Happy Easter?
This year may be the year when, personally, "Happy Easter" comes with a question mark (?) rather than the traditional exclamation point (!).
As some of you know, our eldest son died recently. He had a massive stroke in the latter part of Advent. From that point, all through Christmas week, we trekked to the Intensive Care Unit to spend our days with him as he lay in a medically induced coma. This otherwise healthy young man was suddenly, without warning, felled. After performing emergency surgery, the doctors held out little hope for recovery. Our son fought for 18 days before he died as the New Year began, despite our prayers for a miracle.
His death left his young wife and almost two-year-old daughter, his brothers, and, of course, his parents, in a state of shock and grief. Those of you who have lived through the death of a precious loved one know that the days after the death, wake, and funeral don't get any easier. If anything, they're harder.
And so, day after day, sometimes minute by minute, the thought of what happened to our son fills my thoughts and directs my emotions. I've spoken to my wife about this, less so to our other adult children, even less to our son's widow and our granddaughter. But as far as I can tell, all of us are struggling.
When Lent arrived, that struggle was well under way. How appropriate! If you take it seriously, Lent normally calls for a special degree of struggle. We undertake special acts of prayer, penance, and almsgiving. They help us make reparation for our sins. Besides reparation, our fasting and other acts of self-denial also help strengthen us to face the daily struggle between good and evil which accompanies us throughout our lives. This past Lent, we added to this our struggle to understand why God would permit the unfathomable evil that befell our son and his loving family.
Have any of our family been thus strengthened by our Lenten discipline? I can only answer for myself. Yes - or at least I think so. Here's why I say "think so."
Studying my Catholic religion, and reading good spiritual works, we learn that our efforts may not produce palpable results. We pray, we fast, we mortify ourselves, but we may not feel any different when all is said and done. We may not notice any improvement in our behavior. It can seem like we're exactly as we were before. And yet we're taught that it is our efforts that matter, not any results. It seems Our Lord takes notice of our sincere attempts to be better. At least that's my understanding.
So, for example, when we make sincere, special efforts of prayer, penance, and almsgiving throughout Lent, we may or may not notice any improvement in our spiritual life. We still struggle with temptation, slip and fall into sin, treat others uncharitably at times, focus all too much on ourselves - making more money, our personal comfort, professional recognition and success, and all the rest of those worldly pursuits that occupy so much of our time. And yet, somewhere deep in our souls, the meter was moved slightly from the left to the right, from the bad to the good. Even if only half and inch, nevertheless it moved.
What matters is simply that we continue continue to strive to be better. Neither our neighbor nor ourselves may see the difference. It doesn't matter. God will be our judge.
Thus, when Easter arrived this year, I've made no attempt to weigh the effect of my Lenten discipline. I know whether my efforts were serious or half-hearted. And when they were serious, I know whether and when I offered them sincerely to Our Lord on His Cross. Whether any special or particular feelings accompanied those efforts was entirely beside the point. The only thing that mattered was the will to make the effort.
As I've learned more and more about my Catholic religion, I've understood that "Happy Easter" doesn't have to be accompanied by any special or particular feelings either. The "Happy" refers to the astounding reality of Our Lord's Resurrection. Some years "Happy" included a particularly beautiful liturgy, one with traditional music performed by skilled singers and musicians. Or it could include a festive family gathering, with lots of love and great food and drink. When I was a kid, it would always include a big chocolate bunny.
This year, it will include some of the above. It will also include memories of our son, both happy and sad.
In the end, though, all that will really matter is the Resurrection of Our Lord. His Resurrection has helped us bear the terrible sickness and death of our son. The Resurrection will help us cope with his absence from our family during our Easter celebrations. And His Resurrection brings the promise that we may, with the help of His grace, some day be once more united with our dearest son in eternal happiness in Heaven.
So now it seems to make sense to replace that question mark (?) with the traditional exclamation point (!). And so I shall:
As some of you know, our eldest son died recently. He had a massive stroke in the latter part of Advent. From that point, all through Christmas week, we trekked to the Intensive Care Unit to spend our days with him as he lay in a medically induced coma. This otherwise healthy young man was suddenly, without warning, felled. After performing emergency surgery, the doctors held out little hope for recovery. Our son fought for 18 days before he died as the New Year began, despite our prayers for a miracle.
His death left his young wife and almost two-year-old daughter, his brothers, and, of course, his parents, in a state of shock and grief. Those of you who have lived through the death of a precious loved one know that the days after the death, wake, and funeral don't get any easier. If anything, they're harder.
And so, day after day, sometimes minute by minute, the thought of what happened to our son fills my thoughts and directs my emotions. I've spoken to my wife about this, less so to our other adult children, even less to our son's widow and our granddaughter. But as far as I can tell, all of us are struggling.
When Lent arrived, that struggle was well under way. How appropriate! If you take it seriously, Lent normally calls for a special degree of struggle. We undertake special acts of prayer, penance, and almsgiving. They help us make reparation for our sins. Besides reparation, our fasting and other acts of self-denial also help strengthen us to face the daily struggle between good and evil which accompanies us throughout our lives. This past Lent, we added to this our struggle to understand why God would permit the unfathomable evil that befell our son and his loving family.
Have any of our family been thus strengthened by our Lenten discipline? I can only answer for myself. Yes - or at least I think so. Here's why I say "think so."
Studying my Catholic religion, and reading good spiritual works, we learn that our efforts may not produce palpable results. We pray, we fast, we mortify ourselves, but we may not feel any different when all is said and done. We may not notice any improvement in our behavior. It can seem like we're exactly as we were before. And yet we're taught that it is our efforts that matter, not any results. It seems Our Lord takes notice of our sincere attempts to be better. At least that's my understanding.
So, for example, when we make sincere, special efforts of prayer, penance, and almsgiving throughout Lent, we may or may not notice any improvement in our spiritual life. We still struggle with temptation, slip and fall into sin, treat others uncharitably at times, focus all too much on ourselves - making more money, our personal comfort, professional recognition and success, and all the rest of those worldly pursuits that occupy so much of our time. And yet, somewhere deep in our souls, the meter was moved slightly from the left to the right, from the bad to the good. Even if only half and inch, nevertheless it moved.
What matters is simply that we continue continue to strive to be better. Neither our neighbor nor ourselves may see the difference. It doesn't matter. God will be our judge.
Thus, when Easter arrived this year, I've made no attempt to weigh the effect of my Lenten discipline. I know whether my efforts were serious or half-hearted. And when they were serious, I know whether and when I offered them sincerely to Our Lord on His Cross. Whether any special or particular feelings accompanied those efforts was entirely beside the point. The only thing that mattered was the will to make the effort.
As I've learned more and more about my Catholic religion, I've understood that "Happy Easter" doesn't have to be accompanied by any special or particular feelings either. The "Happy" refers to the astounding reality of Our Lord's Resurrection. Some years "Happy" included a particularly beautiful liturgy, one with traditional music performed by skilled singers and musicians. Or it could include a festive family gathering, with lots of love and great food and drink. When I was a kid, it would always include a big chocolate bunny.
This year, it will include some of the above. It will also include memories of our son, both happy and sad.
In the end, though, all that will really matter is the Resurrection of Our Lord. His Resurrection has helped us bear the terrible sickness and death of our son. The Resurrection will help us cope with his absence from our family during our Easter celebrations. And His Resurrection brings the promise that we may, with the help of His grace, some day be once more united with our dearest son in eternal happiness in Heaven.
So now it seems to make sense to replace that question mark (?) with the traditional exclamation point (!). And so I shall:
Happy Easter!
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