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Christ our hope an easter meditation

By Bishop Edward K. Braxton

Hope! What does the word “hope” mean to you? Do you think hope means the same thing in the following examples? I “hope” that the best person will be elected president. I “hope” that I will not suffer when I die. I “hope” our marriage will survive this crisis. I really “hope” the many factions in my parish can work together in spite of our differences. I “hope” that the tumor the doctor found is not cancerous. I “hope” I win the lottery. I “hope” our children get through high school and college without getting involved in drugs. I “hope” that when I die I will go to heaven. I “hope” I do not loose my job during this recession. I “hope” the Holy Father and the bishops will always be guided by the Spirit as they lead the Church. I “hope” that our parish never has to close. I “hope” that the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan will be brought to a peaceful conclusion. I “hope” there will be an increase in vocations to the religious life, the diaconate, and the priesthood in our diocese. I “hope” the United States will put an end to abortion and the death penalty in my lifetime. I “hope” that those who are baptized into the Catholic Church during the Easter Vigil will become vital members of the Body of Christ.

When we say we “hope” for something, we may mean that we would be very happy if what we hope for comes about. Or we may mean that we intend to do everything within our power to make sure that what we hope for will happen. When we know that what we hope for is not likely to happen, we call such hope “wishful thinking.” If we hope for something that is beyond anything we can do ourselves, our “hope” may mean that we are trusting in the all-powerful, all-knowing, all-loving God, who is always with us, even when the things we hoped for do not happen in the way we hoped they would.

The resurrection of Jesus Christ is the radical source of our hope as Christians. Faith in the resurrection was the source of the hope of the earliest Christians. Indeed, there would be no Christianity, no New Testament, and no memory of Jesus of Nazareth, apart from His disciples’ faith in the resurrection and their hope of sharing in Eternal Life.

Many Christians are surprised to learn that the Gospels of St. Matthew, St. Mark, St. Luke, and St. John are not the New Testament’s earliest accounts of the resurrection. The earliest account is found in Chapter 15 of the First Letter of St. Paul to the Corinthians, written about 54 A.D. Some of the Christians living in Corinth were expressing doubt about the resurrection of Christ. They were also questioning the belief that Christ’s followers are called to share in the
resurrection. St. Paul does not write about the women going to the tomb, the experience of the empty tomb, the angels at the tomb, and the disciple’s encounter with the risen Lord on the road to Emmaus the way the evangelists do. Instead, he challenges the Corinthians, by reminding them of the good news about Jesus Christ that had been handed on to him, and that he had handed to them.

“I want to remind you of the Gospel I preached to you … I taught you what I had been taught myself, namely, that Christ died for our sins, in accordance with the Scriptures; that He was buried; and that He was raised to life on the third day, in accordance with the Scriptures. He appeared first to Peter and then to the Twelve. Next, He appeared to more than five-hundred of the brothers at the same time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died…Last of all He appeared also to me. It was as though I was born out of season when no one expected it.” (15: 1:3-8)
In an argument that catches many readers by surprise, St. Paul builds our hope of personal resurrection on the resurrection of Christ Himself. This comes as a surprise because many skeptical, contemporary Christians suggest that they might believe that God raised Jesus from the dead, but they remain doubtful about the Christian belief that God will raise all people from the dead at “the end of time.”

St. Paul expresses it this way, “Now if Christ raised from the dead is what has been preached, how can some of you be saying that there is no resurrection of the dead? If there is no resurrection of the dead, Christ Himself cannot have been raised, and if Christ has not been raised then vain is our preaching and vain is your faith … For if the dead are not raised, Christ has not been raised, and if Christ has not been raised, you are still in your sins. And what is more serious, all who have died in Christ have perished. If our hope in Christ has been for this life only, we are the most unfortunate of all people. But Christ has, in fact, been raised from the dead, the first-fruits of all who have fallen asleep. Death came through one man and in the same way the resurrection of the dead has come through one man. Just as all men die in Adam, so are all men brought to life in Christ.” (15:12-22)

Once again, the Church’s Year of Grace has called us from Advent to Christmas, to Ordinary Time, to Ash Wednesday, to Lent, to Palm Sunday, to Holy Week, to the Sacred Triduum. Holy Thursday, the Liturgy of the Lord’s Supper, Good Friday, the Liturgy of the Lord’s Passion, and Holy Saturday, the Liturgy of the Easter Vigil (March 20, 21, 22) are the most solemn, the most moving, and the most important liturgies of the Church’s year, even though they are not “Holy Days of Obligation.” The whole of the liturgical year flows from these days of the Passover of the Lord, the Paschal Mystery. With the proclamation of the Easter Exultet and Alleluia we announce that Christ has risen from the dead. This is the Easter mystery by which we are reborn and the source of our great hope. This hope is symbolized at every funeral Mass when we place the Paschal Candle, the Light of the risen Christ, next to the eminently gentle remains of our beloved dead, for the celebration of the Liturgy of Christian Burial.

A Death in Lent
In my homily at the Chrism Mass last year, I reflected on the Sacred Oils that I was consecrating and blessing. I spoke of the destiny of the Oils: the future encounters between the Sacred Chrism and the children I would confirm, the priests I would ordain, and the church altars I would consecrate; the Oil of the Catechumens and those who would be baptized by our deacons, priests and bishops; the Oil of the Sick and the infirmed and the dying, who would be anointed all over Southern Illinois. I said, “By the power of the Holy Spirit these are encounters between the members of the Church and the risen Christ, the source of our hope.” I knew as I said those words that it was very possible that I would anoint my own mother for the last time with the Oil of the Sick in the year ahead.

My mother, Evelyn Kathryn Gardner Braxton, the sixth and last child of Kenneth Edward Gardner and Alice Vester Hall, was born on Thursday, March 11, 1920. She was always the heart and soul of our very close family: my dear father, Cullen, my elder sister and brother, Gwendolyn and Lawrence, and my younger sisters, Patricia and Adrienne. Because we were so close we always called her “Mother Dear.” She was a woman of singular spiritual beauty and Christian faith who lived a long, full, happy life. Her radiant smile filled a room. She had a great love for the presence of Christ in the Blessed Sacrament and in the Sacred Scripture. She had a deep devotion to Mary, the Mother of the Lord. For years she prayed the rosary daily. One of my clearest memories of both of my parents is the image of them praying their night prayers on their knees at their bedside.

Mother Dear was the dearest of the dear in my life. She placed my feet on the path of faith, love, learning, and service. She introduced me to music, art, history, and culture by urging me to read and taking me often to the outstanding museums and cultural centers in Chicago. Whatever good gifts I may have as a Priest and Bishop have come to me from my beloved parents. It was my custom to call them everyday no matter where I was in the world. We were blessed to be able to travel the world together. She especially enjoyed our trips to Israel, the Vatican, and Africa. We often shared the major truths of our soul space. In recent years failing health and the shadow of forgetfulness diminished her world. But even weighed down to mother earth by the burden of the years she was always cheerful and appreciative of every kindness, every visit. I spent Thursday and Friday, February 6-7 with her. I noticed an increased weakness, but nothing alarming.

On Sunday morning, Feb. 10, one month and one day before Mother Dear’s eighty- eighth birthday, I was preparing for the 10:30 a.m. Mass on the first Sunday of Lent at the Cathedral. Mother Dear rose and dressed for breakfast as usual. She decided to lie down for a few moments until breakfast was ready. When the ladies who assisted her returned, moments later, she had simply slept away peacefully, as she had prayed she would. When I heard my sister, Patricia’s voice on the telephone, I knew at once that the long dreaded day had arrived. I flew immediately from St. Louis to Chicago. I arrived to find her in serene repose, still filled with the warmth of life. I anointed her with Sacred Oil for the last time. With family members and friends we wept, prayed, and talked, sat in silence, laughed and wept. We lingered with her throughout the afternoon, wondering if her extraordinary spirit might be lingering with us as well to give us courage and comfort.

In the Liturgy of Christian Burial on Friday evening, February 15th, I reflected on St. John’s account of the raising Lazarus to new life. Jesus tells Martha and Mary to untie Lazarus and let him go free. My prayer and confident hope is that the same Lord Jesus Christ has spoken to Mother Dear’s infirmities and said, “Untie Evelyn and let her go free!”

There are no words, no words at all to express the profound grief and abiding sorrow that my family and I are experiencing in the death of my mother. When you lavish love on someone as we did and as she did, there can be no talk of “getting over” such life-changing loss. I already know from the death of my father and the death of my only brother that you never “get over” such heart wrenching experiences. The one constant in Mother Dear’s life was love. Her love for God, for the Church, for her husband, her children, her family, her many friends, and for life in this amazing world. She always opened her heart in love and friendship to everyone she met. For us she will always be the valiant woman whose virtues are praised in the Book of Proverbs, 31:10-31. With time, quiet prayer, the genuine love of true friends, and Easter faith, it is possible to “get through” such sorrow. No doubt it is the wish of our loved ones who die before us that we do indeed “get through” the dark valley of sorrows. Perhaps they accompany us with their love.

The Breaking of the Bread
What does Christian hope mean to you? In the third Gospel, St. Luke expands upon two verses in the Gospel of St. Mark and calls us to Christian hope in the story of the mysterious encounter between two of the disciples and the risen Christ. They are discussing the death of Jesus as they are walking to the village of Emmaus when the risen Lord walks at their side, though they do not recognize Him. When He asks them what they are discussing, they reply, “All about Jesus of Nazareth who proved He was a great prophet by the things He did and said in the sight of God and of the whole people. Our chief priests handed Him over to be sentenced to death and had Him crucified. We had hoped that He was the one to set Israel free. Two whole days have gone by since it all happened and some women from our group went to the tomb early in the morning. When they did not find the body, they came back to tell us they had seen a vision of angels who declared Jesus was alive.” (Lk. 24:19-24)

Jesus scolds them and calls them foolish men who are so slow in believing the full message of the prophets. “Was it not ordained that the Christ should suffer and so enter into His glory? Then starting with the prophets, He explained to them the passages throughout the Scriptures that were about Himself.” (Lk. 24:27-28) When they drew near Emmaus they urged the stranger to stay with them since the day was almost over. “While He was at table with them, He took the bread and said the blessing. Then He broke the bread and handed it to them. And their eyes were opened and they recognized Him; but He vanished from their sight.” (Lk. 24:30-32) They returned immediately to Jerusalem and told the Eleven how they had recognized Jesus “in the breaking of the bread.”

With the powerful liturgical image of the “breaking of the bread” St. Luke is teaching us that the risen Christ, the source of our hope, is with us when we gather for prayer, especially when we gather for the Eucharist. When we listen to the Word of God and when we offer our selves to the Father with the gifts of bread and wine, God the Father, by the power of the Holy Spirit, nourishes us with the Body and Blood of His risen Son. In faith we recognize Him in the breaking of the bread. When we participate in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass on Easter Sunday, or on any day of the year, we are proclaiming that the resurrection of Jesus Christ is the radical source of our hope as Christians. He is the radical source of our hope for those who have died and “have gone before us to their rest in the hope of rising again.”

My beloved Mother Dear died during Lent. Many of your beloved grandparents, mothers, fathers, husbands, wives, sons, daughters, sisters, brothers, uncles, aunts, and dear friends have also died during Lent and throughout this year. When your parish notifies me of these sad events, I have written to you or called you to assure you of my prayers and to express my sympathy and that of the Diocese of Belleville. Three of our good priests died these past six months as well. Dear Father John L. Venegoni died on Oct. 11, dear Msgr. Angelo J. Lombardo on Nov. 5 and dear Father Ralph L. Haas died on March 7. We should be mindful that the Catholic Funeral Mass is not a “Mass of the resurrection,” as it is often misnamed. It is rather the Liturgy of Christian Burial. If we knew with certainty that our loved ones have already been “raised from the dead” and united with Christ in heaven, we would not gather to pray for them; we would gather to pray to them. The great Easter Mystery of Faith, which we are celebrating, grounds our HOPE that though we see now through a glass darkly we shall ultimately see God face to face. Our hope is that all who live in Christ and die in Him, purified from sin, will be united in the heavenly Jerusalem at the Eternal Banquet of the Lord.

Dying You destroyed our death. Rising You restored our life. Lord Jesus come in glory! Alleluia!