by Catherine Doherty.
The Gospel of Christ’s Resurrection fills the heart with joy! Our mind nearly stops, because it knows that this news is more astounding than the burning bush in the Old Testament. We not only have to take our shoes off, we have to prostrate ourselves, because the Good News is so holy.
Here is where love triumphs. Christ really died for you and me, and he really rose for you and me, so that we shall rise with him.
A triumphant love song is already beginning. No one knows at what hour his Resurrection took place. But who cares? Sometime during this night Jesus Christ rose from the dead and the whole world was changed.
History changed; everything changed. In our hearts we hear a radiant love song. All nature sings it, if we have ears to hear.
The more I meet people who deny Christ’s Resurrection, the more I sense that, strangely, they deny because they believe. For instance, in Harlem, the Communists came to me every day, trying to tell me that God does not exist.
At the end of three months I said, "Look, day after day you come and drink my coffee and tell me that God does not exist. You must be very worried about God, for if you really believed he doesn’t exist you would not want to talk about him."
God became man so that he might die and resurrect, for his incarnation and even his passion and death wouldn’t amount to anything unless he resurrected.
In Russian, the word for Sunday is "Resurrection"—Voskresenia.
This is the night of nights. This is the apex of the love story.
The first part came to us as the cry of a Child. The second, as the hammering and planing of wood by a carpenter. The third, as a voice—picked up by the megaphone of centuries and brought to us: Christ, the preacher, in his public life. Next came the sound of whips on human flesh and of nails entering that flesh.
Then in the quiet of that night, flame, fire, and song got together, and suddenly God arose.
Christ is risen! In him is my faith, my love; in him I live. He sang us a love song from the moment of his birth to the moment of his death and unto his resurrection.
At the moment of his ascension—which comes soon—he will leave us tokens of his love: first, himself in the celebration of the Eucharist and in the Blessed Sacrament, and in his priests. For he is so in love with us that though he went to the Father, he remained with us. Only God can do that.
Night of nights! It must be a night of such a profound love for one another that we know, through the tremendous mystery of faith, that each one I love is the Lord.
Christ meets Christ. This tremendous surge of love should so fill us that, at least one night in all the year, we might try to love him and one another as he loves us.
—From Season of Mercy, (1996), pp. 116-118, available from MH Publications
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