The Dark Night

Orig: 04/09/09

I want to share with you one final Lenten thought – (well two, if you want to read the attachment I wrote last night).

This morning I read the paper – ugh!! It made even the breakfast I was eating taste bad. After I went home, I relaxed and tried to get in a better mood – when suddenly a thought came to me that I hadn’t had in probably 20 years or more: Easter Lamb cake. And I picked up the phone book and began calling bakeries. The nearest one having the cake was about 10 miles away, so I began driving.

Easter Lamb cake is a yellow-batter cake, shaped like a lamb and covered in white – powdered sugar or frosting. As a kid, I remember taking the cake to church, along with other foods, to be blessed on Holy Saturday, and then eaten Easter Sunday morning. We usually fasted from sweets during Lent – ok, sometimes perhaps the fast was only for the Easter weekend – but as kids we were aware of our sacrifice. Then, Easter Sunday morning, as we had coffee and a piece of the cake for breakfast, we were reminded of the Lamb, now all covered in white, and what it all meant. And because of our fast, the lamb tasted sooooo sweet. So sweet. Like the horrible suffering of Good Friday passed to the sweet happiness of that first Easter Sunday. I thought of all those things as I was driving. And in the car I had on a CD of Andrea Bocelli singing Sacred Arias. If you have never heard a glorious tenor voice singing Latin hymns in a church, you are missing a major lesson in how to love God. As a child, and in the car this morning, when I heard singing like this, I knew the singing was not entertainment, but one man giving beautiful praise to God, and I marveled at his love. And so as I sat at every stop light on my way to the bakery I looked over at the person in the next car talking on their cell phone, and if they would have looked at me, they would have seen me crying, just like I did when I heard those beautiful hymns as a child.

What a wonderful morning I had.

The morning had started out sad, even irritating, but it only took one nice thought to change all that. So, you Michiganders, stop now and take a moment to look outside at the bright sun and clear blue sky. Smile! Doesn’t God love us so? And if it’s raining where you’re at, look at the plants with their green buds; beauty is coming! Even if you are going through some tough times right now, with your 401k, with your spouse, with your kids, even with your God – you can change that almost immediately by thinking of the good things we have been blessed with in the past. And now? Now is the time that never stops, keeps on changing. And one good day in the not distant future you may stop and think of THIS day, but you will not dwell on it, except to briefly marvel at how something which seemed so bad can quickly pass. And like Easter Sunday, life can – and will – be glorious.

Have faith.


The Dark Night

A friend told me that when she contemplated the First Sorrowful Mystery of the rosary, The Agony in the Garden, she felt it the saddest and most troubling of the all mysteries. Jesus, praying alone, terror and agony facing him, thinking of the possibility of His rejecting it still, to say no to the coming pain and death, and yet knowing he could not. It IS sad and troubling. He sweats blood in his agony. Surely this was a most terrible time for Him. My friend and I agreed this might be worse than physical pains, that once you set your mind to accept it even the pains of the scourging or the crucifixion might be bearable – some saints have proven to be up to accepting a similar fate. But I disagree with her that the Agony in the Garden was the worst part of Jesus’ Passion.

I view the Crowning of Thorns to be worse. Oh not the pains of the crowning, but all the rest that happened in conjunction with it, late that first Holy Thursday night. Even in the garden, Jesus had known human comfort was nearby, at his call. He could go and get a hug. But later that Thursday night, he was alone with his torturers, and alone with his mind. There was pain and discomfort with the thorns, no doubt, but he also must have thought about what was to happen in the morning. And he had much time to think about it. Alone. No hugs possible this night. He might have distracted himself from the next day by thinking of the past. He’d want to remember the good things, but I’m sure a grim reality crushed his soul. The one to whom he had entrusted the keys of the kingdom betrayed him, even though he had given him warning. The others never even got that close after the garden. They ran. And what of the adoring crowds on Palm Sunday? They yelled “crucify him”. All the miracles, all the explanations, all the examples he gave -- would anyone remember them? Would anyone remember him? Was his life and all his efforts just a waste? Did anyone care? Were the soldiers who mocked him with the crown to be the summary of his memory – a joke? I think it was there in the dungeon that Jesus cried in his soul, not in the garden, or even at the pillar. And they were not tears because of the physical pain. They were tears of darkness. Of being totally alone. Totally forgotten. Even if he knew in his heart that that wasn’t true, the Father promised him so, still, looking around him in the darkness, the physical surroundings must have been overwhelming. And it made him very sad. To me, this is the worst pain.

Alone; I can understand that feeling.

I now stay up through the night on Holy Thursdays. I think of those going through their own dark nights now. They know of God’s call, and they commit to it – and then hear nothing. Alone. It’s hard for them to find solace in the glory and heaven that is to come, when you feel the deep emotional pains now. I pray for them.

And as I remember Jesus on this Holy Thursday night, his passion and aloneness, I tell him I’m here. I won’t forget him, what he’s going through. He’s not alone. I remember. It’s not much, but I pray it gives him some small solace.

And I try to remember that, when I go through my own dark nights, He returns the favor.

And when those days come to you, my friend, when all you want to do is cry, remember: You are not alone.


P.S. You might want to glance at the meditation on the Sorrowful Mysteries I posted earlier, should you be looking for some appropriate thoughts for tonight.