I can tell you that I will take time soon and journey into the woods for a night. There I will find quiet, and time for contemplation and reflection. I will have no phone, no internet, and no outside communication. It is honestly one of my favorite days of the year.
As an aside for anyone with ill intent, since this is posted publicly on the web, I should mention that my two oldest boys will be home from college, and my home and family will be well guarded in my absence. More importantly, prayers for my family will be flooding into heaven from amidst the forests of rural Missouri. I trust that their guardian angels will be on full alert. Plus, I have nothing worth stealing.
Why do I go into the woods alone? As I mentioned, there is time for silent reflection. There is opportunity to marvel at the beauty and grandeur God has created all around us. Daytime, surrounded by the spring blooms spread over hills and valleys, presents a very peaceful setting. Also, in the blackness of night I am faced with fear. I am a spec amidst the trees. The sounds of wildlife surround me. Rustling, stepping, howling, and occasionally growling. Whether all real, or some imagined, alone in the dark, I am faced with physical and mental fear. I have nothing to turn to except faith and prayer.
In my warm life, in my soft home, I do not often face true fear. Stress I have in abundance. But stress is something different. Over a decade ago when my infant daughter was diagnosed with cancer, I learned what true fear was. That night of her diagnosis was the darkest of my life. That night my prayers felt the most real. That night I offered up my faith to be tested.
And so it is in the woods. As the sun sets amidst the trees, all of the beauty of nature turns to black. I can no longer see. Light abandons me. My senses betray me. As I pray the Rosary, the mysteries become more real. I can feel the Agony in the Garden, if only the tiniest taste of what Jesus certainly faced. As I shuffle across the terrain, I recite Psalm 23 over and over in my head, and can picture why it was written. ”Even though I walk in the dark valley, I fear no evil, for you are at my side, with your rod and staff that give me courage.” I can imagine a hint of the loneliness Jesus must have felt, while I pray for courage.
My shoulders twinge along the last stretch, and I think of how my padded backpack is only a fraction of the weight of the wooden timbers digging into Jesus’ back. The Stations of the Cross play out in my mind. My head is light and my legs begin to tire from the day’s fast. Each stone becomes a tripping hazard and an opportunity to stumble and fall.
As I stop and pick a spot for the night, and a chill washes over me, I can imagine Peter huddled in the courtyard. Despite life and activity all around him, he had no hope for friends or comfort, only fear that he would be approached and confronted. Dread that he would have to face evil and be tested. I understand why his absolute fear may have caused his thrice betrayal.
Eventually I must surrender, and I give myself over to exhaustion and to sleep. With only black surrounding me, I have faith that the next morning the sun’s rays will burst over the horizon. All will be new and beautiful. Until then, I must endure the quilted, nylon tomb that is zipped up tight around me. I must drift into the darkness and wait. It is not a comforting sleep. The hours pass slowly, and I wait.
Easter is a beautiful day. It is the most glorious of creation. But amidst our shopping for candy and jelly beans, colorful eggs and pastel clothes, we must remember the days leading up to Easter. Without the events of Holy Thursday and Good Friday, without the betrayal and crucifixion, without the breaking and the sacrifice, without the darkness and loneliness and fear coming first, there would be no Glorious Resurrection. Perhaps Holy Saturday was the biggest test of faith. A day of seemingly dark nothingness the disciples had to endure before the sunrise of redemption. Without the full Triduum, our mass would not exist. Our salvation would not have been won.
You may not be able to journey into the woods by yourself, but I invite you to at least spend an hour in adoration, or time in silent prayer, especially if you are not used to doing so. So many people take time to watch ‘The Passion of The Christ’ movie. Not because they don’t know the story, but because its scenes bring true discomfort, and sadness, and force thoughts of what Jesus may have endured. Remember the reading from Palm Sunday, and open up your bible and read it again. Ponder the full events of Holy Week. And then rejoice even Greater at Jesus’ Glory on Easter.
An abundance of Blessings to you and your families. Happy Easter to all of you…just not quite yet.
-Matt Buehrig
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