Today We're Not Talking
The feature that stands out the most for us about Tafelkop is the fog. In the 9 months we have been living here, it has been and is a constant – winter and summer, early morning, late afternoon, at dusk when we go for a walk, then the fog rolls in through the gap where the road goes through Kastrolnek. As if it were constantly pressing against the back of Tefelkop, discovering the opening, breaking through and spilling over roofs, yards, fields. With the thick veil drawn over everything, we know there are still big trees in the lane. We hear them dripping. Other than that, it is dead silent.
In between. Not quite rain and not quite sky. Not totally dark, but not really light either.
Today is Silent Saturday.
The foggy day. Somewhere between death and life, where something has passed, but the new is not yet. Where the familiar beacons that provide our coordinates and make us feel safe are gone. And vague outlines are no indication of new life.
In the Reformed tradition in which we grew up, Silent Saturday was a non-day. Not Good Friday and not Easter Sunday. Only on Saturday where the hardware store is open at least, so you can buy the things for the loose repairs that can be done over the long weekend. Just a day.
Besides, so we believed, we have a resurrection faith and live a life of victory. Easter Sunday is actually our day.
It's not just a Reformed trait. Actually, it is generally human. We are drawn to victory and vibrant life like a moth to a candle.
It's as if even the Gospel writers jumped directly from Friday to Easter Sunday. Only Luke briefly mentions in Luke 23:56 that they rested on the Sabbath.
Thank God, there is resurrection and life. What a great gift is the new and awakening.
However, we would overlook the heart of Jesus' message and what the events around Easter want to convey to us if we see resurrection as the main and only message of Easter. It's about life, definitely. But it's really about a pattern: death, waiting, life; death, waiting, life…
And to be honest, we live most of our lives in Silent Saturday. Where we are not quite sure and the outlines of beacons are vague. Where we often find our way by feeling in the dark.
Today we don't talk. We do not have a recording of a conversation. We are silent in the hope that this rich day will sensitize us to know that God is also in times where we simply do not know very well. Where it is only our experience that allows us to say with certainty that in today's video a mountain was filmed.
With much love.
George & Matilda
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