Paschal Tears: Homily I Gave at the Opening of Glenmary's 2014 General Assembly

I served the Lord with all humility and with tears...

 

For Paul the tears must have fallen often.  Recalling his past mistakes in life they fell.  Mistakes that made him murder and persecute the very thing he would come to love.  Traveling with no clear directions; locked in prisons and in houses and in his mind they fell.  In a struggle for the Gentiles they fell.  They fell from being misunderstood by his own people: being shipwrecked and homesick and heartbroken.  Angry at those foolish Galatians and those capricious Corinthians they fell.  And let us not forget those false prophets, drunken believers and gluttonous converts, so they fell.  Wrestling with his thorn: that prickly reminder of his own weakness; that prickly reminder of his savior’s shameful walk to Calvary, they fell. 

 

 

 

 

 

But it was not only in sadness and anger that they fell.  It was also in joy.  They fell for the faith of the Thessalonians whose fame was known throughout the faithful.  They fell for the slave Onesimus who now owned his own fate.  They fell for converted hearts towards the cause of the gentiles.  And for generous hearts that helped the poor in other churches.  They fell from inspired songs and intense theology.  They fell for faith, hope and love: these theological virtues that defined his destiny.  They fell for the thousands of converts to the faith who would transform the known world.  For in good times and in bad these tears continued to fall.

 

 

 

St. Charles Lwanga must have had a few tears fall, too.  They fell when his leader Mkasa was slain.  They fell when countless believers were defiled by the king.  When he could not protect those whom he loved, they fell.  When the newly baptized were carted off on a 37 mile trek to their own death, they fell.  But it was not just tears of sadness; there were tears of joy.  Tears of faith that had the power to persevere.  Tears of joy to walk that lonely road as Christ did.  Tears that spilt blood would be the seeds of faith for countless generations.  And so they fell.  They fell all the way to his own death, too.  They fell but the fire could not quench them.

 

 

We Glenmarians are really no different than those witnesses that have gone before us.  For us, too, the tears have fallen often.  They fell when a founder searched for support and was only laughed at and disregarded.  They fell from nights pondering the immense no priest land and wondering if God would be faithful.  They fell when converts were not so easy to make.  When a founder died far too early.  When a mass exodus like a gushing artery could not be stopped.  They fell when the land was desecrated and the poor disregarded.  They fell when vocations were in short supply and the future was not so certain.  They fell with aging, with debt, and death and with incarceration and with fewer and fewer missions.  But it was not just in sadness that they fell.  It was also in joy.

 

They fell when a community was established.  When a seminary was built.  They fell when the community burst at the seams with members and nothing could stop us.  They fell when churches were built across the nation, blacks came to believe, Hispanics returned to the faith, locals cast aside suspicions and the poor were rescued.  They fell for us in both good times and in bad times, too.

 

 

You see, I think the tears have to fall.  For the tears are the Pascal mystery.  For Paul they had to fall that he might realize that his own power was perfected in Christ.  That only when he was weak was he strong.  They had to fall so that he might stop living for himself and live for others.  So that he could confidently say “I consider life of no importance to me, if only I may finish my course and the ministry that I received from the Lord Jesus, to bear witness to the Gospel of God’s grace.”  And so they had to fall. 

 

 

 

And they had to fall for St. Charles and his companions, too, these tears of the Pascal Mystery.  They had to fall so that countless future generations would embrace the faith. So that Christianity in the Global South would raise up the falling faith of the Global North.  They had to fall so that discrimination would be destroyed, tyranny would be defeated and persecution would be paralyzed.   They had to fall so that the seeds of faith might be sown for future generations.  They had to fall.

 

 

And they had to fall for us, Glenmarians too, these tears of the Pascal Mystery.  Fall so that we might let go.  Let go of what we thought Glenmary should be and embrace what God wanted it to be.  Let go of control so that we hand it over to the one truly in control.  They had to fall so that we might be able to say with Paul that our lives alone, and our life as a society, are of no importance to us, if only we may finish the course and the ministry we have received from the Lord Jesus, to bear witness to the Gospel of God’s grace.    They had to fall.  And they still have to fall.  These tears of the Pascal Mystery.

 

But with tears falling where do we go from here?  Where do our tears fall on that road map to life?  Like Paul and Charles, as with Jesus before them, we know we have only one place where we can go:  We go to Jerusalem.  We go to face our own Pascal Mystery.  With dignity we arise together and we walk.  We walk hand in hand to meet whatever God might have for us.  We walk that 37 mile trek.  With Pascal tear blurred eyes we stare down Jerusalem.  We contemplate Jerusalem.  We ponder Jerusalem.  We see Jerusalem as our Paschal end and we move towards it.  The end of an assignment, the end of a friendship, the end of a calling, the end of a life, the end of a community.   The Pascal end.  With honesty and sincerity and united together in the Spirit we move towards Jerusalem.   

 

 

But we know that just with Paul and with Charles and especially with Jesus that what might seem like an end is not really an end at all.  For we and they and all of the cosmos are shrouded in the resurrection.  When that tomb was closed and that body lay bloodied and bruised and dead, and dead, and lifeless as a frozen cadaver it was not the end.  For in Christ it is never the end.  In Christ Jerusalem is always the beginning. 

 

 

So for us, what might appear to be the end may not be the end.  As we approach this Jerusalem we don’t know what to expect.  But we stare down that end. We contemplate that end.  With eyes filled with Pascal tears, tears falling and hearts falling, we walk towards that end.  For the end might truly be the beginning.