I can really relate to the disciples in this passage. It was a very disorienting time for them. Their leader and friend had been crucified, and then he rose from the dead and began to appear to them. Their own lives were also at risk for being followers of Jesus. What an intense time! So, what do they do? They retreat to what is familiar. Many of them, fishermen by trade, go back to the sea, a comforting, familiar, predictable environment. I do this too when things in my life are crazy or just hard to process: I go back to things that are familiar or grounding. I go for a run, I bake, or in really intense times I retreat to my parents’ house.
Exactly a week ago we celebrated the Last Supper and the institution of the Eucharist. Since then we have experienced the entire paschal mystery and Jesus’ passion, death and resurrection. What a paradox it all is. In three days we remember the most sorrowful event in history and the events that followed, but because of this sorrow, we celebrate the most glorious event. The Christian life is full of these paradoxes. Jesus is an expert at turning the moments of our life filled with the most grief and suffering into moments of the greatest joy.
“[H]e was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.” Jesus walks with these two men, talks with them, breaks open the scriptures, and yet, they do not recognize him until the breaking of the bread. I often have this experience at mass, even when it’s in a language I understand. I try to be present to the readings, the prayers, the songs, but at times I get lost in my head, or I get distracted by a cute baby a few rows ahead, or, more likely, I’m trying to manage my own children. I can sometimes forget why I’m even there.
After a few weeks, I finally brought this to God. What did I do wrong? Why didn’t you show up? In a time of prayer, I realized that He was there and that I was more united with him than I could have ever imagined.
After the women found the empty tomb, it says they were fearful yet overjoyed. Do you ever feel like that? Times were you just feel such an intense range of emotions and half seem to contradict the other. It reminds me of the morning of my wedding day. The day I had dreamed about, planned for and longed for had finally arrived. As I stood at the back of the church waiting to walk down the aisle I was hit with the weight of the commitment set before me and at the same time filled with the joyful anticipation of finally being one with the love of my life. My stomach was filled with butterflies and my hands were clamped tightly around my bouquet.
He is alive.
Today is the day, the feast of all feasts! The day we have been preparing for throughout Lent and Holy Week has come! Let us rejoice and sing with everything we’ve got: The Lord is alive!
Every year, I find it a bit hard to enter into the celebration of Easter. Usually, it comes after a Lent full of failed attempts to live more virtuously. I go into Lent with high hopes of making real changes in my life, and I try, but I never live up to my expectations. So Easter usually feels bittersweet for me. It’s the feast of all feasts; so, yes, I am filled with joy, but I also am filled with regret. Could I have done better? Did I waste the Lenten season? I didn’t prepare well enough—am I worthy enough to partake in the day's celebration?
I am days away from meeting my new baby, well I hope it’s just a few days. My due date is still over a week away, but somehow I’ve convinced myself that this baby is coming early. Every day for over a week now, I’ve been thinking, “today’s the day”. Yet, the day still has not yet come. This waiting game is hard and even harder to live in the present moment when you know something huge, like labour, could start at any moment. At the same time, this sense of urgency has served me well.
There are so many things that can contribute to creating “good soil” or a rich environment for our hearts, minds, and bodies to grow and flourish. I think we can sum up these things into three basic elements: Truth, Beauty, and Goodness. When we are surrounded by these things and allow ourselves to be affected by their transcendent qualities we can’t help but change and grow.