I thought she mentioned that the night of prayer would begin this weekend at St. John the Baptist's, so I planned to go and spend the night there on Friday night. A slumber party with Jesus and John the Baptist sounded pretty inviting, the thought of swimming in muddy waters comes to mind. As one friend's dad used to say "Jesus always loved a party, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!"
It was late after getting home from work, so I made it to the church just after midnight. St. John the Baptist Catholic Church is a beautiful building with a large sanctuary and large scale windows that bring the outdoors into full view. The parking lots were empty when I arrived, which is not unusual for there to be only one or two cars during the night when I've been back to St. Monica's, and since there were several parking areas around I didn't think much about it. I collected my things (book, journal, small pillow and blanket) and finding the doors unlocked I went inside.
St. John the Baptist Sanctuary (lights on)
Once inside, I entered the door to the small chapel where the Holy Eucharist is usually kept; however, unlike the time I was there before, the room was totally dark. I could see through the round window that opens up to a view of the sanctuary that it was also completely dark in the sanctuary except for the street lights shining through the large stained glass windows.
Small chapel at St. John the Baptist Catholic Church (lights on)
The darkness of the empty chapels which are usually well lit with lights and candles burning, an atmosphere of quiet prayer and humility, left me with a cold feeling of absence much like in Morrison's song:
Riders on the storm
Riders on the storm
Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown
Like a dog without a bone
An actor out alone
Riders on the storm
There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday
Let your children play
If ya give this man a ride
Sweet memory will die
Killer on the road, yeah ..."
I felt like an actor out alone, a rider on the storm. The glimpse of the darkness in the chapel gave me a deeper appreciation of the nights I was there in the warmth and light. I imagined what it would be like if Jesus hadn't come into the world and we were all thrust into the darkness of the world like a dog without a bone. And speaking of a bone, my "killer on the road" has been my recent battle with breast cancer. The diagnosis last summer was that it had metastasized to my bones. There was no evidence of disease to any tissue or organs, however the lymph glands near my kidneys were swollen and began to cause them to shut down the flow to my bladder on both sides. I had to have stints placed in both sides to keep them working, so as long as they remain open, my health has been fine. The most recent bone scan and CT scan were clear of any activity since beginning hormone therapy, along with the Cherokee Indian Herbal medicine in the form of a tea I drink daily. Aside from having to replace the stints every few months, an outpatient procedure, as the swelling goes down, my health has been really great and I refuse to "give this man (cancer) a ride"!
What a difference one unassuming Jewish rabbi made in the world. Sometimes the absence of just one person can be like that. I appreciated the silence in memory of the death and burial of Jesus, in honor of his family, Mary and Joseph, of his friends, what it must have been like for them to lose such a remarkable light. I am thankful to know those in my life whose presence has been a light for me, and I keep a candle burning for those who have gone out. I am also thankful for the power the promises in the scriptures and the hope of the resurrection brings. Also, until we meet again, Jesus left us with a meal to remember him by, another Jewish tradition I admire.
