Having already forgotten what the Psalmist reminded us of last Sunday—“This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!”—these folks chose to remain in the darkness this past week, concealed behind the heavy stone that seals the tomb’s entrance shut. In this dark, acrid, and dank space, what’s believed to be “normal” is actually abnormal. It’s like Rod Sterling’s “Twilight Zone” where the reality is unhappiness and frustration—what possesses the power to ruin each day—rather than joy and gladness—which possess the power to enrich each day.
At the end of each day and left pondering just how unfair life has been and continues to be, “sleepy” Catholics ask, “What good are joy and gladness when disappointment and hopelessness weigh me down?”
Yet, today the Catholic Church across the globe celebrates the eighth day of Easter. Yes, Easter Sunday lasts eight days, each day of the octave to be celebrated as if it’s Easter Sunday! For “WOKE” Catholics, this is all too much! They’ve become plum tuckered out with all the rejoicing and gladness. For them and as difficult as it may be, it’s now time to return from Heaven’s heights and get on with daily life as faith dictates it, meaning the remaining 42 days—the next six weeks—of the Easter season when “WOKE” Catholics annually reacquaint themselves with the basic content of a living faith.
That task begins by considering what faith is, its source of inspiration, and how it’s lived.
Consider first what faith dictated to St. John one Sunday while he was imprisoned on the island of Patmos. Unable to preach, a loud voice instructed him:
Write down, therefore, what you have seen, what is happening, and what will happen afterwards.
We have inherited what St. John wrote down:
- What he saw were miraculous signs.
- What happened is that people who experienced these signs believed.
- What happened afterwards was that people—folks just like you and me—who read and have heard about these signs also have come to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that through this belief had life in his name.
A simple definition of faith is: “To have life in his name.”
But what does that mean?
St. Thomas the Apostle’s attitude provides a clue to the answer:
Don’t be unbelieving, but believe. Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.
While many of us treat faith as if it’s an idea—meaning to “believe that Jesus who was crucified and died on Good Friday rose from the dead on the third day, Easter Sunday”—what difference does that idea make to the way we actually live each day?
The honest answer?
For many of us, probably little if anything, if only for the reason it’s so very easy to return to the tomb after Easter Sunday and remain in it—to live what Pope Francis has called a “tomb psychology”—passing our days as “sleepy” Catholics who may very well be on the way to becoming “catacomb” Catholics. Several decades ago, the Lutheran theologian Jaroslav Pelikan defined this kind of faith as the “dead faith of the living.”
Perhaps it’s for the reason that, just like St. Thomas the Apostle, unless we see “many signs and wonders”—the shadow of the Archbishop falling upon and healing a sick person, not once but several times—we don’t have much interest, time, or motivation to do what it takes to become “WOKE” Catholics. Quite likely, that also means we haven’t said from our hearts once during this octave of Easter “Give thanks to the Lord for he is good, his love is everlasting”—having returned to and now remaining ensconced in a tomb psychology. Which is to say: We don’t have anything for which we give thanks to the Lord.
But why should we? We’ve not experienced God personally to know in our hearts that God’s love is everlasting in our lives.
How sad it is when don’t give thanks to the Lord for his everlasting love, especially as that’s revealed in the many people God has placed into our lives, especially those whose words and actions have revealed something of God’s everlasting love to us, like our parents and grandparents, our spouses and children, as well as our dear friends. Why is it we’re not thankful to the Lord for such love? Is it because we don’t view people as revealing God’s everlasting love for us but instead as people who temporarily made us feel good or are flawed so they couldn’t possibly ever reveal God’s everlasting love?
That’s not faith but getting everything about faith backwards which helps to understand why Catholics become “sleepy” Catholics in the first place. For them, faith is yet but another burden, one that’s piled upon those other two, life-denying if not life-annihilating burdens: The sum of the daily disappointments and hopelessness that, for people of faith, God destroyed on Easter Sunday by raising His only begotten Son from the dead.
Reversing things, we should recall that remember that faith isn’t so much what we do. More substantively, it’s a gift—God’s gift to us through which we “have life in his name”—that possesses the power to change us and how we live our days. Without faith, it’s impossible to do what faith mandates if we’re to become a “WOKE” Catholic. And so, we end up condemning ourselves to spend our days in a dark tomb with the stone rolled back , enclosed upon ourselves, our thoughts, our past, and all the wasted days we envision could have been so much better. Yet, there’s no motivation or courage to venture beyond that acrid and dank darkness by looking forward with the eyes of faith to envision something different and better because, even though the light breaks through the tomb’s crags, it causes pain, burning our eyes as it heals our souls by calling us to leave all that behind.
Much of this is attributable to the lack of a personal experience of God’s everlasting love. Only an authentic encounter of God possesses the power—as God demonstrated on Easter Sunday—to roll back such a weighty stone separating “sleepy” Catholics from the light of life.
None of us can purchase faith by doing good things, as if faith is a commodity. No, it’s one of God’s gifts, one possessing the power to change lives—to raise the dead to new life—meaning that faith possesses power to strengthen what’s otherwise dead to stand up, to walk toward the light, to emerge from the tomb, and to leave all of that behind. But, if God is to liberate “sleepy” Catholics from their tomb psychology, they must accept the gift of faith by taking the risk to do what faith mandates by changing their lives in the light of day, freely choosing to accept God’s give and not to return to the tomb.
That’s how faith begins.
It then matures into a stronger faith as “WOKE” Catholics continue to demonstrate courage to move forward each day into the light of God’s day, looking expectantly to experience God’s everlasting love. In this way, “WOKE” Catholics exhibit what Pelikan called the “living faith of the dead.”
If each of us is to “do this in memory of me,” as Jesus taught, we first must accept the gift God has already given each of us: “Life in his name.” Otherwise, this gift cannot change us or how we live each day and, like the many people who heard Jesus teach, we also will walk away, returning home to the acrid, dank tomb.
It’s easy to spot those who allow this gift to change them and how they live: They aren’t fearful or ashamed to express their thanks to God. For example, upon hearing Jesus teach each Sunday in the gospel—with authority, not as the religious hypocrites teach—these “WOKE” Catholics “go away amazed and glorify God” who has broken through the darkness of their lives, illuminating them about how faith can better inform how they will live each day forward.
Like St. John when he was imprisoned on the island of Patmos, perhaps on this last day of the octave of Easter we may feel inclined to become “WOKE” Catholics whose lives give witness to the living faith of the dead but find ourselves “sleepy,” not having ever really expressed our thanks to God. Having learned a little about what constitutes the foundation of a “WOKE” Catholic faith, what the loud voice told St. John in this morning’s gospel represents our challenge for this second week of Easter:
Write down, therefore, what you have seen, what is happening, and what will happen afterwards.
To express our thanks to God for His everlasting love this second week of Easter, upon awaking each morning this week, conduct a memento mori by recalling what St. John said: “Write down what you have seen, what is happening, and what will happen afterwards.” Then, commit yourself at each day’s end to take a moment to write down the miraculous signs you saw, what happened to the people who experienced these signs, and what happened afterwards.
Then, having make this commitment, open your eyes during the day and look for the presence of the Risen Lord in others as they introduce light into the darkness by raising others from their disillusionment and hopelessness. Realize this is the fulfillment of the promise God made on Christmas Eve: “Emmanuel”—which means “God is with us”—and remember to give thanks to God. Most importantly, don’t forget to write it all down at day’s end, not on a scroll but on a piece of paper or in a tablet so that you will new life in his name.
Why write it down? To chronicle how “God is with us.” Over time, the collection of these pieces of paper or tablets will provide each what today’s scripture called the “key of life,” one opening the door of faith that enables us to say, “We have seen the Lord.” Unlike St. Thomas the Apostle, we will no longer refuse to believe until we see the mark of the nails in his hands, put our finger into the nail marks, or put our hand into his side. Instead, we will continuously “see and believe.” As Jesus said to St. Thomas the Apostle, challenging him to leave his “tomb psychology” behind and to be transformed by the living faith of the dead:
Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.
For “WOKE” Catholics, each and every day is “the day the Lord has made”..a day to rejoice and be glad by giving thanks to the Lord because they personally experienced that God’s love is everlasting.
A POST-DEMIC LITURGICAL NOTE:
As dioceses across the nation reinstate the ritual of the “sign of peace” during the Communion Rite, some catechesis about the ritual:
- The sign of peace ritual expresses the peace of Christ that arrives liturgically with the Eucharistic Prayer and the transubstantiation of the bread and wine into the Real Presence—the “Sacrifice of our Reconciliation in Christ.” With Jesus Christ truly present in our midst, the sign of peace—sinful people who have atoned with one another—prepares us for the deepest possible communion when we present ourselves to receive the Body and Blood of Christ.
- Although in the United States there are no prescribed gestures or words for this ritual, a handshake is its typical expression and, for spouses and family members, a “kiss of peace.” The ritual can be accompanied by stating “The peace of the Lord be with you always,” to which the reply is “Amen,” just as it is when we present ourselves to receive the Body and Blood of Christ (General Instruction of the Roman Missal, #154).
Whatever its appropriate local expression, the gesture should be fitting and sober, extended to those who are nearest (#82). Waving, giving a victory sign, and pumping a fist into the air are incompatible with the intended expression of atonement and communion with those who nearest to one another. - The invitation to offer the sign of peace always remains optional (#154). For example, when the congregation is scattered throughout the church and its members are sitting at a distance from one another, the priest may dispense with the sign of peace.
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