It was about noon,
and darkness came over the whole land
until three in the afternoon,
for the sun stopped shining.
And the curtain of the temple was torn in two.
Jesus called out with a loud voice,
"Father, into your hands I commend my spirit."
When he had said this, he breathed his last.
Luke 23:44-46
Two things are happening at once.
The darkest night,
and the most outrageous access to the Divine.
The sun stops shining.
The temple curtain is ripped in half.
In the darkest moment of Jesus' agony,
the brightest hope of reconciliation with God comes to be.
It was dark for three hours.
No normal eclipse.
And no one knew how long it would be.
The end of the world, it must have seemed.
But the most incredible of things was also true.
The curse of sin was now reversed.
What separated us from God was now paid in full.
And Jesus breathed his last breath,
and hope is breathed out --
Pneuma, Spirit, breath --
in the midst of the darkest hours.
No one can fathom the darkness that covers Haiti.
Just when you think it can't get any worse, it does.
So all the more the wonder,
the triumph,
the hope,
when people step up to be Jesus
in the darkest hours.
Bringing light and love and hope.
For God, who said,
"Let light shine out of darkness,"
made his light shine in our hearts
to give us the light of the knowledge of God's glory
displayed in the face of Christ.
But we have this treasure in jars of clay
to show that this all-surpassing power
is from God and not from us.
We are hard pressed on every side,
but not crushed;
perplexed, but not in despair;
persecuted, but not abandoned;
struck down, but not destroyed.
We always carry around in our body
the death of Jesus,
so that the life of Jesus
may also be revealed in our body.
2 Corinthians 4:6-10
To our dear friends at Auberge des Vieillards,
all those who live there and love each other in Christ,
we pray peace and safety and resurrection power over you,
this Easter season,
and always.