The view this morning from my favorite bench in Golden Gate Park This morning, Holy Saturday, I did my holy hour at a favorite hideout in Golden Gate Park. On only these two days of the year (Good Friday and Holy Saturday), Jesus’ sacramental Presence is absent from our churches. Tabernacles stand empty, doors agape, little red flames extinguished. We pray in our empty churches to an absent God, and we sit under the blue sky in parks and backyards in silence. Yesterday was warm and sunny in San Francisco, and so this morning I looked forward to a delicious hour in the predawn park. But it was the droning boom of foghorns that greeted me from beyond the window pane as the alarm woke me up.
Every hour is different with Jesus. Sometimes they begin in sunny warmth, filled with joyful expectation. Sometimes they begin in disappointment and doubt. Indeed, it was hard to get out of bed this morning and I wondered about spending time with Jesus later in the day. But earlier is always better, so I bundled up and started out for the park.
Today my hour began in darkness and fog. An ocean wind lightly whipped condensation droplets about my bench. My friend the night owl was still softly hooting as the daybirds began waking up. I gradually began to perceive the Presence from my bench, and then I read a few lines that brought Him to me full force. “There is a scene in the Gospel that anticipates the silence of Holy Saturday … a portrait of our historical hour. Christ is sleeping in a boat about to sink….” Joseph Ratzinger wrote these words some years ago as he watched our little human boat flail about in the waves of history. “God sleeps while His affairs are about to sink. … Do the Church and the faith not appear like a little sinking ship ... while God is absent?”
My hour began today without God, but in a moment He came to me. The fog had not cleared, but the birds were singing lustily—all kinds of them! Again they sing, and again a new day begins with God’s Word: “It was I who brought you here. Stay with me and discover what your life means. You are in the right place.”
Every hour with God is different. Some hours begin in darkness, others in light. Some end in vapidity, others yield inspiration. But always, always He is there. It is ours simply to show up, to stay still, and to listen.
Every hour is different with Jesus. Sometimes they begin in sunny warmth, filled with joyful expectation. Sometimes they begin in disappointment and doubt. Indeed, it was hard to get out of bed this morning and I wondered about spending time with Jesus later in the day. But earlier is always better, so I bundled up and started out for the park.
Today my hour began in darkness and fog. An ocean wind lightly whipped condensation droplets about my bench. My friend the night owl was still softly hooting as the daybirds began waking up. I gradually began to perceive the Presence from my bench, and then I read a few lines that brought Him to me full force. “There is a scene in the Gospel that anticipates the silence of Holy Saturday … a portrait of our historical hour. Christ is sleeping in a boat about to sink….” Joseph Ratzinger wrote these words some years ago as he watched our little human boat flail about in the waves of history. “God sleeps while His affairs are about to sink. … Do the Church and the faith not appear like a little sinking ship ... while God is absent?”
My hour began today without God, but in a moment He came to me. The fog had not cleared, but the birds were singing lustily—all kinds of them! Again they sing, and again a new day begins with God’s Word: “It was I who brought you here. Stay with me and discover what your life means. You are in the right place.”
Every hour with God is different. Some hours begin in darkness, others in light. Some end in vapidity, others yield inspiration. But always, always He is there. It is ours simply to show up, to stay still, and to listen.
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