Blinding Joy
After Easter, the Gospels tell story after story about
non-recognition and then the startling joy of recognition, the immense and
life-transforming joy of recognition.
Everyone at John Ryan’s gathering has wrestled with this
experience of non-recognition, followed by the joy blinding joy of recognition.
This burst is central in our lives.
We argue a lot, all of us, because we simply cannot
understand what’s wrong when other people do not recognize the risen Lord –
other people seem to refuse to recognize. And so, what people hear from us,
often, is joyless argument. We seem to make joyless demands: truly, you must do this or that. But underneath, or
behind, or hovering off to the side – somewhere close but often hidden – we
know the joy of recognition.
Friends: I am deeply conscious that I sound to you angry and
frustrated, making new and considerable demands. I am angry and frustrated, and I am
making considerable demands. But underneath, what drives me is another miracle
of recognition. Jesus said, “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” That’s in
Scripture, and in the experience of the Church for centuries. But it is also my
experience.
You know, from Scripture and the Church’s teaching, that
children are beloved by God, and reveal God. But for you, this is not something
you heard from someone else and pass on obediently. You know it yourself, from
experience. Not always, not daily, not regularly – but enough that you know.
How do you share that? I don’t know, and I’m not sure you know how either.
For me, it’s the same thing with children – and also with
immigrants. Not always, not daily, not regularly – but enough that I know. When
you welcome an immigrant, a “stranger,” you welcome the Lord.
I’m the world’s worst witness, likely. But I have to say
what I know.
Especially to people whom I love.
