Being "WOKE" Catholics during the Easter Octave: "Remember what he told you in Galilee"...

Each Easter Sunday—which the Church calls “The Solemnity of the Resurrection of the Lord”—the Psalmist reminds us:

This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!

Those words resound in the hearts of “WOKE” Catholics for one reason: They’ve been preparing for this day over the past 40 days. Working to put an end to being “sleepy” Catholics, their goal has been to live the Catholic faith more authentically…to “awake from their slumber and arise from their sleep for the new day that’s dawning”—not upon those who weep but upon those who have experienced the fulfillment of the angel’s prophecy to St. Joseph on Christmas Eve:

He shall be named Emmanuel, which means “God is with us.”

Sadly, today isn’t “the day the Lord has made” for “sleepy” Catholics nor do they “rejoice and be glad” because they God don’t experience that God is “with” them but “distant” from them. It isn’t that “sleepy” Catholics are ungodly or immoral people any more or less than are many “WOKE” Catholics, just that for “sleepy” Catholics God is an abstract idea not an experience throughout each and every day, having little or no impact upon how “sleepy” Catholics live each day. For the past forty days, these folks didn’t:

• Commit themselves to take a few minutes each day to center themselves upon Emmanuel, not thinking or saying anything, just doing what we all were told on the first Sunday of Lent: “Listen to him.”
• Spent their days experiencing bewilderment as they wandered around in a dark cloud of disbelief. Neither experiencing nor trusting God, as we were told on the second Sunday of Lent, they were “occupied with earthly things” and spent the past forty days continuing to experience frustration and today continue to feel unfulfilled, just as they did on Ash Wednesday.
• Failed to present themselves to God as they truly are, as we were told on the third Sunday of Lent. Then, not presenting to God the first fruits of their efforts to walk the pathway of holiness—our only true work in this life—they didn’t “lift up their hearts” because they had no personal experience of why “it is right and just to give thanks to the Lord our God.”
• Believing that time is a personal possession to be lived as they determine, failed to recall what we all were told on the fourth Sunday of Lent, namely, that each day’s unfolding isn’t determined by the times they’ve allotted to “do [all] this.” Failing to “do this in memory of me,” they weren’t responsive to God’s surprises in those special places where God was leading them each day this past Lent.
• Remained blind to their original identity as God’s beloved children, thus failing to view their lives and the lives of others as God does. Continuing to live beneath that dark veil, as we all were told on the fifth Sunday of Lent, they continued living as moral and spiritual minimalists. Perhaps fully complying with the letter of the law, they never once experienced its living Source by hearing and listening to as well as seeing and discerning where God is calling them beyond themselves.
• Focused upon the past, they continued to live each day as the person they’ve made of themselves not their original identity as God’s beloved. Failing to strain forward and live in the present in hope of what lies ahead…by “continuing [their] pursuit of the goal, the prize of God’s upward calling in Christ Jesus,” as we all were told on the sixth Sunday of Lent, they missed out on what would have been the opportunity to experience God personally reaching out to and saving them in Christ Jesus by bringing life out of what appears dead and joy out of what has caused so much unhappiness.
• Failing to empty themselves and become a slave—sacrificing their self-interest for the good of others—“sleepy” Catholics didn’t learn to “rely on the LORD” who emptied Himself for them, first, because the LORD loved them. As a result, they never once said this past Lent, as Jesus did from the Cross on Good Friday, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.”

Not having taken seriously what Jesus taught—“Go, and from now on do not sin any more”—“sleepy” Catholics had no experience this past Lent of what the Psalmist wrote: “The Lord has done great things for us; we are filled with joy.” Had they done so by returning to God at the beginning of each day of this season of Lent by calling to mind “God is with us,” “sleepy” Catholics would have experienced this past season of Lent as a time of blessing and sanctification. But, failing to do so and continuing to live behind the tombstone of discouragement and hopelessness that insulates “sleepy” Catholics the luminous light of Easter Sunday, today might just as well be called “Spring Festivus.”

“This is the day the Lord has made” for all people in all times and in all places. God is with His people, even “sleepy” Catholics. Having “taken a pass” on the past season of Lent 2022, may our hearts be moved with pity for them and what they’ve forsaken by worshiping the idol of an abstract idea. “This [isn’t] the day the Lord has made” but yet another in a long list of sterile, Sunday rituals to be endured to remain “in good standing”…as is the living of their Catholic faith during the remaining six days of the week.

For those of us who have struggled mightily to become “WOKE” Catholics these past forty days by rending our hearts and not our garments, Lent was a personal experience of God’s time, a time of blessing and sanctification. We learned that by “render your hearts not your garments”—emptying ourselves—we open ourselves to God and, in turn, God provided the grace for us to bring Emmanuel to others so they would also experience “God is with us.” For them as well as for ourselves and people of good will everywhere, today—Easter Sunday—is “the day the Lord has made.”

In the gospel of the Easter Vigil, the narrative focused upon the women who brought spices to the tomb. Faithful Jewesses, they were fulfilling the ordinary funerary rituals associated with their faith and its practice, similar in the way many Catholic families today have a wake, funeral Mass, and burial for the deceased. In this narrative, however, the women feared their journey to fulfill the prescriptions of the law might be in vain because a large tombstone potentially could bar them from entering the sepulcher to perform the ritual anointing.

With the women focusing upon practical matters associated with life in this world—asking “Who will roll the stone back?”—what’s interesting about is how, despite the temptation, the women persisted in  making their journey. Due to their persistence—living their faith authentically as love for the deceased motivated the practice of their faith—the women encountered one of what Pope Francis calls “God’s surprises”: The tombstone—the impediment generating today’s discouragement and hopelessness—was rolled back.

Reflecting upon the past season of Lent, it might be observed that the women lived what was called a “WOKE” faith. Yes, they followed the letter of the law by preparing themselves to perform the religious rituals. But, more importantly, they didn’t allow the behemoth of a tombstone—their discouragement and hopelessness—to become an impediment to living out their practice of the faith. As a result, they experienced personally what the angel prophesied to St. Joseph on Christmas Eve:

He shall be named Emmanuel, which means “God is with us.”

In this way, the women represent us and where our journey of faith has brought us, especially as we attempted this past season of Lent to live no longer as “sleepy” Catholics.

When it comes to living a “WOKE” Catholic faith, how often did our good intentions come up against impediments we believed we were powerless to overcome and generated discouragement and hopelessness? Unlike the women, while our best intentions were to take the steps that we needed to take to grow morally and spiritually as Catholics, how often did we allow temptation thwart our intentions, thinking the impediment represented one of those bleak laws of life? Then too, how often did we allow the impediment to become insurmountable, making us feel hopeless and, in turn, to keep us from embarking on the journey or quitting the trek early into it?

But, as the gospel of the vigil reminded us, this journey wasn’t in vain for the reason the women didn’t come up against the tombstone which, they feared, would keep them from completing their holy, moral and spiritual mission. So also it is with “WOKE” Catholics: There tombstone has been rolled back—“God is with us”—and, on this Easter Sunday, the God who has promised always to be with us in the Risen Lord.

Then, too, as the women approached the tomb, two angels dressed in luminous white inquired of them, “Why do you seek the living among the dead?” (Luke 24:5). At first, the women were stopped dead in their tracks and, we were told, “frightened, [they] bowed their faces to the ground” (Luke 24:5). They didn’t possess the courage to look straight at the angels.

The question challenged the women to think through why they preferred to remain huddled within their limitations, shortcomings, and failures, cowering in their fears, gloom, and embarrassment as well as closed up within…all the while feeling in control yet alone in the terrifying darkness of their discouragement and hopelessness. Had the women kept looking downward, they’d have not allowed the angels’ light to break through the darkness and missed the point that while no earthly power could roll away the tombstone and rather than give in to discouragement and hopelessness. But, straightening themselves up and looking straight into the light,  they saw with their own eyes—witnessed in their personal experience—that “God is with us” opening to them the way to fulfill their holy, moral and religious mission.

“This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad!” because Easter is the feast of those tombstones that God has rolled back—the obstacles that cause us to become discouraged and hopeless—before our hopes and expectations come crashing from the heavens and down to earth due to fear, sin, the ways of this world, and ultimately, death. Easter is the day reminding us that when we—as “WOKE” Catholics”—don’t allow the tombstone to be an impediment and move forward toward the luminous light, the darkness of death dissipates as we encounter the “living stone,” the “God who is with us,” the Risen Lord (1 Peter 2:4).

Having worked assiduously to leave behind being “sleepy” Catholics this past season of Lent, recall how we’ve been tempted to lull ourselves back to sleep as well as to allow impediments to keep us from fulfilling the holy, moral and spiritual mission for which God has created us. Yet, moving forward from this Easter Sunday, as we construct each day upon the “living stone” even when we grow discouraged and hopeless, disheartened and tempted to judge everything in the light of our failures, our personal experience has taught us this past Lent that “God is with us” and continues to make all things new by overturning every earthly power—every tombstone—that would otherwise cause us discouragement that, in turn, would lead us to be hopeless.

“This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad” by recommitting ourselves each day of this Easter Octave to be “WOKE” Catholics. Let us seek for the next eight days to rediscover the Risen Lord who rolls back from our heart the two heaviest of tombstones of earthly existence: Discouragement and hopelessness.

Discouragement arises when we conclude that everything is going very badly and believe it couldn’t possibly get worse, causing us to lose heart because we conclude that, in the end, death is stronger than life. This breeds in us a cynical, negative, and despondent attitude and, in this way, we pile tombstone upon tombstone, further blocking the entrance to our hearts, making it all but impossible for God’s luminous light to break through the darkness—our hearts having become lifeless sepulchers. Filling each day with a succession of complaints, we grow sick in spirit, as what Pope Francis calls a “tomb psychology” rules us to the point we believe everything ends right there with no hope of every emerging alive.

For its part, temptation seduces us by promising the things of this world—like success and prosperity through wealth, a career, pride, and pleasure—both easily and quickly, “quick and dirty” it’s said. Yet, reflecting upon the destination and not the promise, all that’s left in the wake of all these worldly things is hopelessness that’s experienced in loneliness, alienation, and death. All of us know this from personal experience: We’ve been lured to look for happiness in things that give us transient and passing happiness, each of which promises life but ultimately morphs into tombstones blocking the entrance to our heart, keeping God’s luminous light from breaking through the darkness and breeding in us what ends in hopelessness: loneliness, alienation, and death.

This past Lent, those of us who strove to become “WOKE” Catholics learned to empty ourselves, confident and hopeful we’d no longer live for those earthly things so that, when we were tempted, we learned to prefer the true light—“Emmanuel.” And for those of us for whom “This [isn’t] the day the Lord has made, let us be glad and rejoice!”, this is the moment—right now—when today’s gospel asks, “Why do you persist in seeking the living among the dead?” because the Risen Lord isn’t found in discouragement and hopelessness. As the angel said to the women:

He is risen; he is not there. Don’t seek him where you will never find him: He is not the God of the dead but of the living. (Mark 22:32)

For those of us who worked assiduously to be “WOKE” Catholics this past Lent, the “sepulcher of death” has become the “sepulcher of hope” as the luminous light of Easter Sunday—not that of two millennia ago but today. God has rolled the tombstone back and the light is spreading through and breaking up the darkness, making it possible for us to “lift up our hearts to the Lord” because it is “right and just, our duty and our salvation, always and everywhere to give thanks to the Lord our God.”

In her poem, “We Never Know How High We Are,” Emily Dickinson wrote:

We never know how high we are

Till we are called to rise

And then if we are true to plan

Our statures touch the skies.

This Easter Sunday, the Risen Lord beckons us to get up from our sleep, to rise, to look up, and to realize that God has created each of us not for earth but heaven, not for the depths of death but the heights of eternal life.

So, why persist in seeking the living among the dead?

The challenge today’s gospel presents us is to view life as God views it, the luminous light piercing through the crag in the tombstone and straight into the heart, revealing what’s hidden in the darkness. It’s neither discouragement or hopelessness nor their inevitable end, death, but the courage and hope by which God seeks to revive the hearts of His beloved children.

Along with the Risen Lord today is our “Pasch”—the “Passover” from desolation to consolation, from fear to confidence, from disappointment and hopelessness, and from harsh judgment to heartfelt love for sinners. “Do not be terrified or look down at your feet in shame,” the angels said. “This is the day the Lord has made, let us rejoice and be glad” because God loves each and every one of us even when we don’t love ourselves because we’ve frittered our days away, filling them with discouragement and hopelessness, with anguish, abandonment, death and, yes, even Hell. The Risen Lord has passed through it all and has emerged triumphant from behind the tombstone.

No longer gaze upon the ground and cower in fear, but raise your eyes up so your stature will touch the sky! Don’t look for the living among the dead but allow your love to be unfailing by reaching out to others however much they make a mess of things.

Like the women in today’s gospel, our challenge upon awaking each day of the Easter Octave is to conduct a memento mori by recalling what the angels told the women:

Remember what he told you while he was still in Galilee. The Son of Man must be delivered over to the hands of sinners, be crucified and on the third day be raised again. (Luke 24:6-7)

Recalling this—the Lord has risen from the dead—we won’t become discouraged or lose hope by living a “tombstone psychology” where, as “sleepy” Catholics we return to the cold, dark, and lonely tomb of daily life where we mire ourselves in the rot of the past by continuously calling to mind all those regrets, hurts, and others’ sins. Instead, our memento mori will challenge us to recommit ourselves each morning this week with all our mind and heart to be “WOKE” Catholics who continuously strive to experience “Emmanuel” personally in the Risen Lord who has promised to be with us always until the end of the earth.

This is the day the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad!

Indeed, God surprises us each day us by rolling back the tombstone we’ve allowed to block our hearts and now threatens to keep us from returning in haste to Galilee to announce the Good News. Opting no longer to linger in a tomb but going forth from it into each day this Easter Octave knowing that God isn’t an abstract idea but a personal experience of “Emmanuel,” the “God who is with us,” when we fall short, as each of us surely will given our fallible nature, let us heed the advice of the angels to the women:

Recall what he said while he was in Galilee.