Our altar is a well, a well of living water. For why would any of us come to the altar if not to receive something, something living that nourishes our souls? But of course if anyone has ever peered into a well, first there is darkness. First we feel an abyss. And in order to reach the life giving water in the well, we must first enter the deep, dark black. Passiontide calls us to enter this blackness. Passiontide calls us to seek the living water in the darkness.
Within each human heart there is also a place that is deep and dark. This is that part of our hearts where things are unknown, wounded, and where we are alone. It is that part of our hearts that when we enter, we fall to our knees. This is why we hear from the altar during these weeks before Easter ‘…my heart lies lamenting on the ground…’
And yet, anyone who descends into a well does so with trust, trust in what can be found. And this is the most important thing for our journey into the blackness; that we trust even when we can’t see, even when we can’t hear, even when we don’t know! That we trust that in the depths of our emptiness, in the center of our woundedness, there is His living water to be found. This is the path of the cross. This is the path of the Christ in you.
Courage to descend.
A willingness to feel our longing for the Spirit.
Trust, that the living water is in the darkness.
These are our tools for the well. Passiontide calls us to find Him there.
This contemplation by Rev. Evans was inspired by the passiontide liturgy and Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem.