God wants useable instruments who will carry the mystery, the weight of glory and the burden of sin simultaneously, who can bear the darkness and the light, who can hold the paradox of incarnation—flesh and spirit, human and divine, joy and suffering, at the same time, just as Jesus did. Watch what Jesus does and do the same thing! That, indeed, is hard… This is the only goodness that is available to humans, but it is more than enough. As Jesus himself will later say, “God alone is good” (Mark 10:18). Such a text gives us both glorious and non-inflating goals. There is no appeal to the ego here, only to our need and desire for union—with our own selves and with God.
“Out of the darkness of my life, so much frustrated, I put before you the one great thing to love on earth: The Blessed Sacrament … There you will find romance, glory, honor, fidelity, and the true way of all your loves on earth, and more than that: Death. By the divine paradox, that which ends life, and demands the surrender of all, and yet by the taste (or foretaste) of which alone can what you seek in your earthly relationships (love, faithfulness, joy) be maintained, or take on that complexion of reality, of eternal endurance, which every man’s heart desires.”— J. R. R. Tolkien, p. 119
“Let us recognize that there is no other way to come to the dawn than by passing through the night. And in the night of crisis, all of us need to remain united. Together, through honest dialogue and pure intentions, we can bring light where there is darkness. Let us entrust every effort and commitment to Christ, the Prince of Peace… Brothers and sisters, may the night of conflicts recede before a new dawn of hope.” Pope Francis
My children are light sleepers, so when they fall asleep on me in the rocking chair, it can be a real challenge to get them into their crib without waking them up. Over time I’ve learned the delicate art of pressing them close during the transfer. That way, even if the chair and the floor (and my knees!) all creak in unison, the stirring child quickly softens back to sleep as soon as I gently tighten my embrace.
I’ve often found that God holds us with the same closeness during the difficult transitions of our lives. And unexpected
people often emerge to lead us through the darkness. We see this when Christ met Saul, held him close, and led him to Ananias. Previously fearful of Saul’s murderous threats, Ananias lays his hands upon him, heals him, feeds him, even watches as he takes his first wobbly steps as a newly baptized Christian.
Jesus invites us to draw even closer: Whoever eats my Flesh and drinks my Blood remains in me and I in him. Christ’s very life, lavishly given to us at each and every moment. This lavish love is the foundation of our communion, which we are called to share—always and without exception—with others (even those breathing murderous threats against us). This is the hard work of the Christian life. And it is the place of the graced encounter with God in Christ, who holds us, carries us, and embraces us, even though all we may see is darkness.
Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning. . . . —Lamentations 3:22-23
Lamentations is not lighthearted reading; it’s a collection of desperate cries from the bottom of a pit. The author laments the suffering of God’s people during their time of captivity, which left them trapped in misery for years.
But in the middle of the book, a glimmering light shines through the darkness, as the weeping writer lifts his head and proclaims hope in the God of love and compassion. We witness the progression from a downcast, bitter soul (verse 20) to an upright, resolute warrior refusing to be consumed by the troubles of life (verse 22).
The rallying cry of confidence is that God will ultimately save his people.
This passage is a favorite of my Aunt Ruth, who has become increasingly paralyzed over the past 45 years from a debilitating disease. For months at a time, she was unable to speak because of tracheal stenosis, and she has endured more than 30 surgeries. In those quiet seasons, she would still whisper to her soul, “The Lord is my portion; therefore I will wait for him” (verse 24).
Aunt Ruth is one who knows that problems don’t disappear overnight, yet she testifies that God’s mercies to her are new every morning. We too can find God’s blessings in big and small ways each day if we make a point of looking for them. Great is God’s faithfulness.
Lord, we often allow the darkness of night to overshadow our daytime. Shine the light of your love on us each day so that we can see your blessings. Amen.
Since Christ is resurrected, we can look with new eyes and a new heart at every event of our lives, even the most negative ones. Moments of darkness, of failure and even sin can be transformed and announce the beginning of a new path. When we have reached the lowest point of our misery and our weakness, the Risen Christ gives us the strength to rise again. If we entrust ourselves to him, his grace saves us! The Lord, Crucified and Risen, is the full revelation of mercy, present and working throughout history.”—Pope Francis
The tricky thing about Easter is that while our faith and often our minds tell us that now life is all alleluias and rainbows, the reality is that sometimes we’re still caught in some dark places. We might not be quite feeling the joy of resurrection. In today’s Gospel, Peter, James, John and the other disciples are going back to their fishing boats. We get the sense that they’ve given up on this life of proclaiming the Good News. They’re discouraged, they’re confused. They’ve seen the Risen Christ in the upper room but then he vanished again. It turns out the fishing isn’t all that great either. But they listened to the stranger on the beach telling them to try the other side of the boat. And Peter remembered the very beginning of his time with Jesus, when the novice told the experienced fisherman how to catch fish. He recognized the voice, the call, the inspiration. And, once again, his life was about to change. Pope Francis reminds us that at the heart of it all—our joys, our sorrows, our trials, our challenges, our heartaches—God’s presence is as simple and profound as a fire, a simple meal, a new way of seeing reality. The death and resurrection of Jesus reminds us that God knows it’s never easy. The Risen Christ bore the wounds of the cross as a sign of that. Remember that he’s with us every step of the way, loving us, nudging us forward, showing us a new way to see.
“Love has triumphed over hatred, life has conquered death, light has dispelled the darkness! Christians, by the grace of Christ, dead and risen, are the seeds of another humanity, in which we seek to live in service to one another, not to be arrogant, but rather respectful and ready to help. This is not weakness, but true strength!… May there echo in your hearts, in your families and communities, the announcement of the Resurrection, along with the warm light of the presence of the Living Jesus: a presence which brightens, comforts, forgives, gladdens. Jesus conquered evil at the root: he is the Door of Salvation, open wide so that each person may find mercy.”—Pope Francis
One of the ironies of the liturgical year is that we often find it easier to enter into the rigorous practices of Lent than to celebrate the joy of Easter and the Risen Lord. We know with our minds this great mystery of our faith. But we don’t always experience that joy in our hearts. It goes so far beyond our human experience that we have nothing to compare to it. At the heart of the story on Easter Sunday is the empty tomb. The stories of the appearances will come later, unfolding the mystery of the resurrection. But the first message to the apostles is that the tomb is empty. Somewhere in the darkness of the Easter Vigil and the pale dawn of Easter Sunday, each of us must confront the empty tomb and discover for ourselves the Risen Christ. Pope Francis reminds us that our joy in the Risen Christ calls us to a quiet love and service, wrapped in the awareness that our life in Christ needs no trumpets or pomp and earthly glory. We have a peace in our hearts that is stronger than death itself. All our hope lies in that promise.
