that I’ve refocused my life and prayers before the Holy Triduum. Sometimes these feelings are small, especially if I’m looking for them when my life is hectic with little ones or illness. Yet, other years, like this one, I grow annoyed: I’ve reached no apex, experienced no extra graces, thought no profundities in prayer. It’s as if I’m still running but haven’t broken through that physical wall to feel I’ve conquered myself and can welcome the endorphins.

Sometimes we’re at this point because we are still running. Liturgically, the victory is here but in our own interior life, that summit has not been reached.

Yet, we must also ask: have we simply re-filled that empty space with other things before joy could enter in?

What frustration might I have put there? What anger? What worry? It’s hard to empty ourselves and then wait – empty –  for God’s grace to come.

By nature, I’m a doer so I will find a new project to fill that emptying schedule. Stuck at home? Look at all those things that need repairing! Children’s activities canceled? Think of all those unit studies and crafts I’ve wanted to do but never fit in! Living a simpler life? Hmmm…my son might be needing more vitamin supplements or counseling to address those behavior issues – and is my daughter struggling with anything I can fix… More time to be quiet with God? Let me tell you, Lord, about all those things in my life I’m angry about right now! I can’t even be with you!

Ahem. How many of these obstacles are we ourselves throwing up?

What emotions and fears are we stuffing into that emptiness we’ve tried to carve out?

Today, we read how Mary of Magdala is distraught because the tomb is empty. Jesus isn’t there. She can’t be with him. Then he appears! And she wants to fill her arms with him. And he says – no. Go be with my disciples. Which means leaving him there in the garden.

Grace and joy are always there to fill our empty spaces. We can’t always feel them – sometimes they’re present in a deeper knowing. But we also need to remember a little emptiness is a good thing! Because we’re not supposed to feel completely filled unless we in that ecstatic union with God, which we cannot know until we’ve passed through heaven’s gate.  

If you feel full of that joy today, thank Him. If you feel stuffed with anxieties, offer some of them to Him right now to make some room.

Guys, the tomb is EMPTY.

Rejoice in that. It means an expert gardener is at work, even if the blooms are still hiding.