I wonder if there are two sorts of emptiness – empty emptiness and full emptiness. Such wonderfully crazy language. An emptiness in which God is and an emptiness in which God isn't.
I found refuge in the Mass when I needed refuge because the Mass is ritualised mourning, instituted (?) with the aim of never moving beyond memorial and mourning. As such Christianity can never fully participate in the sheer adventurousness of life and perhaps has no desire to do so with its sights set on the world beyond this one. For Christianity the journey (at times) appears to be one of plodding sorrowfully along with Christ on his way to Calvary, with Christ dying on the cross, and rising with Christ beyond this world to the next. Not rebirth into life here but rather elevated to an unimaginable realm of God.
Is it possible that secularisation is more in tune with God's plan? We have to grow up, to live and bear the weight and the lightness of our possibilities. To shift and play in the spaces that are given (and some we steal, or at least borrow), chasing the adventure, hiding, seeking succour.
I'm being taught by my children now; a new generation is coming into its power, and, I ask, have I got anything to offer in the future. Returning to study, integrating what I might have been in the past, the storm and ship wreck, working it into a shape with or against the grain of what is granted.