It’s not torn yet, just empty. We know what’s
coming – we’ve been here before. Imperfect
preparations have placed us at the mercy of
this moment – unready and unworthy, we are
gathered to bear witness, to commemorate in
this communion. A sequence of events that
began at Christmas has almost concluded here.
Almost, but not quite. The end creeps ever near,
like a thief in this darkest of nights. Now the
re-enactment is over, the music has ceased, the
seats are occupied, the pieces and actors all in
place. The waiting has begun. The tabernacle
lies empty; it’s not torn yet – that’s for tomorrow.