RESURRECTED

I am on my way to Jamaica to help during Holy Week, due to the shortage of priests there. The first time I was blessed with such a mission, I was sent to three small churches – each about 45 minutes from the other - in the back country of Morant Bay. The main roads along the ocean were washed away in large segments by hurricanes from prior years; the dirt roads to the hillside villages had many pronounced ruts a foot deep. Yet the people, mostly elderly women, would make the long walk of a mile or two to come to Mass and Good Friday services. I would sit with them in the back of an old pick up on the return journey home, listening to their stories of life and faith – with a very thick, melodic accent.

The main village where I stayed had a beautiful view of the ocean, some historic monuments (badly in need of repair) paying homage to the brave slaves who rose up to win their freedom and independence from England, a few stores with lots of half-empty shelves, and a housing “sub-division” of rusted metal shanties, made from oil drums that had been cut to make the sides and roof. The people’s poverty seemed more than compensated by a richness of joy and radiant smiles.

Though the world can seem a living hell, and we need to tirelessly strive to overcome the injustice of poverty and violence, sometimes we can be our own worst enemies: our negativity, pointing the finger of blame on others for our “hell”, or worse responding to violence with more violence. Still, heaven is here, waiting to be discovered…within us. This is the “Good News” of Jesus. He did not come to liberate his people from the oppression of Roman tyranny, but to free each of us from the imprisonment within, by transforming our lives into a new way of thinking…seeing…being.

He said to become childlike. And I indeed found a heaven on earth in the laughter, joyfulness and playfulness among the Jamaican children. On Holy Saturday, as we worked to make decorations for the church, they seemed enthralled by my relatively straight and gray hair, and were trying to braid it. It was painful…and delightful.

The Easter Vigil Mass was to have begun at 7:00 p.m., but since folks kept coming we began a half-hour later. We read all nine readings and sang entire songs between readings. There was much music and dancing. It was such a festive celebration. There were seven baptisms – five adults and two teens – in a walk-down baptismal pool, with three plus feet of water. The Mass ended at 12:30 a.m., but I would not have known that it had lasted so long had I not later noticed the clock in the sacristy. It seemed to go so quickly.

Easter Monday as I flew home I could not help but feel a new-ness of life from the joyful experience and the many good people I had met. But the highlight was yet to come. As I gave my passport to the Customs official in Miami, I greeted him and asked, “How are you doing this morning?” His response, “I am RESURRECTED!”

Would that we could all say that this Easter…and every day thereafter. Blessings and prayers... and HAPPY EASTER.