I have just returned from a weekend meditation retreat. It was largely non-denominational but had a slight Christian bias.
Nothing remarkable happened except for at the end. Glancing through a book I came upon the image above and was overwhelmed.
The awful humanity of the scene entrapped me as if I was there. Bent beneath the body, the man carrying Jesus must be covered in his blood. His delicacy and his strength resonates. Their love for the man who has died is clear. And it became for me, in that moment, our love. And Jesus could have been my father, your brother, another’s child.
And yet, something even a bit more. I see in that moment these men and women were bearing the Divinity. Not just something outside of themselves but were carrying their own Divinity. They held God in their hands.
As indeed do we. With all its terribly and glorious weight. What we call to choose this Divinity is a matter of smaller importance.