As some of
you may know, I went to the seminary twice, first in California, and
again here in Edmonton. What I am about
to share is not something I’ve shared with many people, but I think the joy of
this Night warrants its telling, a story of how I experienced my own ‘Good
Friday’ and, eventually, a ‘Resurrection.’
My first round of seminary training
was anything but pleasant—in fact, it soon plunged me into deep grief. Why this was isn’t important, but the
darkness was such that I even descended to the point where not even books,
coffee, and sunshine brought me any joy.
As I was packing up after two years of formation, a seminary
professor—who, in fact, happens to be a friend of B.—Sr Sharon
McMillan--intercepted me in the hallway, pointed her finger at me, and said
simply and serenely: “You will be
back.” The grief was compounded by the
fact that I was baptised, confirmed, and shared in Holy Communion precisely
because I wanted a priest, and it seemed like my whole world was collapsing.
But it had to happen. My attitude in the seminary was one of presumptuousness: “No matter how badly I perform, I’m going to
get ordained because God wills it anyway!”
Big, big mistake. So, the ambition
had to die. Out of that death, however,
arose a more authentic vocation, because I had to ‘let go’ of my plans, my
future. That was in 2005.
Fast forward to 2009, when I was
surprisingly invited by the Archbishop to reenter seminary here in
Edmonton. But, as part of the process
for all candidates, I had to go through extensive personality
assessments and psychological evaluations, and for this I was sent to a Catholic house where these sorts of things were done. Truth be told, I was annoyed I even had to
go. I already explained the whole story
a thousand times, and to tell it one more time was just too much, but I
did. That week just so
happened to be Easter Week of 2010.
One day while I was there, I went into
the chapel to pray the Office, and in the middle of the Old Testament Canticle
where we repeat, “…bless the Lord / praise and highly exalt him for ever,” I
suddenly sensed deep in my heart something different and new. Even though my grief was long gone, I felt as
though the heaviness of the memories was lifted, and I was able to let go of
the past. At that moment, I had a
personal experience of the Resurrection and the joy of the Risen Christ who
destroys death and bestows life; I experienced Easter. At that moment I noticed, in that small
chapel, the overwhelming fragrance of the Easter lilies, and knew that life
would never again be the same, because everything that once weighed me down
yielded to the Lordship of the exalted Jesus.
At that name every knee must bend,
Every knee should bow and bend
low,
How great is that name, great is
that name,
All creatures of earth and
heaven praise Him!
The
Resurrection of the Lord Jesus is not merely a past event, over and gone. Rather, it is a present reality by which the
very fabric of the cosmos was re-engineered in such a way that, now, human
history is irrevocably and inexorably headed toward glory. Nor is it something provisional, something we
need to wait for until after we die, and reminded of it only at funerals. No!
Easter, because Christ has destroyed not only death but everything that
is deathly, gives us reason for joy.
“Joy,” not optimism! Optimism is
wishing that everything will turn out for the better; joy means knowing,
with every fibre of our baptized being, that our good is inevitable, and it
arises out of the experience of the Risen Lord.
This
is especially clear in the gospel reading we’ve just heard. The Holy Myrrhbearing Women—whose icon are on
the top of the Paschal Candle—went to the tomb, no doubt filled with grief,
only to discover that the Crucified is now Risen, but at that point, the Risen
Lord was only an idea: “He has been
raised up; He is not here.” Moments
later, the Women were told that the idea of the Risen Lord would give way to
experience: “He is going ahead of you to
Galilee, where you will see Him just as He told you.” At the end of verse 8, Mark’s gospel ends
abruptly.
Where’s
the rest of the story? Listen again how
St Mark ends: “They…fled from the tomb
bewildered and trembling; and because of their great fear, they said nothing to
anyone.” It’s an unsettling
conclusion to what’s supposed to be the Greatest Story Ever Told.
Every
tongue acclaim: Christ is Lord!
Jesus Christ is Lord ever more!
For Jesus is Lord, Jesus is
Lord,
The glory of God the Father!
Where’s the
rest of the story? You and me. We are the rest of the story, we pick up
where Mark’s gospel ended, because Easter continues to be written in the lives
of every person who has experienced the Lordly Resurrection of Jesus.
Life is not easy. God has not promised us all apple trees and
cherry blossoms. But God has promised to
accompany us, and this God did in the Son when He took upon himself our human
nature at Christmas and transformed human nature at Easter; in baptism, we are
joined to Jesus Christ and, in confirmation, we are given an overflow of His
own anointing by the Holy Spirit. In
this way, whatever happens to us—for good or ill—multiplies into new chapters
of the gospel narrative. In this way,
the Lordship of Jesus is extended: His
Resurrection becomes our many resurrections, and together everything is
transfigured.
At
that name every knee must bend,
Every knee should bow and bend
low,
How great is that name, great is
that name,
All creatures of earth and
heaven praise Him!
Every
tongue acclaim: Christ is Lord!
Jesus Christ is Lord ever more!
For Jesus is Lord, Jesus is
Lord,
The glory of God the Father!
Let us return for a moment to when the
Archbishop [of Edmonton] invited me to resume seminary training here in Edmonton. While we were speaking about my past griefs,
I found myself saying this: “Your
Grace: If I could go back in time and
erase that dark chapter from my past in hopes of increasing my chances of
entering the priesthood, I would not. It
has given me a heart to be ready to support others who are in grief.”
My
friends, Easter, if we let it, is contagious.
The joy that comes from experiencing the Risen Lord is infectious. As we heard St Paul remind us tonight, “…just
as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might
live in newness of life.” The
newness of being baptized into the Risen One is a perennial newness, a permanent
newness that never grows old or fades away.
We will see the beginnings of this when A. is baptised fifty days
from now.
Tonight
is an invitation for us to rediscover what Easter can do for you and me, and
together, what it can do for the world.
Let us, then, with the help of the saints process to the font and ask
the Lord to continue Mark’s gospel narrative of the Resurrection in our lives
by our renewal of baptismal discipleship.
This post is dedicated to the honour
of Sr Sharon McMillan SNDdeN SDL,
who was my Professor of Liturgy
at St Patrick's Seminary & University
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