Shortly after Easter, this year, I attended the funeral of the
young daughter of friends. Arriving
early before Mass began, I recalled the untimely death of another young person. Not that long ago, Ryan ended his own
life. Lacking confidence, the least of
stature, by far in physical ability and natural athletic talent of three
brothers, this short, lanky hurler learned, trained, overcame long odds, and became an
all-conference quarterback. Ryan led a
Patriot aerial attack at Parkway South to its first undefeated regular season
to the State semifinals which included an upset victory over consecutive State
champions, Jefferson City.
I’d coached Ryan for four
years. As this season ended, I knew I was
going to miss looking into Ryan’s determined, spirited eyes beneath his
cockeyed helmet and delivering instructions.
He traveled to college. He grew
in size. He admitted he’d fallen in with
the wrong crowd and began using drugs. He
failed several classes eventually dropping out of school. But these were
symptoms not the problem. I assisted him
in getting counseling, getting re-enrolled in junior college, and in joining an
on-campus Bible study. (He enjoyed our Fellowship of Christian Athletes group
while attending South.) Periodically,
Ryan dropped by South and we’d visit over lunch or in the late afternoon following
classes.
However, over the course of two
more years, Ryan disconnected from counselors, dropped classes; the drug use
and Bible study continued. Occasionally
over lunch, he’d share the shame he felt, falling from where he’d been as an
exceptional football player. We shared
stories from scriptures he’d independently study and question. We’d try to disarm the harsh realities of
life wearing his faith away. Internally,
Ryan was at war. “Where is God? I don’t get God. Does He even care?” Ryan questioned among
his anxieties.
Months passed. I had difficulty reaching him. Ryan ended his life. His parents asked that I write and deliver
Ryan’s eulogy. I had plenty to share of
Ryan’s goodness and spirit. But what I
wanted Ryan to know was “God does care. God is with you, always.” Even so, doubt entered my heart and mind. I along with family and friends desired
something tangible, something we could visualize, grasp. Our worlds crumbled. We, too, asked the same questions Ryan
asked.
During this Easter funeral, I along
with family and friends, once again, desire something we could see, grasp. Fr. Stanger offered perspective and imagery
during his homily that I wish I had had years earlier. His references offered profound clarity. And though I don’t know if they would have
made a difference in Ryan’s life at the time, I am confident Ryan knows now!
Fr. Stanger referenced a popular painting
composed by William Hunt hanging in St. Paul’s Cathedral in London. Art historians* think it may be the most
traveled work of art in history. It has
influenced cultures for generations. In
darkness, Jesus, having no means to enter, lifts a lantern outside a door
without a knob or handle. We know not
the time or the place. It is implied we
are responsible for opening our door to Jesus for he has no way of opening
it. Otherwise, we remain alone leaving
Jesus locked out. This is not an absolute; as Fr. Stanger went on to explain. Sometimes individuals just can’t or are not
able to open the door.
Pain and struggles of depression, unworthiness, despair, addiction, sin,
shame, arrogance, isolation, alienation, betrayal, mental illness; all make
opening the door impossible or nearly so.
On
the evening of that first day of the week, even though the disciples had locked the doors of the place
where they were for fear of the Jews, Jesus came and stood before them. “Peace
be with you,” he said. When he
had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. At the sight of the Lord, the disciples
rejoiced. “Peace be with you,” he said again. (John 20: 19-21)
After all the turmoil, alienation, suffering, unrest, Jesus offers peace first. Jesus then encounters Thomas. Jesus comes to meet Thomas where he is,
filled with fear and doubt. Jesus shares his most intimate wounds inviting
Thomas to touch and to be touched. Don’t
we all want proof? Don’t we all want
Christ Jesus to walk through our walls to our hearts and minds?
I picture Ryan huddled shivering against
a wall of despair, helpless. Jesus walks
through the barriers of his life. On bended
knee, Jesus, hand outstretched, erases the tears of a fear filled Ryan. Jesus does and will walk through the hardness
of heart and mind even when those in relentless pain cannot open their own. Ryan’s parents and friends needed to hear
this. I needed to hear this. Jesus never gives up on us!!! He went on to forgive his disciples who fled
him. Humbled they received His gift of
the Holy Spirit.
Peace be with you!
** In my research -- William Hunt painted the Light of the World, Jesus carrying the
lantern, twice. The initial painting (1850-53)
is small and is displayed in Keble College, Oxford. While losing sight from glaucoma, Hunt
persevered to paint a much larger version, a copy. Through 1900-1904 with the assistance of
another painter, Edward Hughes, William Hunt completed the famous painting
displayed at St. Paul’s Cathedral. This
larger painting was exhibited throughout the world over time. Art historians think it is the most traveled
work of art in history. It has
profoundly influenced many generations of viewers. I am grateful for Fr. Stanger’s reference to
it.
No comments:
Post a Comment