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Life Ways When Life Is One Dark Tunnel The cross…it is the privilege of the Christian, a stumbling block to the world. Inherent in our Baptism, infallible in its coming, incalculable in its graces, the cross will enter our lives sooner or later. Its coming will make or break us. It often makes us only after breaking us. It may appear as the loss of a job, the death of a parent, the hospitalization and illness of a child, cancer, natural disaster, an unexplainable accident, misunderstanding, loneliness, chronic pain. When it appears it is never our cross, though it is individually tailored to us. It is always the cross of Christ. Fifteen years ago I had been admitted to routine outpatient surgery on my foot and suffered a stroke that occurred during or after the operation. I was twenty-one. A reaction to anesthesia? A mistake? Who will ever know. The physical, mental and emotional havoc it brought in my life is still a cross I will carry all my life. When I asked a priest friend of mine, "Why me?" he answered, "Why not you?" I spent many months in anger. I hated the cross and rejected all it stands for. I sat long in the darkness reading the Book of Consolation in Isaiah as a sheer act of faith. I sought everywhere for an answer to the question of suffering. In my best moments I came to realize deep within me, there is no answer. Slowly I have come to realize I no longer need to ask the question. The question makes no sense, and asking it only blocks resurrection. I wrestle with the cross till I fall in love with the Crucified and embrace his death in order to experience his resurrection. The bad things that happen to us make us feel, at times, at the mercy of fate. Life is meaningless and a quiet cynicism invades our attitude. Without the mystery of the cross, life would be incomprehensible. In His Hope is Our Hope The cross can be an experience of utter darkness. Absolute abandonment. The emptiness that nothing can fill. The mysticism of Calvary experienced from the inside by Jesus himself. The fact that another has gone before us in the darkness, however, gives us a glimpse of the gray hope of eventual day. Jesus in his utter abandonment by the Father in his time of need turns us to face the darkness. It is not darkness devoid of everything—it is a darkness Another has embraced for our sake. Nothing is beyond the suffering of Jesus. His heart is not beyond ours. His sorrow is not beyond ours. His depth is not beyond our own. We have before us one like us in everything but sin. Our darkness is the place where Jesus Christ dwells—not inert and careless—but as one who feels it all...the emptiness, the gloom, the despair. Yet somehow through all this, he put his life in his Father’s hands. Rachael was in her mid-forties, a wife and mom. Her strong sense of family came second only to her faith. Her world shattered one July evening several years ago when her husband of twenty-two years told her that he was being investigated for being a pedophile. Tom also told her there was some truth to the allegations. In an instant, Rachael’s world blew up around her. The terrible hurt almost immobilized her in the coming months. She bottled her own anger, but lashed out when she saw the pain her teenage son and daughter experienced. Rachael knew that God was asking something, perhaps testing something, but she didn’t know what it was. Even without this answer, however, she knew she would not turn her back on God. The only thing that sustained her through the years of anguish that followed, was that she knew that God’s answers to her prayers would arrive—not in her time, but in his time. Rachael had to learn the truth that accepting support was more difficult than giving it, as family and friends rallied to support her during her husband’s arrests, investigations and court proceedings. She knew that God had sent these "angel friends," as she calls them, to help carry her cross. They were her Simon of Cyrene as the story made headlines not only in their small town newspaper and television, but was broadcast across a dozen states. Rachel’s life was a long dark tunnel with no light at the end for many months, devastating her financially, and draining her emotionally, physically and spiritually. Sometimes a glimmer of light turned out to be only another locomotive steaming through the tunnel, running her over once more. Prayer and time heal. Rachael’s life has traveled beyond the inky darkness of the tunnel. Her daily rosary has brought her consolation and revelation. She realized that life is like the rosary. A third is joyful, a third sorrowful, and a third glorious. She feels her many blessings are joyful and glorious. Rachael's life has come a full and blessed circle. By the grace of God, she and her children learned that they are survivors. Now, independent twenty-somethings, the children have begun careers, but are very close as a family. Rachael has refound her sense of wholeness along with a new sense of direction and strength. When her life is challenged with future crosses she will not ask God, "Why?’ or "Why me?" Rachael will carry the cross because she her seen that there is a glorious Resurrection, and beyond that there is an Ascension, as well. Praying in the Darkness The cross can often lead to the darkness of depression, more so today in a world that is ruthless and often doesn’t allow a second chance. Depression, however, is not the last word. At these times, we need to turn to people in our lives who love and care for us: a trusted friend, family member, parish priest, therapist, or doctor. When we reach out we discover the many people who love us, though we often can’t believe in their love or feel lovable. The challenge is moving beyond those feelings in order to find ways to be connected. The darkness is deep. Love is around us like a vibrant light. In the darkness that surrounds us when we shoulder the cross, we may not be able to understand. We may only be able to struggle to accept. A person may discover when they try to pray that there seems to be no connection with God or anyone else is impossible. Yet, I know people who have gone three, five, ten years without "praying," though they faithfully adhered to a time set aside for contemplation. All there was, was a haunting darkness. All communication had gone still. Loneliness, boredom, frustration, anger. Contemplation? Even here. Recognizing this agony of the void calls the person to be present to the Now....even if the Now is darkness. There is a God in that void—the God of Jesus Christ who hears the prayer-agony of his only Son, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" To be present to that agony, and to know that Jesus is in that agony with us and for us is contemplation, even were no prayer or act of love to pass through our hearts. His abiding love is deep within, never forsaking the one in darkness. Contemplation calls us there where all prayer escapes or even makes one angry. There we are alone in the void with the Son of God—both of us keeping silent. To a friend I knew who was faithful to this contemplation of silence, of sharing in the cry of the Son of God, there was eventually a turning point. Almost imperceptibly something seemed to change, like a very slow sunrise. Meeting her after years of struggling with prayer, thinking she hadn’t prayed, I found in her a strength, a depth, a compassion, a heart, a prayer one finds in few others. She had experienced a mystery of the life of Christ that many never do. She had suffered the Passion to the bitter end, and she had been resurrected more gloriously.
Copyright © 1999-2003, Daughters of St. Paul. All Rights Reserved.
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