This is taken from Sacred Space.
At Easter we meditate on the body, my body. This flesh is not distinct from me. It is me. The faces we see around us are lived in, showing the signs of love, suffering, pride, tenderness, arrogance or indulgence. As the proverb says: The face you have at forty is the face that you deserve. So too our hands are shaped by the skills we give them, our limbs by the exercise we offer them, our lungs, heart and stomach by the use or abuse we show them. This is a time to converse with this loved but mortal flesh: Do I listen to you? Have I the freedom of you? Do I respect you, my temple of the Holy Spirit? You will indeed grow old and die with me, but that is not the end. You are sacred, and Easter opens a ravishing prospect for both of us.
