Easter Sunday

There is a most profound question that is raised on Easter Morning.  It is posed by two men in dazzling garments who appear in a tomb, a burial chamber, to people who have come to verify the presence of a corpse.  The shock must have been incredible and the question more than compelling.  They asked, "Why do you seek the living one among the dead?"  This remains as intriguing now as it was two thousand years ago.  There is an empty tomb where we expected an abomination.  There are angels when we anticipated the horrific.  There is new life where we foresaw death.

We are called out of bondage on Easter.  We are called out of our narrow thinking and limited perspective into a new dimension of understanding.  It transcends the boundaries of religion, government and ideas about ourselves.  We are called to a new life without the comfort of "black and white" even to the extent that death is no longer death.  Earthbound eyes can no longer be fully trusted.  The spiritual experience is no longer separate or something that happens outside of us.  We don't have to wait for an apocalypse to find salvation.  The salvation has already been given freely to one and to all.  The kingdom and Easter are within each of us right here...right now.

Sacrifice

Boys Image Reflected in The VietNam Memorial

Self sacrifice is a miracle in action. There are times when our world seems to be driven by greed and selfishness. One of the most powerful things to experience is a personal observation or the story of one who freely gives for the sake of others. Such deeds actually are not in short supply. One such account was recently transmitted by National Public Radio.

Joe, a school custodian, was an Army Ranger during the first Gulf War. He rushed in to save a friend who was hit by a mortar and stepped on a concussive charge which resulted in several serious injuries that ended Joe’s Army career. His friend had been killed before Joe could even get to him.

As a result of his head injury, Joe also lost his fiancée, his excellent social skills, and the life he assumed he would live. Now he works nights, emptying the school garbage and trimming the shrubbery every now and then while his dog waits in the car. When asked if he wishes things were different, Joe still says, “Yeah, I wish I could have saved Brian. I would have gladly died for him.”

Self-sacrifice is the act of deliberately following a course of action that has a high risk or certainty of suffering. It often entails personal loss or death which could otherwise be avoided in order to achieve a benefit for others. It is a powerful theme that says “There is something I want more than life itself. There is something more important.” I am reminded of the Oskar Schindler story.

The movie Schindler’s List told us about the life and times of Oskar Schindler. He was a very wealthy socialite and businessman in Germany prior to World War II. The plight of Jewish victims of the Nazis compelled him to change. He continually risked his life to protect and save his Jewish workers. He desperately spent every penny he had bribing and paying off the Nazis to get food and better treatment for them. Finally, more than 1200 people were saved. When asked why he made the sacrifice that he did, Schindler replied, “I just couldn't stand by and see people destroyed. I did what I could, what I had to do, what my conscience told me I must do. That's all there is to it. Really, nothing more." Schindler never recovered financially but was mourned on four continents when he died. He is revered as a beloved hero to this day.

Ralph Waldo Emerson said “Sacrifice is the miracle that makes great things possible.” We are sanctifying our actions when we make sacrifices. The drive to make a personal difference, whether by living a life of service or rising to the occasion when it becomes clear that someone must, is the essence of self-sacrifice. We trade the uncertainty of options for the certainty of gloom when we surrender to despair. Life isn't filled only with difficulty and pain. It is also filled with people whose dignity and spirit rise above their circumstances. There are situations when great sacrifice or love and wisdom turn a problem into an opportunity and strength. If we look at what has happened in our own lives and in those of others, we have ample reason to hope. This hope can change the world.

Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday, or Maundy Thursday, is one of the most sacred days of the year. It is filled with mystery, symbolism and confusion. The most compelling image to me is that of Jesus washing the feet of his friends. He expresses the fullness of his love by pouring water into a basin and assuming the role of a servant. Only days before he had experienced Mary washing his own feet with water and her tears. This self giving is not only offered as a gesture of compassion but is accompanied by the direction to follow his example. He asks us to live our lives in service to others.

I will never forget the profound and personal affect that a Holy Thursday washing of feet had for me. I was about 30 years old when my life-long best friend, Steve Magin, went with me to a service at St. Elizabeth Hospital Chapel in our home town. The mass was going to be offered by Father C. B. Motsett. Father Motsett had been a significant person in Steve’s life and important in mine as well. He was the parish priest at St. Paul's Church and principal at Schlarman High School in Danville, Illinois when we were youngsters. His kindness, encouragement, civic leadership and love of sports had provided important guidance. Father Motsett was in his late seventies, and semi-retired, when we attended the Holy Thursday Mass that year. We were both pleased to see him. He was very popular in our home town and the church was filled. The old man saw Steve and I sitting among the flock and came over to greet us prior to the service. What an honor! His words, however, were almost shattering. “Will you boys kindly allow me to wash your feet?” We nodded in numb acceptance of his invitation. The time came for the ceremony and 12 men walked up to the alter where chairs had been arranged. We each removed our shoes and socks. Father Motsett slowly and gently bathed each of us. I felt unworthy and was overcome by so many emotions. There was a deep sense of how Jesus’ disciples must have felt. Here was a great man kneeling in front of me, washing my feet. I wanted to raise him up and wash his feet just like Peter had implored in the gospel story. Then I felt a great sense of calm and peace. Father Motsett was teaching us again, just as he had when we were kids. He was demonstrating the importance of serving others with kindness and humility. None of us is greater than the other.

I have tried to live out the call of servant leadership. It is never easy. So many occasions seem to demand elevating myself to higher positions, to command others to react to my directions, and to take charge. It is much more difficult to just be a good example and allow others to join my efforts. Jesus asks us to follow him. He sends us people like Father Motsett to remind us. He wants us to kneel and provide relief to each others wounds.

Grief and Celebration

"I have always been alone, and I have never been alone.
What I used to call the self is a winnowing of light
in the flood plain of the boundless."
~ Margaret Gibson

Grief and Celebration are never far apart. We are guests at a wedding party and are swept over by a sudden sadness. An aspect of our life-long friendship with the groom is irreversibly changed now that he has given himself to his bride. We attend a funeral and there is a gathering at a restaurant afterwards where funny stories of the departed are traded among friends with drinks and toasts.

Palm Sunday is the beginning of Holy Week and, in a way, the end of Lent. It has always been interesting to me that all four gospels give us the image of God coming to us on a donkey. Here is celebration and grief in obvious coexistence. Christ is usually depicted as detached while the crowds of people are spreading palms in his path and shouting their greetings. He seems to be aware of both happiness and sadness. There is a peaceful acceptance here.

Our lives are often driven. We expect celebration and avoid grief. This is really impossible. The two are inseparable and we are called to the dance. Everything becomes more genuine, and our journey is enriched when we accept and embrace this reality.

The Expectation of Easter

Renewal and new beginnings are among the promises offered by Easter. The most compelling mystery of the season for many of us is the truth of unconditional love. This is a difficult proposition for us to understand because of our continual criticism of self and of others. Even thornier is the challenge that Jesus proposes to "be compassionate as your Father is compassionate". We are forgiven for our transgressions and we are called to forgive in the same measure. Our experience of love from other people has often been conditional and transitory. God's love is neither of these. It is a gift freely given for one and for all. No questions asked.

Henri Nouwen writes: "I am beginning now to see how radically the character of my spiritual journey will change when I no longer think of God as hiding out and making it as difficult as possible for me to find him, but, instead, as the one who is looking for me while I am doing the hiding. When I look through God's eyes at my lost self and discover God's joy at my coming home, then my life may become less anguished and more trusting." (From The Return of The Prodigal Son: A Story of Homecoming)

The spiritual path leads us to a place in which we find ourselves worthy of God's love. It allows us to begin to see ourselves as His beloved child, unblemished as the day we were born. Easter is a time of anticipation and expectation. Not just our anticipation and expectation. We are being anticipated and expected by the Father. He longs to see us coming to Him.