Rethinking New Life
New Life
Today, as we begin the Easter season, we are invited to celebrate new life. After an exhausting, devastating, and at times confusing year, what does new life mean to you now? Does it mean something different than this time last year? And most importantly, are you ready to embrace new life or are you afraid? My guess is many of us are somewhere in between.
Countless times throughout the past year, I would say to myself, “This has to be when things turn around.” “This has to be the worst of it.” And then things would get worse. When I said this, my hope was in the expectation that things would get better quickly. Intellectually, I know that hope is a theological virtue that is not an attitude of optimism. Yet, while seeing so many people suffering, it is hard to keep my hope in the present moment. As priest and monk, Thomas Keating says, “...to hope for something better in the future is not the theological virtue of hope. Theological hope is based on God alone, who is both infinitely merciful and infinitely powerful right now.”
Am I Ready for New Life?
I have been feeling an excitement in the air with more and more people getting the vaccine and reentering the world. A lot of my family came over my house two weeks ago for dinner. It was the first time in eight months we had all been in one place together and I am deeply grateful for the moment. Yet I am asking myself, “Am I ready to celebrate new life?” To be honest, I’m a little guarded. As we begin to get back to some familiar routine with a vaccine, life is far from perfect. There are many COVID unknowns. Our country remains deeply divided. Anger and mistrust have become more common. Injustices continue to be exposed. Am I ready to focus on new life? And will new life look different to me than before the pandemic? It is a question worth pondering.
Something Pope Francis said years ago around Easter time really struck me. In the Vatican News dated April 4, 2014, he asked if we are afraid of new life. He said, “There are "bat-like Christians” who "prefer the shadows to the light of the Lord’s presence".
Here is an excerpt of the article reporting on the pope’s comments on the Gospel passage that recounts the appearance of the risen Jesus to the apostles.
The disciples instead of rejoicing are "shocked and frightened" thinking "that they have seen a ghost".
Jesus tries to make them understand that what they see is reality, he invites them to touch his body, he asks for food. He wants to lead them to the "joy of the Resurrection, the joy of his presence among them". But the disciples - the Pope observes - "pout of their joy they did not believe, they could not believe, because they were afraid of joy".
"This is a Christian's disease. We are afraid of joy. It is better to think: 'Yes, yes, God exists, but He is there; Jesus is Risen and He is there'. Somewhat distant. We are afraid of being close to Jesus, because this gives us joy. This is why there are so many mournful Christians, right? Those whose lives seem to be a continuous funeral. They prefer sadness to joy. They prefer to move in the shadows, not in the light of joy, like those animals who only come out at night, not in the light of the day, who cannot see anything. Like bats. And with a little sense of humor we can say that there are Christians bats who prefer the shadows to the light of the presence of the Lord".
Touching Our Wounds
Sometimes we are scared of growing closer to Jesus because that means we have to accept reality. We have to touch Jesus’ wounds - as he asks the disciples to do - which means we have to touch our own. We have to come to terms with our pain and suffering and that of others. Embracing new life during the Paschal Mystery - the passion, death, and Resurrection of Jesus Christ - is entering into that confusing place where new life is both a beautiful gift and an acknowledgement of the pain it took to get there.
It can feel safer to not touch Jesus’ wounds and “stay in the shadows” and “somewhat distant,” as Pope Francis says. Yet when you stay somewhat distant new life is not as rich or fully realized or experienced. The same happens when you head straight into the resurrection and celebrate new life without sitting with the pain of Good Friday or the emptiness of Holy Saturday. The more we are honest about our sufferings - whether from this past year or other times - the more we can move through and realize a profound joy in the resurrected Christ.
The whole point of the story of touching the wounds is to understand that God is with us through the darkest, most painful of times. Even when our human minds cannot comprehend, our hearts hold that reality. Hope is not for some moment in the future when all will be well; hope is resting in the faith that our infinitely merciful and powerful God is present in the now. Yet, we are human and it is difficult to not attach hope to external events and developments.
Suffering and New Life
Today, as I celebrate Easter, I will hold the suffering and new life in both hands. I grieve for the loss this country has experienced while at the same time celebrating new life in the growth I’ve found within myself and witnessed in others. I will celebrate the hope I find in God’s grace - in the form of family, friends, and the Retreat, Reflect, Renew community, especially the Sacred Circle sessions experienced throughout the pandemic. Meanwhile, I will continue to listen for what new life means for me now, knowing my awareness continues to grow and unfold in unexpected, yet fruitful ways.
May you listen for the new life within you. May your journey into the light of the resurrected Christ be a fruitful one held in the merciful arms of God. Happy Easter.
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In what ways are you celebrating new life?