This will be my 70th Holy Week. Each one has been different, because each year I’m different. Each year I discover new meaning in the familiar readings and rituals.
This Lent my mind is on death. I attend more and more funerals these days. I can’t ignore the fact that my own departure date grows nearer. I keep thinking of St. Paul’s promise in 2 Timothy 2:11: “If we have died with him, we shall also live with him.” Death is inevitable, but eternal life is possible, if I remain faithful to my Christian commitment.
I wonder about that commitment, though. I wonder if I’m like the Mother Superior in “The Painted Veil,” who says, “I fell in love when I was 17 … with God. A foolish girl with romantic notions about the life of a religious, but my love was passionate. Over the years my feelings have changed. He’s disappointed me. Ignored me. We’ve settled into a life of peaceful indifference. The old husband and wife who sit side by side on the sofa, but rarely speak. He knows I’ll never leave Him. This is my duty. But when love and duty are one, then grace is within you.”
I want the passion; I want the grace. I think I want it even more than eternity. So I’m paying close attention this Lent to how Jesus dies.
If we die with him … I hear the urgency in Christ’s teaching. There are things his disciples need to understand if they are to carry on after his death. Are there things I need to say? Difficult conversations I’ve put off? Apologies I need to make?
If we die with him … I see Jesus draw his disciples closer. They have shared his risks and tried to share his vision. He needs the comfort of their presence and love. Do any of my relationships need mending? Do my loved ones realize how much I rely on them?
If we die with him … We began Lent with Jesus in the wilderness, struggling to understand God’s call. We end in the garden with Jesus struggling to accept the final sacrifice that call requires. I imagine Jesus sweating, arguing, pleading and weeping in the night mist until he finds the courage for the next step. How often do I take the time for such deep, prolonged conversation with God?
If we die with him … At their last supper together, Jesus feeds the disciples, prays with and for them and even humbly bathes their feet. He’s open and vulnerable even though he knows or suspects that one will betray, one will deny and more will run away. How honest and open am I with others? Can I forgive those who have hurt me or denied me the chance for reconciliation?
If we die with him … I’ve sat at deathbeds. I’ve seen the pain, breathing difficulties, spasms of fear and tears of regret. Dying can be exhausting and lonely. Will I be alone? Will my caregivers be patient and kind? Will my church remember me? Will I feel God’s love or his judgment?
If we die with him … I remember childbirth and the moments of panic, when I thought, “I can’t do this.” I especially remember how powerless I felt. I could only trust that I would come through, and all would be well. Dying will probably feel much the same, and again I’ll need to trust. It’s hard, however, to trust someone you barely know. If I want to live eternally, I must die with Christ. However, to die with Christ, I must live closely with him today and every day I have left. Happy Easter.
Kathleen welcomes comments. Send them to Kathleen Choi, 1706 Waianuenue Ave., Hilo 96720, or email: kathchoi@hawaii.rr.com.
