What does it all mean?

I am not a very good person.

I am variously angry, spiteful, lustful, nasty, crude, unkind, even evil. I am all too aware of my shortcomings both personal and professional. Were I to be judged solely by the results of my actions and the state of my heart...well, let's not go there.

This is a day to remember all that. This is a day to lament all that shows I am not and indeed cannot, solely of my own accord, be the kind of person I truly want to be: decent, kind, trusting, trustworthy, dedicated, prayerful, and above all, loving.

Today all that is dark and disturbing in my soul seems to be all-powerful.  To quote a psalm, "My heart is in anguish within me, the terrors of death have fallen upon me. Fear and trembling come upon me, and horror overwhelms me."

Solzhentizyn said the line between good and evil runs through every man's heart, and today I can see that so clearly--and the balance seems to me to be running to the evil side.

And yet...

Hear this from the rest of Psalm 55:

But I call upon God,
and the Lord will save me.
Evening and morning and at noon
I utter my complaint and moan,
and he will hear my voice.
Cast your burden on the Lord,
and he will sustain you;
he will never permit
the righteous to be moved.

On this day, I remember the darkness of that first Great and Holy Friday. Whether or not it actually was a Friday is immaterial. What happened is the important thing.

On this day, I remember an innocent victim going to the cross.

On this day, I remember my failings, the darkness of my heart, the wages of sin, the pains of hell...and as St. Silouan counsels, I do not despair.

You may not believe. That is your option, your choice. You may think me a fool for believing as I do in the Son of God, Jesus Christ, yet I have seen and experienced enough self-induced pain and enough beauty, forgiveness and healing from somewhere that your mockery does not affect me.

This is the day the weight of my own wretchedness began to be lifted from my shoulders. And I can look forward to the early morning very soon when I can sing with George Herbert:

Rise heart; thy Lord is risen. Sing his praise
Without delays,
Who takes thee by the hand, that thou likewise
With him may'st rise;
That, as his death calcined thee to dust,
His life may make thee gold, and much more, Just.

Awake, my lute, and struggle for thy part
With all thy art.
The cross taught all wood to resound his name
Who bore the same.
His stretched sinews taught all strings, what key
Is best to celebrate this most high day.

Consort both heart and lute, and twist a song
Pleasant and long:
Or since all music is but three parts vied,
And multiplied;
O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part,
And make up our defects with his sweet art.

Glory to Jesus Christ!