Son though he was, he learned obedience from what he suffered; and when he was made perfect, he became the source of eternal salvation for all who obey him. (Hebrews 5:8-9)
I missed a much-anticipated opportunity today. This made me
think of the opportunities to protect the created order that you and I could
miss at this critical time in human history.
His Eminence Sean Cardinal O’Malley had invited members of
the Equestrian Order of the Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem, of which I am
invested, to attend Good Friday services at the Cathedral of the Holy Cross in Boston . I was ready to go
but family obligations gave me a late start and traffic congestion added
another forty minutes to the journey. In hindsight, I should have anticipated both.
I turned back about twenty minutes after I should have
arrived because I still had another twenty or thirty or however many more
minutes left. And one does not arrive that late to such liturgies.
I could have planned better. But I didn’t and a wonderful
opportunity was missed.
Regret is fitting for Good Friday. And so I thanked God at
my own parish services tonight for the opportunity to experience a little
uncorrectable, humiliating remorse. In doing so, it helped me spiritually connect with the
Passion of Our Lord, who suffered infinite loss, shame, and agony so that
payment of an eternal dept could be made—so that the cosmos could balance its
juridical scales and allow us safe passage to freedom from sin and death.
In comparison, my despair was infinitesimal. But my regret
made me consider what could be terrible regret if those of us alive today do
not plan better, live simpler, love more profoundly, and heed the warnings of
the modern prophets—those who speak of spiritual hunger and those who speak of
accelerating earthly devastation.
There is a (not as famous as it should be) painting of Good
Friday that peers into the events of Christ’s Passion from an unusual but
appropriate angle. “The Return from Calvary ”
by Herbert Schmaltz (1856-1935) depicts a devastated Mary supported by her
son’s disciples as they walk home. Some look back over Jerusalem
towards Calvary as the sun sets behind it.
Their postures and expressions indicate grim, confused anguish. They are stunned at the day’s sequence
of events. They
seem to be wondering what they could have done differently to have had the sun
set on different circumstances.
This Good Friday—and the daylight of Holy Saturday—should be a time to ponder the reality of regret. For Catholic ecologists, it should be especially a time to think well of the losses that are at this moment in our power to prevent.
Here, of course, my analogy ends: The crucifixion of Christ comes
with theological realities related to salvation. There is nothing that the disciples could have done to
prevent the cup of sacrifice being given to Christ by His Father in Heaven.
But in our own lives, free will gives us choices. It allows
us to steer our paths to one end or another—or at least try. This is especially
so for our work in environmental protection. More accurately, this is
especially true in how we live our lives and how close we stay to the grace
that poured forth from that Cross. In choosing life and God’s grace (and only in doing so), we can end
our days with far less regret than we might see without choosing wisely.
Christ’s death brought salvation. Death and extinction within
nature’s tapestry of life, however, will bring us—and every generation after us—only judgment
and suffering.
Let us, then, lift high the Cross and ponder its message. Let us pray in earnest so that, by the grace of God, we can act with renewed
fervor for the protection of creation—the natural order that God has given to
us to use wisely and nurture.
Let our personal and cultural sins not have the last word in how we plan our days, weeks, and the years ahead.
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