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I was a teenager a while back. Like many teenagers, I found it hard to imagine my parents or any grown-up as teenagers themselves once. I was a bundle of fear and insecurities at that age while I saw grown-ups as confident and self-assured. I imagined I would get there at some point, say 18 or 20, 25 at the latest, and I would arrive at full maturity in every sense, physically, intellectually, emotionally, spiritually; and people would take me seriously and see that I was a productive and responsible member of society; that I was no longer a child. Then I got involved with high school retreats, and occasionally the adults would comment on the participants being so young. They would joke how old it felt being twice their age. Then it hit me I was over three times their age! Not long ago I was a brand-spanking new priest, ready to serve God’s people, to celebrate the sacraments, to teach the faith, to joyfully witness to God’s compassion, to speak encouragement to the weary and disillusioned, to invite those on the margins to reconciliation and a fuller participation in the life of the church. Then I went to visit someone at the local hospital after hours one time dressed in my clerical shirt, and the security guard demanded identification. It wasn’t my first time. I guess they were new to the job. I imagined the collar said it all. Instead, I had to prove who I was!
Have you ever had to prove who you say you are? Every time we pay by card or digital app, every time we write our social security number, every time we sign on the dotted line, we make a claim to our own identity, credibility, dependability, and responsibility, that I am who I say I am—cross my heart and hope to die. But in this digital age where identity theft is rampant and people everywhere are not as trusting because we are told to be wary of strangers (they may be terrorists, or sexual predators, or illegal aliens), we see a gradual and unfortunate erosion of that instinctive trust we place in the inherent goodness of our neighbor. Yes, the shortcomings of a few have made the rest of us more fearful, more guarded, more suspicious, and it is safer to err on the side of safety. But beyond all the security protocols, beyond biometrics and digital chips and legal documents, I still need to convince myself I am me, and not some impostor or robot or ghost. Am I who I say I am, genuinely, honestly, cross my heart and hope to die? Is my claim of being a Christian and Jesus’ disciple rooted in reality?
Then Jesus stood before them in the upper room even though the doors were locked. “Peace be with you,” he said. They were terrified. They thought he was a ghost. Two among their number had just returned from Emmaus claiming they had seen him. Suddenly, he was standing right there. He showed them his hands and feet, then asked for something to eat. He spoke to them as he always did, with great affection and conviction. He reassured them he was the same Jesus they knew and loved, but that he had experienced a profound transformation. They would be his witnesses, he told them. But they needed to experience a similar transformation themselves, down to the very core of their being.
Just this year, we have all experienced change in some form or other. We are all a year older and hopefully, a year wiser. Think how much you have struggled, how much you’ve grown, all you’ve learned about yourself and how God is at work in your life. You have to admit you are a different person to some degree, hopefully a better person. But we have all had to adjust to accommodate people and things changing in our lives. Change is a sign of life. And life is over when things no longer change. But easter is about change deep within, change that becomes evident in how we live and how we love. If we have been transformed by God’s mercy and healing forgiveness, people will notice it in the way we extend God’s love and compassion to them and to the world.
Peter tells his listeners in the first reading that they shared some responsibility for Christ’s death. He was speaking to some of the people who just days before had sent him to the cross. We were not there but Peter is speaking to us too, because we do today what that crowd did then, when we more eagerly embrace the values of the world over the values of the gospel, when we cling to our misdeeds and indulgence while we turn from self-discipline and faithfulness to our baptism. Then John tells us in the second reading, “we have an Advocate with the Father, who is expiation for our sins, and not for our sins only but for those of the whole world.” We need to own our offenses and weakness. But we need to repent and resolve to do better. And if we desire to remain with him, we must keep his commandments. It is then the love of God is brought to perfection in us. The scriptures do not define the resurrection. But we find evidence of it in the lives of Jesus’ disciples. Our witness to the resurrection will be convincing when the difference is unmistakable between our lives with faith and our lives without faith.
That we might become witnesses of the resurrection as the apostles were, we must first share his experience of suffering, death, and resurrection. Each time we turn from sin and selfishness, each time we support the work of peace and justice, each time we extend ourselves and our resources to welcome the stranger, the poor, the hungry, and the young, each time we make a preference for love and compassion in the face of rejection, ingratitude, and hatred, we are drawn into the mystery of Christ’s suffering, death, and resurrection. And that mystery has power to transform us.
But this transformation is seldom a pleasant experience, mostly because we have no idea what it’s like on the other side until we get there. When students talk about life after school, they speak of dreams and of plans yet to accomplish. Those who know what that’s like know it can be both terrifying and exciting. But we’ve been to the other side, and we know most fears are unfounded. That new life out there will be very different, but if we had paid attention and learned our lessons well, we already possess the tools we need to succeed. And if we embrace transformation, there will be no limit to our success. As disciples of Jesus, we have been taught to be convincing witnesses of God’s mercy to the world. We have been changed by the suffering, death, and resurrection of the Lord. Now we are sent to help with transforming the world. It is all at once terrifying and exciting. That new life out there will be very different, but if we had paid attention and learned our lessons well, we already possess the tools we need to succeed. And if we embrace transformation, there will be no limit to our success.
The apostles were witnesses to the resurrection of Jesus, and the proof was in how they lived and how they loved. Does our way of life give convincing evidence that Jesus is risen from the dead? When we meet people, will they need still more proof?
Rolo B Castillo © 2024