Thursday, you ate the Passover with Jesus. You sat around the table sharing the story of your people. You stood by helplessly as guards came out of nowhere and arrested him. You screamed at the injustice of the courts, and winced with Mary as he was beaten mercilessly.
Then, yesterday, you watched him struggle under the cross. You saw them murder your best friend, right in front of you, in the most painful way possible. You saw his mother scream in that guttural cry that can only come from a mother who has lost her child. You saw her kiss his lifeless feet, begging God to bring him back. You stared at the shrinking gap between the tomb wall and the huge rock, and felt your heart sink when the stone sealed off the last crack between you and him.
Now...you're scared. You're in the upper room, afraid to leave. You're locked in. They killed your leader gladly...they will think nothing of killing you too. Even further, you left your life behind for this man. You literally dropped everything to follow him. You thought he was the messiah. You thought he'd free the Jews from the Romans. You thought he would change things...did he lie? Were you wrong? Are you about to be murdered just like he was?
This is your darkest night. You feel blind, groping in the darkness begging to find something to hold onto. The others, whom you depended on so often, are just as lost as you are. Even his mother seemed at a loss, still in shock at the death of her only sun. Even outside the room, the skies are grey as though God himself were mourning. Your entire livelihood seemed to disappear like his body did as it was swallowed by the darkness of the sepulcher.
That's the only word you can think of to describe your situation - darkness. He said he would defeat death, only to be killed. He said he would forgive sins, only to be swallowed up by the sins of those around him. He preached about us being one, yet he died alone.
Your faith is shaken...but not destroyed. You still have hope. You remember him saying that he would be tortured and executed, only to rise again on the third day. At the time it seemed foolish and weird - here he was, doing nothing but helping people and teaching nonviolence, talking about how he would be hated, beaten and killed. You were able to disregard it, but now...
So you hold on to that hope of the third day. You wait in darkness, and you wait in silence. You wait throughout the night, hoping to somehow see him again...to know that he was right...to know that he was the victory he promised.
This is that night. This is that waiting. The whole world is waiting in silence - not just the world of long ago but the world tonight, in 2013. Every eye is peeled, searching in the darkness for that light of Christ. Every heart is open, waiting for Jesus.
A while ago, I wrote about the realities of darkness and light. I'd encourage you to check it out again, especially if you are going to the Vigil tonight.
If you are, or have in the past, I'm going to call your attention to one of the first things that happens. The one light from the new Paschal candle has now spread to every corner of the church. We stand together, visible only by the light of hundreds of tiny flames. Little by little, the darkness has been banished, all from that one flame of Christ. Then, the deacon gives what is known as the Exsultet - the Easter Proclamation. I was initially going to share the whole thing with you, but the formatting made it really long. If you'd still like to read the whole thing (and I'd strongly encourage you to) you can check it out here. Rather, I'd just like to show you a few passages that always stand out for me.
This is the night when the pillar of fire destroyed the darkness of sin!
That line is powerful enough on its own...but at Mass you hear it as a literal pillar of fire has dispelled the darkness of the building. Jesus forgives our sins, yes...but he does more than that. He destroys sin.
This is the night when Jesus Christ broke the chains of death and rose triumphant from the grave.
As you hear these, picture it. Those awful chains that drag us down are broken. Jesus took all of our sins upon his shoulders and then, dying, "he descended into hell". He took our sins to the place of death and they died. Jesus killed our sins. He broke our chains.
The power of this holy night dispels all evil, washes guilt away, restores lost innocence, brings mourners joy; it casts out hatred, brings us peace, and humbles earthly pride.
In Revelation, the Lamb says "Behold, I make all things new." Tonight is that night. By dying on the cross, Jesus did so much for us that we really don't even see. He killed sin. He conquered evil forever. He banished demons to hell. He forgave our sins. He made the whole earth and heaven new. He can make you new, if you let him.
This is the power behind every Mass. Whether it's said at St. Peters in front of a hundred thousand, or in the small chapel for five, the reality of that redemption is there, physically and fully. Tonight, we realize that power in a more focused way. Jesus rises from the grave. Our sin is killed all over again.
Tonight, the world waits in silence. Tonight, the flames of love banish the darkness of sin and death forever. Tonight, our chains are broken. Tonight, death itself dies. Tonight, we remember what Jesus did for us two thousand years ago that he continues doing every single day. We remember when a carpenter from Nazareth did the impossible.
His love for us is what saved us. His sacrifice on the cross is what destroyed death forever, and his rising from the grave is what gives us life.
One thing made him do it all - love.
Love conquers all.
No comments:
Post a Comment