The First Glorious Mystery: The Resurrection

The following is the fourth of twenty monthly reflections about the Mysteries of the Rosary as they relate to family life.  The mysteries will not be necessarily chronological but presented as they interact with the liturgical year.

             I first experienced the sting of death when I was eight years old and my grandfather passed away after a battle with cancer.  So many things about those days have proven more memorable and meaningful than I realized at the time, especially because I had never been through something like that in my life.  One moment in particular that stays with me happened the evening before my grandfather’s funeral.  The wake had taken place, and only my extended family remained at the parish hall.  The adults were all in the kitchen trading stories, tears, and laughter.  My cousins were outside in the yard playing some kind of game together.  At one point, I wondered into the vacant room with my grandfather’s body and took some time to consider everything that had taken place.  I can still remember standing very close to my grandfather, thinking that, if I only prayed hard or willed it enough, he would get up, and this would all be over.  Of course, his body remained motionless, and I left the room with the hard truth of the reality of death.  I did not know what to make of it, and I would spend the night and most of the next day wrestling in confused thoughts.  It was not until the final rites at the grave that I began to understand the hope of resurrection.

            The very last thing we did at the gravesite was sing a song, “Canticle of the Sun.”  Based on a prayer of St. Francis of Assisi, it is quite joyful and uplifting.  It seemed strange to me that we should be singing such a song in the face of my grandfather’s death.  I then realized that the people around me truly believed in the power of Christ’s resurrection to overcome death and that my grandfather’s life was changed, not ended.  It was there that death’s impact diminished for me, and I too began to believe more fully.

            I think about that story almost every Triduum as we move through Jesus’ final hours, his death, and his rising from the dead.  I can somewhat identify with the sense of despair from Good Friday until Easter Sunday morning.  We now have the advantage of remembering Christ’s death each year knowing that Easter is near, but it was not so that very first time.  One of my favorite post-resurrection encounters, the story I considered as I reflected on this month’s rosary mystery, is the meeting between Jesus and Mary Magdalene in John 20:1-18.  Mary comes to the tomb with Peter and John, staying to weep alone when Jesus’ body is missing.  She eventually encounters the risen Jesus, but in her grief, she does not recognize him.  Thinking Jesus the gardener, she asks if he knows where the body is.  Then, there is a wonderful moment of satisfaction as Jesus calls Mary by name, and she, recognizing who it is, tenderly calls him the familiar term “Rabbouni.”  As heavy as the burden of Jesus’ death had been for her, it pales in comparison to the joy she now experiences knowing his rising from the dead.

            We all desire a similar reunion when we lose loved family and friends to bodily death.  In our effort to console each other, we note our expectation to see these people again.  Because of Christ’s resurrection, these are much more than empty words.  The anticipated bliss of those future encounters helps assuage our grief and can be a source of hope in even the most dire of circumstances.  Even more than that, we look forward to our own Magdalene-like encounter with our God.  In Mary’s case, she clung to Jesus but had to let go.  The joy of heaven is that we will never have to let go and can forever stay in that place of light, happiness, love, contentment, and peace.  Alleluia, indeed!