[Based upon the reflection of Rev. Paul Scalia in “That Nothing May be Lost.”]
When the women went to the tomb of Jesus at daybreak, we know that they entered a garden. St. John mentions this in his last line of the Passion Narrative we heard on Good Friday. At first, it seems just an interesting but unimportant detail. But upon some reflection, we could say that as strange as it may sound, salvation history might be called, a story of gardens. And so it is appropriate that at Easter, we adorn our churches as if they were gardens.
In a garden we find order, beauty, and life. A garden is not wild, it has boundaries, a specific design; it is cultivated. A garden is also beautiful; everything about it is pleasing to the eye. A garden is also, of course, a place of life. Plants grow and bear fruit.
These are what God desired for us in the first garden, the Garden of Eden—order, beauty, and life. There was order and harmony in God’s creation and in humanity’s relationship with God. Beauty was found in the souls of Adam and Eve. There the Lord also bestowed life—unending life with God. These good things were lost through sin. The most tragic consequence is that sin brought death into the world—death replaced life.
Despite our sin, in love for us, God began a restoration, the work of redemption in a second garden—the Garden of Gethsemane where he would undo the rebellion of the Garden of Eden. There Jesus took upon himself all the disorder, ugliness and the death that sin brought into the world.
God continued this work in a third garden—the garden of his tomb—or better still, the Garden of his Resurrection. There he rose triumphant from the dead. I think that it is interesting that when Mary Magdalen first sees the Risen Lord, she mistakes him for the gardener. In a certain sense, he is. He is the divine Gardener, who restores to us—order, beauty and life.
But this is not the end because the Lord completes his work in a fourth garden—the garden of our soul. He enters our souls with his grace and works there to bring order—to heal the conflicts we experience; to bring beauty by ridding us of the ugliness of sin and brings life so that like him, we might live in newness of life.
Today the Risen Lord, the Divine Gardener desires to continue his work in the lives of the baptized. It is on Solemnity of Lord’s Resurrection that we renew our baptismal promises! Let us do so now that the order, beauty, and life that Christ brings will allow us to “appear with him in glory.” Amen! Alleluia!
How can we remain unmoved or indifferent to one who loves us to death? Jesus is scourged, crowned with thorns, mocked, derided, and beaten on his Via Dolorosa, to Calvary where he is stripped and crucified. “It was our infirmities that he bore...our sufferings that he endured, pierced for our offenses and crushed for our sins."
This is why this holy liturgy began in sacred silence, with the ministers prostrate on the floor and the faithful on their knees. We cannot remain unmoved by one who has loved us to his death.
In the historical novel, “Silence” by Shusako Endo, now a film, the persecuted 17th century Jesuits of Nagasaki and their Japanese converts were told that they could avoid crucifixion by stepping on an image of Jesus Crucified. Their tormentors say enticingly, “It is such a little thing to require.” Some converts agreed and became apostates. But those who become martyrs knew that the “little thing” was everything.
It is the absolute antithesis of what we shall do here today, as we venerate the holy cross. Today, the kiss with which we revere the Cross is a little thing but it is also everything. For those who follow the Lord, it is “everything” because we know, to borrow from Pope Benedict, that that “the one who looks down at us from the cross is not a failure, a desperate man, not one of the horrible victims of humanity.”
Our veneration is a silent but powerful profession of faith. It expresses our belief that Jesus Crucified is “God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God. We express our faith in and love for him who suffered, died and rose for me that I might have life—eternal life. And that is truly “everything.”
On Calvary, the Lord looked upon his most blessed mother, his beloved disciples, the courageous women but also upon his tormenters and even those who were indifferent. He looked down and spoke so that his cross became a pulpit.
Today let us look up, let us gaze upon the face of God and speak to him. Perhaps these words express what we hold in our hearts as we prepare to venerate his cross and then receive him sacramentally.
O Jesus, I pause thoughtfully at the foot of the cross.
Your goodness, which does not defend itself
and lets itself be crucified, is an overwhelming mystery
that moves me deeply.
Lord, you came into the world for me,
to seek me, to offer me the embrace of the Father,
the embrace that I need so much.
Because you are the face of goodness and mercy
you desire to save me.
Within me there is darkness,
come with your clear light.
Within me there is so much selfishness,
come with your boundless charity.
Within me, there is so much pride,
come with your remarkable humility.
Lord, I am the sinner to be saved.
I am the prodigal son who must return.
Lord grant me the gift of tears
so that I might find in you true freedom, life, peace and joy.
Amen.
[Prayer of Angelo Cardinal Comastri]
As we begin the Paschal Triduum, we are given a window into the intimacy of the Upper Room, the Cenacle, where the apostles gathered with Our Lord for the Passover. Isn’t it amazing that Our Lord would choose the very night that he would be betrayed, denied and abandoned to manifest his extraordinary love to his apostles? He would, as St. John tells us, “love them to the end.”
We are here because that extraordinary love was not confined to the Upper Room. The Lord’s love would be projected through time so that we would experience it. We are here because Jesus loved us “to the end” Christ manifested this love by bestowing upon us this night, three gifts!
The first is the Holy Eucharist. On this night, the Last Supper’s Passover table became the Christian altar at which Christ himself is received. During the Mass, at the words of consecration, simple bread and wine are changed into the Body, Blood, Soul and Divinity of Christ. Our senses perceive only bread and wine, but faith tells us that after the words of consecration, they cease to exist so that before us on the altar is not “something” but “Someone.” Through the Eucharist the Lord remains with us, becomes the food for our soul and our companion for life’s journey. Saint John Paul II asked, “What more could Jesus have done for us?” It is a gift so tremendous that we should never approach it casually or take it for granted.
The second gift—the Sacred Priesthood—is intimately united to the first. Just as the Church receives her life through the Holy Eucharist, the Priesthood was born, lives, works, and bears fruit through the Eucharist. When Our Lord commanded the apostles, the first priests, “Do this in memory of me,” he instituted the means by which the gift of the Eucharist would be bestowed through history to this every moment. A priest has the duty and unique privilege of acting “in persona Christi” repeating at Mass the gestures and words of Jesus at the Last Supper. This great miracle of love is renewed in his hands.
The saints understood the significance of the priesthood. St. Jean Vianney reminded his parishioners that “the priest holds the key to the treasures of heaven: it is he who opens the door: he is the steward of the good Lord.” St. John Chrysostom said, “God has not granted to angels the power with which he has invested priests.”
Yet, Bl. John Henry Cardinal Newman did not hesitate to remind his people that priests are “not angels, not saints, not sinless” but those who would have lived and died in their sin, except for God’s grace.” It would be naïve not admit that recent scandals have dealt serious blows to the priesthood and as Pope Benedict has noted, “has caused more than a few to call into question the very Faith of the Church.” [Statement of 10 April 2019]
Let this Holy Thursday, be an impetus to the re-building of trust to a renewed appreciation of the priestly vocation. As we undertake the work of healing that we need so badly, let us not allow dark clouds to obscure the beauty and dignity of this gift that Christ gave to his Church.
The key to that healing and renewal is found in the Lord’s third gift this night—his example of humility. In washing the feet of the apostles our Lord defines what every priest and indeed every disciple should be. Putting a towel about him, Jesus takes the role of a servant. He teaches that those who would act “in persona Christi” must also be the “Servus Christi,” the servant of Christ. A priest, a disciple must realize that true greatness lies not in worldly influence or the domination of others, but in humble service....to serve with love...to take the lowest place.
It is an attitude the world hardly comprehends. And yet, when we reflect on Holy Thursday, who can fully comprehend the unfathomable riches we have in Christ Jesus?