Digging

I always feel I should dig on Holy Saturday, dig good dark earth, not just with the spade but with my hands. I need to feel the soil, smell its goodness, see its darkness. On this liminal day, the between time, when flesh has been taken down from cross and lies resting in the cool of the earth, when there is no hint of a future, I need to return to the earth. This life-giving earth in which we plant the bodies of those we love somehow draws me. In L’Aquila today they planted 228 new bodies in their garden – children and strong men, women and grandmothers. What hope on this day?

I dig to be close to that dark cruel earth, and that darkness, to discover something warm, some hint of life to come.

Dig for victory?

Dig is desperation (like those who search for earthquake victims?

Dig simply because it takes my mind of darker things (like Peter fishing)?

Dig ……. daring to find what I dare not hope for.