Hatred and rage had made those wounds, and now flowing forth invisibly were forgiveness, compassion, reconciliation and peace…
When I think of eternal life in terms of earthly imagery, I think of July, about mid-month. In our part of the world, at least, in a normal year, all growing things seem to be at their peak of lushness.
That was certainly the case this year in eastern Ontario. Ample rains and warm days practically guaranteed a fine harvest, and many of us were called upon to lend a hand in gathering same.
Although a lot of work goes into preparing, planting, weeding, and harvesting a garden, there is also something about it that is entirely a gift — that is, the life force itself is a gift.
As Jesus says in Mark’s gospel: This is how it is with the kingdom of God: it is as if a man were to scatter seed on the land and would sleep and would rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he knows not how. Of its own accord the land yields fruit, first the blade, then ear, then the full grain in the ear. And when the grain is ripe, he wields the sickle at once, for the harvest has come (Mk 4: 26-29).
Isn’t eternal life something like this? For all our efforts to seek a change of heart, to practice our faith life, to do good and avoid evil, isn’t life itself a gift that eludes our efforts to understand it, measure it, and otherwise explain how it works? Eternal life is a gift from God, and life on earth can only give us glimpses of it from time to time.
July is one of those glimpses for me each year, but that’s not the way it is for a lot of people around here.
Ask around MH Combermere, “What is your favorite month or season?” and most of the time you’ll get a response like this: “Autumn is my favorite time, either September or October.
“The days are warm, and the nights are cool and good for sleeping. There are no bugs, and it is perfect hiking weather. The leaves are at their peak of color, and we celebrate our favorite saints — St. Thérèse of Lisieux, St. Francis of Assisi, St. Teresa of Avila, and St. Padre Pio. Not to mention the North American martyrs (Jean de Brébeuf and companions), St. Teresa of Calcutta, or the Archangels Michael, Gabriel, and Raphael, and the Guardian Angels, topped off by Our Lady of the Rosary, Our Lady of Sorrows, and the Glorious Cross.
“Yep, September and October are the best months of the year here in Canada, and when it comes to saints…”
It’s kind of hard to argue with these people, because, admittedly, July can have its share of hot days, warm uncomfortable nights, mosquitoes, and biting flies of various kinds, not to mention drought and fires.
Presumably, none of these difficulties and challenges will carry over into eternity. Or will they? Could it be that the difficulties and trials and sorrows and all the pain and suffering that are part of July, even a lush, green July full of promise, also have their place in the next world, though wholly transformed?
Take sickness, for example. We know that when Jesus walked the earth, he cured all kinds of sickness and disease. This was one of the signs that the kingdom of God was indeed near, and also that one day the various signs of our fallen nature would be overcome by the power of God and our faith in him.
Yet, when Jesus himself rose from the dead, his glorified body still bore the wounds of his passion. Now, however, these wounds were taken up into his glory. Hatred and rage and the will to destroy had made those wounds, and now flowing forth invisibly were forgiveness, compassion, reconciliation, and peace — in other words, divine life, eternal life.
So with our various sufferings — if, with the assistance of Christ, we do our best to make of these an offering united to his, who knows what features of glory these will have in eternity, minus the threat of sickness itself?
Yet, if we are honest about these things, most of us need to admit that we do rather poorly at offering our sufferings with the Lord’s. Often we are apt to find ourselves complaining, irritable, bemoaning our fate, and wishing it would change for the better!
The example of the saints who joyfully offered their sorrows and even begged for more seems far away and unattainable, not to mention undesirable. Can’t we do so much more for the Lord if we are healthy and strong? Isn’t it these who often end up caring for the infirm and the weak?
What is “more” and what is “less” are part of that very mystery of eternal life, where the last shall be first and the first last, where those who lose their life for the Lord’s sake save their life, and those who seek to save their life lose it. Where divine power is manifest in weakness, and the wise and clever are shown to be foolish.
All of which is to say that there is a paradoxical element in the gospels that escapes and transcends mere human calculation.
Yet there is no doubt that the unrepentant, death, and Satan will have no place in the kingdom. These will be cast into the lake of everlasting fire, while those who have passed through the fires of suffering for the sake of Christ will shine gloriously forever with God’s own light (Rv: 20-21).
Lord, I wonder what our wounds will look like in that kingdom? What blessings will be given through them once they are washed clean of our pettiness and lack of faith in you? With what strange and wonderful light will they shine when your kingdom comes in fullness at last?
When we are young, we can give you our strength and our stamina, our gifts and our boundless enthusiasm. When we are not so young, we can offer our struggle just to get through a day. All this is part of you, isn’t it, Lord? You living in us, offering our lives with yours to the Father.
Yes, Lord, July or October must be even more beautiful when glorified with transfigured light. How much more your children, wounded here for you, and one with you in fullness over there!
Sketch by Alexander MacAdam
