The past two weeks have been weighty. Heavy. Hard. And it’s not because tragedy has struck my immediate family. It’s because everywhere I turn, people are hurting and I feel helpless. Iraqi Christians are being murdered. My brothers and sisters in Iraq are being brutally killed because of their faith and what am I doing? I’m drinking a cup of coffee and using my MacBook Air. And that makes me feel ill.
Then there’s Ferguson, MO. And I don’t even know where to start with that. I don’t feel like I know how to navigate the situation at all or wrap my head around what’s going on and what the facts are amidst all the confusion. But is this really happening? In my country? In 2014?
And sure, I didn’t personally know Robin Williams. But I was saddened by his tragic death and the pain of the many people suffering through depression and all the hurt that his suicide brought to the forefront.
Then there’s been a couple of things that have hit close to home. A friend of my husband’s from high school/college passed away last week. She was our age, but she had Stage 4 cancer. We didn’t even know she was sick.
Then came the news that a beloved friend lost her baby. Her third miscarriage in the past year. I cried tears of joy when she told us she was pregnant and showed us the ultrasound photos. The baby we’ve been praying for! I was waiting for an update from a new ultrasound while we were hiking around a mountain on our family reunion/vacation last week. I kept trying to get wifi so I could check FB and when I did, she told us that the baby had passed away. I burst into tears at the top of that mountain trying to hide my face in my 14 month old daughter’s hair while I covered her with kisses. Not this. Not after all they’ve been through. Not this baby. Please, no. And here I am on vacation holding this beautiful little girl. Why? It’s not fair. But what can I do but hold my baby tighter and weep? Helpless.
I couldn’t sleep so I stayed up late just praying into my pillow. What do I DO with all of this, Lord?
And the answer was not what I expected: Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song. It’s something St. John Paul II said. And I think about it on Easter Sunday and then forget about it for the rest of the year.
But this is not a hallelujah kind of time.
Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.
That sounded too happy clappy and absurd in the face of atrocity, pain, death, and tragedy. You can’t just slap a smile on and go about your day. But as it sunk in, I realized it’s not an exhortation to superficiality. It’s a statement about our identity.
Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.
We are the Easter people. We are the people touched by the Resurrection.
If that’s who we are, what does that mean? For us. Today.
It means hope. We are the Easter people standing on the anchor of Christ, our Living Hope.
We are the Easter people. And when it feels like Good Friday, we have hope in Easter Sunday. Not because the pain and suffering will go away. But because He has already come and He has already conquered.
Because God loves us, allowed himself to be made flesh so that he could walk on this dirty, messy, painful world and suffer for us and with us. And He is victorious. And somehow that changes everything. Because He has not left us alone. He has given us himself and each other.
Do not abandon yourselves to despair. We are the Easter people and hallelujah is our song.
But what does that mean about how we should think and act and live?
St. Mary Magdalene is my patron saint. And while I was thinking over all these things, I thought about her running from the empty tomb to tell the good news of Christ’s Resurrection. To share that the time for despair is over. Because Our Hope is risen from the dead. She had seen Him, heard his voice.
What do the Easter people do in the face of despair, suffering, death, injustice, and tragedy?
We don’t just stand there.
We go. We run. We act like people with hope. Not because we think the world isn’t broken, but because we have been asked to participate in redeeming it.
We are not supposed to sit helplessly. We should grieve with those who are suffering. We should prayer for the hurting. We should give of our funds, our time, and our energy to make a change, no matter how small. We should speak up. We should notice a need and meet it. We should cry with the grieving. We are not helpless.
I’m challenging myself to stop being paralyzed by despair and to act like one of the Easter people. To do one small thing today to show a broken world that God has not abandoned it. To not be overwhelmed by how small I am and how little I can accomplish. But to pick up the phone. To cook a meal. To give the small bit I can. To love well.
In Dead Poet’s Society, Robin Williams’ character quotes Walt Whitman:
“…the powerful play goes on, and you may contribute a verse.”
I’m not sure what Whitman would say, but I think the powerful play is the cosmic story of a perfect God’s enduring and scandalous love for a broken humanity. And what will our verse be? We are the Easter people, and hallelujah is our song.
Image credit: James Emery via flickr
Please consider donating to the Catholic Near East Welfare Association to help our brothers and sister in Iraq.
Thank you so much for this post. I have been really struggling with this lately. This is exactly what I needed.
Take care,
Angela
From a textual standpoint, giving the passive voice to the song is a fascinating choice – “we sing hallelujah” would be the active grammatical phrasing. But the way this is phrased, the Easter people are always singing, and that song is hallelujah, which is praise for the Lord, correct? So no matter what you are doing, that act simply can be a song of praise, because this is how you define your identity. It requires deep faith and devotion to sing praise, constantly, even when there is so much grief. It’s easy to praise when we are in a joyful mood.
That’s really insightful, Anne-Marie. Thanks for sharing!
What a powerful post. Thank you, Haley.
Yesterday’s readings really resonate with your message:
“The word of the LORD came to me:
Son of man, by a sudden blow
I am taking away from you the delight of your eyes,
but do not mourn or weep or shed any tears.
Groan in silence, make no lament for the dead,
bind on your turban, put your sandals on your feet,
do not cover your beard, and do not eat the customary bread.” EZ 24:15-23
My husband and I were just talking about the Iraqui situation and I asked my husband if my children would be fighting a war against Satan’s armies? But then I read the readings and prayed for peace in them and I realized what you are saying, that yes, some Christians will be called to martyrdom in this “purge”, and that we need to pray for them to have faith in Jesus until the last and to unite themselves to his Calvary. But that in fact this battle has already been won, and that we ought to carry on with joy and confidence in our victory. That in fact the tumult of the world around us, as our Lord tells us in Ezekiel, “I will now desecrate my sanctuary, the stronghold of your pride,
the delight of your eyes, the desire of your soul.
The sons and daughters you left behind shall fall by the sword”, is in fact the fulfillment of self destruction caused by sin and that when Our Lord has completed His task, his Kingdom will have new meaning in the world.
I feel so much as you do, Haley. We’ve been having some small issues (someone backed into my husband’s car last week and never stopped….so we get to pay for the damage, ugh!) but compared to all the horrendous things that seem to be constantly going on in the world, I know I dont have much to complain about.
Not having much in the ways of funds, I know I do have painting. I just sold a painting for this very cause the other day and it feels good. I know its not a lot, but its something, and if we all do a little ‘something’ it can lead to great things!
I love that, Heather.
Great, great post.
It’s hard to keep that hope- that Biblical hope, the hope that doesn’t fail or disappoint. When I get upset about the state of our country, of our world, I try to remind myself that kingdoms and countries come and go, cultures disappear, but God’s promise is eternal. Just look at the Bible- all the wars and exiles and destruction seems far away and not so terrible because we know the next chapter of that story. But can you imagine living it? Knowing God’s promises and trying to cling to them in *this* moment, when we can’t see the next thing… that’s hard.
The last paragraph gave me chills. Thank you for your reflection.
Haley – this is beautiful. Just beautiful.
Beautiful reflection! I needed to hear this today for sure. The world seems so dark. As I was looking around today trying to figure out what to do with all of this, I realized my daughter had pulled Saint Faustinas diary off the bookshelf in one of her ‘take all the books off the shelf’ rampages. I’m planning on picking it up, the Hallelujah song is found in the message of Divine Mercy, it is because of His Mercy that we can stand and sing Hallelujah and know that in the end He will reign. Thank you so much for writing this today!
The “take all the books off the shelf” rampages…..oh, I know those so well 😉
Beautiful. Thank you.
What a beautiful and powerful reflection, Haley. Thank you!
It’s strange. There are so many sad and tragic news stories cropping up everywhere right now (of course, it’s always happening, but it seems like more than usual lately). I’ve read lots of blog posts by people suffering from unusually extreme trials in their lives right now. And in my own life, the list of friends and family who are suffering or dying just seems to be getting longer.
I wasn’t sure how to comprehend all these tragedies either, but I think you’re right. We don’t necessarily have to understand pain to “participate in redeeming it.” Instead of trying to find reasons for the suffering, I can focus on bringing hope to the people affected. Maybe that was the challenge God meant for me to see in this all along! 🙂
“We don’t necessarily have to understand pain to “participate in redeeming it.” Instead of trying to find reasons for the suffering, I can focus on bringing hope to the people affected.”
Yes! That. And I agree. So many awful things seem to all be happening at once.
Haley, this is beautiful. That quote is one of my all-time favorites, but I don’t often think of it outside Easter season. So thank you for the reminder.
One thing that helps me is to remember that despair never comes from God. Never ever ever. So when I feel completely overwhelmed by it, I remember who is whispering in my ear and it’s easier to reject.
Oh, that’s a good point, Micaela: “despair never comes from God. Never ever ever.”
Thank you for this post. I’m newly postpartum and feeling a little weighed down by fears and worries–this verse will be running through my head in the weeks to come. <3
Prayers for you, Margaret! Those first days are hard. <3
Thank you Haley I need this reminder today. I truly did.
I think in the coming days I am going to try to sing Hallelujah a bit more rather than keep asking “why me?”
Thank you, Haley! Words have been stuck in my head, but I’ve been feeling similarly. I whine about how I don’t feel at home in Phoenix and I’m tired of the stories my husband comes home with of the dangers he faces at work every day, but he’s come home, to the home we own, each night. Coming from an LEO family, the Ferguson news is especially challenging. I feel silly and selfish when I think of whining about my life compared to horror of life in the middle east. I’ve been to Iraq and it all seems surreal. Then I read all the stories about the destruction of babies in my school books and I feel ill. Then M looses her baby and I feel guilty that Emi’s empty sac ultrasound grew her just weeks apart from M’s first loss. why? I cried on the couch. Why did I get my baby when I was expected to lose her?? She turns 1 next month. And after so much prayer and hope, I cried too when I saw that ultrasound…and so many more tears when I saw the news. Then another friend was hospitalized and began immediate treatment for suspected bacterial meningitis, which has a 40% mortality rate within 1-2 days, and she AND her baby would die. I thought I was going to lose them both. I burst into tears in my kitchen. It was meningitis, but it was viral and the baby seems OK. So many tears this week. I’ve turned even more to prayer as I fight to be strong and confident and do what I can to live faithfully and be an example of love for those suffering.
<3 You have such a beautiful heart, Michaela.
No matter what kiddo, I’m glad Emi is here. =)
Haley, this was just what I needed to read this morning. The world feels out of control and we are carrying heaviness at home as well, and the melancholic in me can tend towards despair. But your encouraging words reminded me of a quote from Blessed Mother Teresa that I have always loved: “Let nothing so fill you with sorrow that you forget the joy of Christ risen.” Thank you for the reminder to run every day like the women from the empty tomb.
That is beautiful, Laura. I am so, so glad that this post encouraged you! <3
I needed to read this something fierce. Thank you.
Beautiful reflection. THANK YOU FOR THIS!!!
Thank you for this post, Haley. It’s such a great reminder to trust that our Lord will guide us in our charity and compassion.
Oh, how I needed to hear in those words. I have been in so much despair over the past few weeks and it has threatened to consume me time and again. I have felt as though I had lost all hope, but this has helped more than you know!
All the more that we can cry Hallelujah! It was after all the battle cry of victory.
Thanks for this, Haley. I’ve been reading your blog for a while, but this is really the first time I’ve felt the need to actually thank you for your writing. This really hit home and summarized so much of what I’ve been feeling. My husband has a bumper sticker of this quote, so I see it everyday, but you applied the meaning behind it so well to our aching world. God bless!
Thank you so much for stopping to say hello, Hillary! <3
I loved this post. I’ve been weighed down with many of the same world events and blogged about it too. Powerless has been the word that’s come to mind, but I’m reminding myself to hope in God (Ps. 42) and do small things with great love.
Thank you, Danielle. And how have I never seen your blog? It’s just lovely. And I want you to come over this afternoon and teach me how to take beautiful photos! <3
This post is a balm to my weary soul. Thank you, and God bless you and your family.
Love this! A fierce, yet hopeful post is just what so many of us needed to hear. Thank you for crying out against the darkness!
I have really been needing this reminder lately!
Thank you for this. It was more timely and needed than you know.
I just came across your blog a few weeks ago, and I’m so grateful for this post (in addition to so many others). After leaving my job to stay home with my son, I’ve started pondering questions of faith and family much more intensely. As a closeted Catholic (is that a thing?), this was the first Catholic blog post I’ve shared on social media, and a few days ago, I actually cited your blog as one of my current “lights in the darkness,” so to speak. Powerful words. Thank you!
A beautiful and much needed post. Thanks for putting it into such powerful words.
This. Yes. Thank you so much, Haley.
Haley, this is exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you for the beautiful reflection. Sending so many prayers your way! …especially for your poor friend who lost her baby. St. Gerard, pray for us!
Linked to this in my blog today, such a wonderful post!
Thank you! I have been despairing lately and this really moved me and gave me some hope.
I just tweeted this. I remembered reading it last summer and thought it was especially appropriate today.
Thank you so much! Thank you for your words of hope and wisdom! Thank you after two years of you writing this it will always remain relevant for us all in the years ahead! Thank you!
From a struggling Rev!