"Pierced"

The Holy Easter Triduum is upon us, the holiest of the holy days. It's a time for us to do as we will hear in the readings at the Good Friday service, "They will look upon him whom they have pierced."

That is what all the Catholic faithful do on Good Friday. We look on him whom “they” have pierced. Who is “they”? The difficult reality of which I am reminded each year at this time is that it was not Judas, or Peter, or the Pharisees, or the Roman soldiers who pierced Jesus Christ. It is me. It is all of us who are called to be his followers. The sheep have not merely wandered outside the shepherd's care: they have attacked him.

It is a mystery, at least to me, what force is at work here, when the sheep pierce their shepherd. Ultimately we know from revelation that it is a thing called “original sin.” It's the mutation of our human desires into something less than human, less than holy. It is that we have lost the ability to discern what will truly bring us happiness, and thus become convinced that in order to truly be happy, we must flee from the One who created and loves and sustains us in existence. Not only that we must flee from him, but that we must erase him from our lives altogether.

We live in a society that for some time has tried this approach. It is what John Paul II called the “culture of death” and Benedict XVI the “dictatorship of relativism.” A culture which indulges its passions and whims in pursuit of whatever scraps of happiness can be found before tomorrow brings death to all.

But what we find is that all the material joys in the world in the end leave only a bitter taste in the mouth without a deeper contentment, and believing as these cultures do that no deeper contentment exists, a drab despair sets in--a sort of malaise that is the antithesis of hope, and with which is conjoined the greatest virtue love's antithesis: not hate, but indifference.

Indeed the source of so many social ills of our day I would suggest is not hate, but indifference. Many are those who are pierced today by this indifference, by this apathy. It is indifference to the Mary Magdalenes of our day that makes it possible for us to objectify women. It is indifference to the unwed mothers of our day that makes it possible to walk away from them. It is indifference to the pre-born infants that makes it possible for us to turn a blind eye as they are annihilated in droves.

It is indifference that makes us walk down a city street and never notice the poorest of the poor. And who are they? It is not just the guitar-playing, cig-smoking transients perched in the crevices of the city. They are hungry for food and shelter and justice to be sure. But there is a greater hunger--a veritable emaciation--shared with them by the well-to-do educated elites that pass them by each day (and I am no exception to this). It is the need for that deeper contentment, the God-shaped vacuum in every human heart. It is the thirst for the Way, the Truth, and the Life. It is a hunger for “him whom they have pierced.” But to really take on the life of the One Pierced there first must be conquered the very vice that pierces him, namely, indifference.

If we are to be filled with the joy and peace of God for which we hunger, we must choose to never be again indifferent. We must choose to heal the wounds of others, who are Christ in disguise. We must choose to protect the weakest and most defenseless among us, the baby Jesus' of this world. We must choose to care, and to serve, and to love, as Christ did.

But something is holding us back. We are hesitant. Why? What stops us on a daily basis from breaking down the walls of apathy?

Just as Christ is the example of the one who refuses indifference, he is also the example of the consequences we may expect if we so refuse. Because everyone mattered to Jesus. The gentiles, the pagans, the lepers, the sinners, they all received the unflinching love of Christ. It was precisely that refusal on the part of Christ to ignore these outcasts and underclasses that so upset the leaders of his religious tradition. It was that very refusal to be indifferent, that very commitment to really love the poor, that caused him to be pierced in the first place.

And so we are confronted with the great conundrum of the Christian life: that the greatest joy in the world, the joy of loving God and loving neighbor without hesitation, without fear, requires that we, like Christ, allow ourselves to be pierced. In a world marked by sin, there can be no love for God that does not entail suffering. How many of us hold back from speaking out on behalf of the defenseless, hesitate to serve the poor for fear of being persecuted or taken advantage of?

We fear not only those sufferings but even the slightest discomforts. As I went through the application process for seminary, I had to have blood drawn for tests. My veins were difficult to find and I was poked several times in both arms. And how impressed I was with myself! “I must really want to go to seminary,” I told my friends. As if a poke in the arm was some great sacrifice on my part. As a society we are afraid of needles. The Christian life radically invites us to brave the nails.

Conversely, as a society we are content with the measliest pleasures. We sip from the teacup of materialism and greed. The Christian life radically invites us to drink from the river of resurrection and new life.

This Easter, let's accept that invitation. Let us embrace the whole gambit of downs and ups and sufferings and joys of the Christian life. For what we discover when we choose to no longer be indifferent, to love without hesitation, is that the nails of the Christian life become as needles, and the teacup of measly pleasures overflows into the river of resurrection. Amen.