Triduum Reflection for Give Us This Day, March 2024

There is a wound at the heart of these high holy days, a scarlet thread binding both the divine and the human in an experience of deep love and great suffering.

On Holy Thursday, we celebrate in a particular way the outflowing love of God present in the Eucharist, in Christ who is broken open and poured out in self-emptying love. This sacrifice also overflows into loving care and concern for others, as we encounter Christ’s presence in both the Eucharist and in the least of our brothers and sisters.

We gaze upon the wounds of Christ crucified on Good Friday, and even adore the wood of the cross on which he hung. On the cross we encounter the God who submits to being broken out of a deep love for us in our brokenness, the God who becomes wounded to heal our wounds, the God who chooses to walk with us even though that walk ends brutally on Calvary. We also contemplate the great silence of God in the midst of suffering.

On Holy Saturday, we enter into solidarity with all who are bereaved. We contemplate the disorienting stillness of the garden, the unnerving sense of absence, the crushing pain of a future denied. Before the world-shaking irruption of the resurrection, there is only the earth-shattering reality of grief, of knowing some wounds may not be healed this side of eternity.

Into this darkness, the first lights of the Easter Vigil flicker: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it” (John 1:5). Here, on this holy cusp of liminality, between deep sorrow and great joy, we may be tempted to think Easter is simply a big electric blanket thrown over the brutality of the previous days. We may even experience disorientation or discouragement.

Perhaps this season of our lives feels like a long Lent, and Easter seems a bit premature. Perhaps there is dissonance between Easter joy and our own experience of life, of the brokenness we encounter in ourselves, in others, and in the world.

And yet when Jesus is risen, he still has his wounds: pierced hands, pierced side, a pierced heart. The horrible torture he endured, the trauma inflicted upon him by callous people, remains imprinted upon his glorified body. The wounds of Jesus remain, and yet they become a source of healing. For when those who loved him see his wounds, they recognize him. And the wounds, once a cause of tremendous pain for both redeemer and redeemed, have now become fonts of healing, conversion, gratitude, and joy.

The Holy Triduum holds all these mysteries within it, reminding us that where there is great love, there has often been great suffering. And yet, in celebrating these holy mysteries, we encounter a wholeness bigger than all the brokenness the world could ever muster, and a goodness greater than all the suffering we may experience. And most importantly, we begin to know the Love that is stronger than death, and to learn that this Love has a face, and a name, and is holding us with hands that have known suffering. And we begin to believe this Love will always hold us, whatever wounds may come.

Michael J. Sanem, from the March 2024 issue of Give Us This Day, www.giveusthisday.org (Collegeville, MN: Liturgical Press, 2024). Used with permission.