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catholicnewsherald.com | May 13, 2022 CATHOLIC NEWS HERALD
He is risen. Now what? We get busy loving those neighbors who are wounded, those lonely and forlorn, those hungry and devoid of guidance, those who have adopted the rationalism that oppresses the soul and dominates our culture.
April Parker
Everyday life can reveal the glory of the Risen Lord, too
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Fred Gallagher
He is risen … Now what?
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here are often letdowns after we make it to the other side of a holiday. Some feel a little lost after Christmas Day, for instance. Those grieving the loss of a loved one do their best to hold it together, but then once the holiday passes, the loneliness and depression can set in. It is a common dynamic. And so, with the roller coaster of emotion that Holy Week brings us, and the liturgical culmination coming with the joy of Easter Sunday, our spirits can be left wanting. How do you follow the most important day in human history, the day Jesus rose from the dead? Now what? Going to scriptural accounts of the events immediately following the Resurrection may be one way to keep in touch with the energy of Easter. We remember that Jesus came to us again. He appeared first to Mary Magdalene, a woman out of whom He had driven demons, a woman who followed Jesus loyally and with great love. At the tomb she didn’t know Him at first, but then He said her name and she knew it was her risen Lord. Who among us has failed to recognize our Savior when He was appearing to us in the guise of someone in need? In 1982 the city of Beirut was being bombed. The staff of an orphanage for children who were severely mentally and physically challenged had fled, and the children were abandoned. When the dilemma came to Mother Teresa’s attention, she came to Beirut. She expressed to officials her desire to go behind the lines and get the children out but was assured it was impossible; only a ceasefire could save them. Mother Teresa let everyone know she was praying for just that. And in a complete surprise to many, the next morning Beirut was suddenly quiet, a ceasefire in place. Mother Teresa got to the orphanage and, as she embraced the first child, she exclaimed with a great, wide smile, “I have found Him! I have found Jesus!” When Mother Teresa embraced the child, as when Mary Magdalene heard her name, she recognized the Savior. Perhaps that is part of our postResurrection activity – finding Jesus in a family member, a friend, a co-worker, a stranger. Another appearance of Jesus after the Resurrection was to the two grieving disciples on the road to Emmaus. They were saddened by recent events but asked their companion to join them for a meal. It was then, in the breaking of the bread, that
they recognized Jesus. The Emmaus Road that is the unfurling of our daily life leads to the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. We come to know Christ, to share in His life, in the Eucharist. In weekday or vigil or Sunday Masses, we come to know Him. When hospitalized or homebound, the ill and burdened come to know Him in the Eucharist. He appears to us if our eyes and ears and hearts remain open. Jesus had appeared to some of the apostles but not to all of them together until Thomas was present – Thomas, the great symbol of our human nature, of the human mind and heart given to doubt, falling to the limits of reason. Jesus’ solution for His doubting disciple was to offer up His wounds to be touched. When Thomas did so, he uttered a phrase that means the world to me. During a Bible study years ago, two older ladies in the class shared the tradition of saying Thomas’ very words as the host and the chalice are raised during the Consecration: “My Lord and my God!” I took to saying it myself and have been doing so for many years now. The Resurrection is alive when we touch the wounds of a fellow traveler. If hands are reaching out to those suffering, we see Jesus perhaps in ways we had not before. He is risen. Now what? I will listen for my name. I’ll know it when I hear it, and then I will try to speak to others about feeling His presence. Now what? We all walk our daily roads with those we love and, every now and then, we are joined by someone special who ultimately, as we come to know each other, makes a real difference. And we know that in that engagement is the presence of God. We go to Mass, and we are fed. He is risen. Now what? We get busy loving those neighbors who are wounded, those lonely and forlorn, those hungry and devoid of guidance, those who have adopted the rationalism that oppresses the soul and dominates our culture. We figure out how to translate the touching of Christ’s wounds and apply the action to a current situation. It may mean just listening to someone. Most people, especially the wounded, just want to be heard. So we listen. We let the better angels of our nature take charge. Now what? We say, over and over and over throughout our days and nights encountering His presence, “My Lord and my God!” FRED GALLAGHER is an author and editor-in-chief with Gastoniabased Good Will Publishers Inc.
n the season of Easter we are caught up in a rapture of brilliance, a spiral of vibrant color and newness of life. We delight in heralding, “Christ is Risen! Hallelujah!” Somehow, life is happier and refreshed. Yet, over time, as we wind our way back to ordinary time, some of that newness wears off. The ordinary of everyday life creeps back in. The hidden parts of our life that are gray or black start to stick out among the fading color. Perhaps we have been dealing with a longterm illness or other weights that pull on our lives, such as infertility or divorce, the loss of a loved one, debt or job loss. We remember back to our jubilation at Easter and think: If Christ is master of even death, then why, after countless hours of prayer, am I still dealing with this burden? If Jesus were here beside me, would He touch me and heal me? Would He bring the lost back to life? Would He make it all new again? What did I do to suffer so much? In John 9, Jesus and His disciples came upon a man blind from birth. The disciples asked, “Teacher, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus gently and simply answered, “It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be made manifest in him” (Jn 9:1-5). We see this same truth played out again and again. Look at the countless stories of infertility down through the generations from Abraham to Zechariah that eventually brought forth a holy nation as numerous as the stars. In our own lives, what if the inability to have children leads one couple to adopt a small child into a Christian home who would have otherwise not known Christ? What if that child grows up to be a Catholic priest? Now, think about Ruth, the Moabite, who followed her motherin-law Naomi back to Bethlehem in the land of Judah. Ruth experienced great loss even before completely pulling up stakes in her home of Moab. Her husband, father-in-law and brother-in-law died in battle, leaving the women completely alone, unprotected and unprovided for. So Ruth clung to faith in one person, Naomi, who became a bridge builder for her to come to know God – and ultimately for His glory to be revealed through her. Ruth told Naomi, “Where you go I will go, and where you lodge I will lodge, your people shall be my people, and your God my God” (Ruth 1:16). In Bethlehem, they had a very poor existence, to the point that Ruth went to glean leftover grain in the fields to feed them both. But it was there that she caught the eye of Boaz, a wealthy and respected landowner, and God’s glory began to be manifest. They married, and their great-grandson was King David, in whose line Jesus was born. If you, too, have lost someone dear to you, it is not so much a door closed as a new door opening for you to invite someone else into your life who may need you. Could you be a bridge builder to God’s glory, as were both Ruth and Naomi? Another example of God’s glory being revealed through death can be found in “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” by C.S. Lewis. In it, Aslan the lion acts as Christ by giving himself freely over to death at the hand of the White Witch to save the life of another. The stone table, on which the lion was sacrificed, then cracks and Aslan reappears in all his shining glory, romping around with such newness and vigor that no one can keep up with him. He bounds to the witch’s castle and frees those who had been turned to stone. God is at work in you even through loss, illness and strife. His glory is close at hand. Continue to allow the joy of Easter to pulsate through your life. Give yourself over to it and let God’s glory be revealed and fulfilled. In his book “Spiritual Warfare,” Dan Burke encourages all Christians to pray “God, open the gate of the path that I am to go for your glory.” This has become a prayer I say several times daily, and I cannot believe the doors that open, directing me down the path God has prepared for me in order to serve His ultimate purpose. APRIL PARKER is a teacher and curriculum director at St. Pius X Parish in Greensboro.
