March 26, 2016

"For if we have grown into union with him through a death like his, 
we shall also be united with him in the resurrection." (Rom 6:5)

There are two different types of silence:

There is a silence of death, which casts out hope, and there is a silence of hope which casts out death.  

Unfortunately many people only get to experience the first type of silence, the deadly silence which makes hours endless, sufferings everlasting, sorrows unbearable. If you have ever lost someone you loved before coming to know Christ, you know this silence very well, there is no space for hope here, nor there is a waiting list for better days, just pure dark nights.  I have also heard this silence in the city, in the crowds of people walking and rushing their way to work, waiting for the train, or avoiding the sounds of life by attaching earphones to their ears, everyone seems to be in their own world listening to their own sounds, walking their own way, avoiding eye contact.  I heard this silence in the poor but also in the rich, where material goods whether you lack them or not are the only pathways to happiness. I have heard this silence in my own eyes sometimes, when I look at myself in the mirror and reject my own crosses with such disgust allowing death to take upon me, casting out hope. 

On the other side, there is the silence of hope, a sacred silence, the silence of the tomb. Such pure silence casts out death, like the silence of an infant sleeping, in the peace of his rest, in the fullness of his life, in the vulnerability of his littleness, it makes the world stop as he dreams new dreams, with no prior memories but the light in which he was created. I have heard this silence in the eyes of many religious brothers and sisters and in the laughs of the youth discovering Christ. I hear this silence when I am absolved from my sins through confession and in the words of a priest raising up the Host and proclaiming “This is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world”.  A silence that casts out death.

We choose which tomb and which silence we can live by. 

Sit in front of an empty tabernacle, in the silence of this tomb, you can pray to the air and await no response if you think Jesus has left, or watch as the darkness reigns no more when you realize Jesus never left, he just came out to pray with you.

For the world an empty tomb represents death, hopelessness, and sadness, because when see an empty tomb in a cemetery, we know it will soon be closed, it needs a corpse to be fulfilled, it must meet death to become a real tomb…otherwise an empty tomb is useless. Pray for those whose lives are empty tombs. 

For us, Catholics, seekers of the truth, and believers of the beautiful Paschal mystery of Christ, an empty tomb is not useless, on the contrary and empty tomb is already fulfilled. In the name of Christ an empty tomb represents life, what will come to be, what has been promised, what has been offered to us since the minute the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world expired and in his last breath look up to the skies and said “Father into your hands I commend my spirit” and thus the Word that became flesh met silence, the silence of the tomb...the silence of our darkest night.

Oh Silent Night! What a great gift we can take part of today as we will cry out “Alleluia”.

Oh Holy Night! A loud symphony that unites us not only to Christ's death but also to his resurrection when all will be bright, when all will be calm. 

Oh Silent Night! A Marian silence, a mysterious silence which defines happiness,  a life-giving silence meant to be brought to others and kept in our hearts until eternity. 

St. Joseph, whose silence in the gospel made you a witness to true happiness and fulfillment through Christ, 

Pray for us. 

Frassati NY