![]() ![]() ![]() He did not die.Ī few years ago I bought the Katherine Jenkins version of this song for my mother. ![]() We experience his presence in so many ways – in the winds, the snow, the rain, the stillness of dawn, in birds circling in the vastness if the sky, in the myriad stars of night. I kept telling myself “he’s not there, the tomb is empty”, which was of course the whole point. On my last opportunity I queued for over 90 minutes with a few fellow pilgrims – with no guarantee that we would get in before it closed. We had walked the Via Dolorosa on our “Good Friday”, and I had three attempts at going in the empty tomb. I had the incredible good fortune to go on pilgrimage to the Holy Land with a group from Manchester diocese. This timing is relevant because whilst rehearsing a setting of this poem with the Manchester Chorale recently I was reminded of being in Jerusalem last November. We have yet to celebrate Ascension Day and Pentecost – although I know that these will be behind us when this is published. I am the soft stars that shine at night.Īt time of writing the Easter season is still going strong.She told Frye that she had not even been able to “stand at her graveside and shed a tear”. The friend had fled Germany for America, and for obvious reasons was unable to be with her terminally ill mother when she died. This well-known poem was written in 1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye in response to a conversation with a Jewish friend. This article first appeared in the June 2018 issue of our parish magazine. ![]()
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