“When Jesus had taken the wine, he said, ‘It is finished.’ And bowing his head, he handed over the spirit.” John 19:30
The suffering was over.
The long day on the cross — Mark’s gospel says it was 9 a.m. when they crucified Jesus (15:25) and it was sometime after 3 p.m. according to all accounts when he died. The long night preceding — a night of prayer and betrayal, abandonment and beating, a night during which he stood alone before those in power, condemned by those who should have allied themselves with him. The days and weeks leading up to that clandestine flurry of activity — days and weeks when fear grew among those who sought to be faithful to the covenant and did not understand the way in which Jesus was re-envisioning the Law for them. It was finished.
He could do no more. Not then. Not through the Incarnation, his fully human, fully divine presence among the people of Israel. And yet, in that moment, in letting go, he did not abandon his ministry or those he loved, although no one understood it at the time. They could not because in Jesus, God was working in a new way, one which led to Resurrection and the Church, which is the Body of Christ in the world today.
Often these days I attempt to enter into the stories, attempt to be present through my imagination in a way which enables me to experience the living presence of Jesus. This one, though, I do not need imagination to experience because like so many other people, I’ve experienced painful endings, times when the life I had worked to build was torn from me. In recent months, I’ve come to see how God was shaping me with those circumstances, drawing me into a more intimate relationship with him, working to ensure my heart was not hardened by goals and values which would have prevented me from serving Him with a heart pliant with love. I’ve come to see those endings as transformational new beginnings.
I am grateful for this understanding, grateful to be standing on this threshold — and yet I feel somewhat disoriented. For years, I’ve engaged in regrets about my past and imagined the life I might have lived had I made different choices. I’ve imagined what my life would have been like had I gone to a Catholic college instead of a state university after graduating from high school. I’ve imagined what my life would have been like had I gone to work instead of college and avoided the burden of student loan debts. I’ve imagined what my life would have been like had I managed to complete the degrees necessary to teach at a university, which was my dream at one time.
But, in coming to see my life as a pilgrimage, as a journey of faith, I find I must let go of these regrets. They must be, for me, finished, if I am to embrace the wisdom of God’s hand at work in my life, and if I am to be open to the new life which follows endings in God’s natural order of things. Setting aside habits of thought is no easy task, though. I am guileless as Mary in this. “How can this be?” she asked the angel who visited her (Luke 1:34). She had not been with a man, and could not imagine conceiving a child in any other way. “How can this be?” I ask. I have lived so long with the inner barrenness of regrets, I cannot imagine living with hope and the assurance of a fruitful life.
Fortunately, I am not alone in seeking answers to this question. Others have gone before me and have marked the way. Among them is Sister Joan Chittister, who wrote an especially relevant book called FOLLOWING THE PATH: THE SEARCH FOR A LIFE OF PASSION, PURPOSE AND JOY. I have been reading if off and on for several months, mulling over passages that seemed to have been written especially for me, and have finished it tonight. In the final chapter, she writes, “determining what we are meant to do with our lives will necessarily unfold slowly and tentatively. Just was we grow slowly and tentatively, so will our understanding and awareness of what we are meant to do.”
She then provides guidance for discerning what we are meant to do. Chittister says we’ll have a natural aptitude for the work and a passion for it. In addition, we’ll see it as meaningful. “God did not finish creation,” she wrote, “God started it. Its ongoing development God leaves to us. What we do in life makes us the hands of God in living flesh and blood.” She said we must trust that God is leading us to find our calling, and must ourselves be both patient and committed.
I think I can do that. I’ve already seen God at work in my life with 20/20 hindsight. Now, I just need to turn around and look to the future, the future of hope he promised long ago.