Our Lenten journey has now brought us to our annual celebration of the Lord's Passion, Death and Resurrection.  As we begin Holy week, I want to offer a meditation on how Christ's very act of dying, casts new light on the meaning of life, death and human suffering.

It strikes me that most of us are not afraid of death itself as much as we are afraid of the process of dying.  How can we explain human suffering and pain?  Why is it that so many people find the prospect of assisted suicide or euthanasia to be an attractive solution?  Could it be that we are troubled by the prospect of weeks, months, and even years of intense pain?  If we were able to choose our way of dying, most of us would prefer a death that would be painless and quick.

No one likes pain – be it physical, emotional, spiritual or psychological, be it our own personal suffering or sharing in the trauma of a loved family member or friend.  Pain is no pleasant.  Christian spirituality does not attempt to offer an easy solution to the mystery of human pain or suffering, nor foes it teach that pain is to be sought after for its own sake.  Rather, it seeks to give us hope and confidence precisely in the midst of our pain and struggles.

In our Judeo-Christian tradition, we profess belief in God as a good and loving Creator; all creation reflects His Goodness and love.  Some evils-such as war and violence-are clearly of human origin.  But how can we reconcile a loving God with so many natural evils, disasters and sufferings?  Part of an answer is that in the risk of creating, God allows the elements of nature to run their course and at times, there will be storms and physical deterioration of our bodies, etc.  Some suffering is an unavoidable part of all life.

This Holy week meditation is entitled "Dying, You Destroyed Our Death, " one of the acclamations used as our communal response to the presence of Christ's dying that Christ brought us new life, hope and meaning.  Even though he prayed that He might be delivered from the agony of that process, He was willing to tread the pathway of the Cross out of love for His Father and for us.

Since our childhood, we all have been taught to say Christ redeemed us "by His Cross". Actually, that is not quite accurate: What we should say, more precisely, is that Christ redeemed us by His obedience – an obedience that expressed itself to the extreme limit of dying on the Cross.  Adam's sin of disobedience - closing himself to the presence and love of God - brought death in the first place.  Christ's obedience-His total openness to the Father – brought us eternal life.  It was not simply His death that saved us, but the very way that He died.

The same is true for us.  How often have we witnessed many different kinds of deaths – some very peaceful and inspiring, and others full of bitterness and regret.  The difference lies in one's own disposition in the face of death:  Do we accept it with resignation and hope, seeing it as passage or transition to a new way of living or do we rebel against death because it represents the ultimate lack of control over our own destiny?

This week we consider that Christ freely chose to cooperate with the plan of His Father.  The very word we use to describe this process of His dying and rising is the term "the Passion." This word literally means "the handing over" of Jesus by His Father.  Jesus, for His part, allowed Himself to be taken prisoner and crucifies as a common criminal even though He was innocent.  He did so because He was firmly convinced that His destiny or purpose was to be the Suffering Servant.

The Letter to the Hebrews – a passage that we will read on Good Friday – reminds us that this obedience of Christ did not come readily or easily: "Son though He was, He learned obedience from what He suffered …" (Hebrew 5:8)

Jesus Christ became our Redeemer not because  He was spared pain and suffering but because He was like us in all things but sin.  He was willing to endure every human question, fear, humiliation, suffering and sense of abandonment.  It would be hard to imagine any worse suffering, pain or way of dying than that of Christ.  Jesus plunged Himself into the depths of human suffering and spoke with all His heart words of unconditional love and total self-giving to the Father.

The image of Christ Crucified is part of the answer to the mystery of human pain and suffering.  In a world where we do everything possible to shield and insulate ourselves from pain, Christ teaches us – precisely by His dying – that life finds its fullest and richest meaning and purpose in the very act of giving our lives over to our gracious God who in Jesus Christ will not allow suffering or death to destroy us.

Most of us are willing to endure anything in life if we believe that it has a meaning, value or purpose – even if we are not able to see immediate results.  In cases where death seems inevitable, and pain – physically, spiritually and psychologically – is so intense, we can readily ask: "Why would God want us to continue to suffer this way?"  From a merely human perspective, such pain can seem endless and pointless.  Still worse, if we are the one suffering, we can begin to think of ourselves as a burden to others. Likewise, due to physical and emotional exhaustion, caregivers may even each the point of resenting a loved one.

In the face of such situations, we can find consolation and peace by considering Christ's dying process.  At the very moment of His most intense human weakness, limitation, pain and emptiness, Jesus revealed most powerfully and directly the mystery of God's presence.  In the very act of stretching out His arms on the wood of the Cross, Jesus, though innocent, atoned for the sin of the whole human race.  He saved, healed, redeemed and transformed not just a few, but all people as the Suffering Servant of God.

The same is true for us who believe in Him. Those who freely accept the dying process have much to offer us. They are actually serving us!  They teach us the value and meaning of life. Their prayer for forgiveness of sins is a powerful force for themselves and for all people.

Meditating in the mystery and paradox, St. Paul even went so far as to say that he rejoiced in his suffering for the sake of His Body, the Church. (Colossians 1:24) Whenever Christians choose to absorb human pain or suffering, they share in Christ's Paschal Mystery and cooperate in the ongoing process of the world's redemption.

There are many different kinds of suffering and pain, what immediately comes to mind, of course, is physical pain.  But, as we all know, many times the spiritual of psychological pain challenges us most intensely.  Consider not only the terrible suffering of losing a loved one, but also the suffering of those persecuted unjustly.  Consider also those who suffer lack of respect and human dignity because of race, unemployment or physical disabilities.

In all these situations, Christian faith finds hope and consolation in proclaiming that we do not need to drink this cup alone; others share our suffering in service and prayer.  Just as our suffering can build up the whole Body of Christ, so too, the rest of Christ's Body can help us to accept our own burdens.  We give and receive constantly.  That is why we are a Eucharistic people.

The Holy Eucharist – whose institution we commemorate on Holy Thursday – makes present and powerful in our midst the Lord's Passover from Death to Resurrection.  In every Eucharist, we proclaim that His Death has brought us life and nourishment, freedom and hope.  In the broken and the cup poured out, we see enacted and renewed the mystery of Christ dying and rising for us.  WE believe that having once given Himself, He will never take back this gift.  We likewise believe that the fragments of the Eucharist and of our broken lives will never be lost or wasted.  We trust that they will become part of a great mosaic which we cannot yet see from our limited and immediate perspective.

Christ's example of self-giving in the Eucharist teaches us that we are made to die. It shows us that in the very process of dying, we can acknowledge most fully the mystery of what life really is – the gift of god flowing through us back to Him.  Embracing death can be a final act of worship of God, our Creator and Redeemer.

In our Easter vigil celebration, we proclaim that the same Christ who went down into death has now been raised. He brings us new life as individuals and as His Body. Even more, His action challenges us to recommit ourselves to our Baptismal promises to die and rise with Him.  As we allow the mystery of life and death to run its course through us, miracles can happen and life finds new meaning.  Jesus Christ, who was raised by the Father, reveals a God whose love is strong enough to transform our death into the unimagined future of the Resurrection when every tear will be wiped from our eyes.

Consider the devoted way that so many families and friends accompany loved ones right to the end of their life's journey.  Consider also the extended community of faith who brings them the Lord's Eucharistic and healing presence day in and day out.  Consider the beautiful way hospice workers bridge the loneliness and isolation of dying.  During these final, precious moments, family, friends and caregivers are often themselves changes and renewed.

Many of us spend so much time and energy trying to be in control of every situation in our lives.  Ironically, we are not free when we live so compulsively.  Only by facing our fears and sufferings directly, will we know and understand the full mystery of God's gift of life.

As we contemplate the Passion of the Lord Jesus this week, and proclaim, "Dying, You Destroyed Our Death", let us remember how He freely gave Himself over to the process of dying.  Let us unite our prayers and sacrifices of this week with all who suffer in body, mind or spirit.  In this way we will truly become the risen Body of Christ.