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Starting
Point Seeing with resurrection eyes
By PAIGE BYRNE SHORTAL
In the middle of a Missouri spring,
it is not hard to believe in life after death. Born and raised an urban girl, I
have only recently experienced what so many in my parish have known all their
lives: food from seed, beauty from bulbs, trees from nuggets that look like
nothing more significant than stones. One neednt look farther for a
miracle than in my husbands garden -- raspberries, tomatoes, new
potatoes, lettuce, asparagus!
I watch my almost-grown sons laugh together or read or listen to
music. From elements invisible to the eye a life is formed, grows and becomes a
human baby. From a baby comes a child, then a youth, then a man or woman, and
we are privileged to witness this miracle of life unfold right before our
eyes.
The potential for the tomato or the tree or the human being is in
the simplest element -- the seed. It is potent, filled with life, ripe with
possibilities.
The child in the womb spends all its energy developing that which
will never be needed in the womb. What need has a womb-bound child of eyes,
hands, lips? But upon birth into this world, the child beholds the face of the
beloved, reaches toward the beloved with outstretched hands, takes nourishment
with the lips and speaks: I love you, Mommy.
Just so, we who are growing in the womb of this world, what need
have we of giving hands, visionary eyes, hunger for heavenly food, and hearts
full of love, overflowing into words of gratitude? Loving hearts get broken in
a harsh world, but God through Ezekiel promises a fleshy heart to replace our
hearts of stone. Loving words are ignored, but we sing, Where there is
charity and love, there is God. Visionary eyes are blinded by the
practical, but God through Isaiah promises that the young will dream dreams and
the old will see visions. And giving hands? Such foolishness, yet we are told,
Blessed are those who make peace, who comfort the afflicted, who share
their bread with the hungry.
We are being readied for a birth into a land where love is the
common language and gift is the commerce, where eyes will behold the face of
God and each other as we really are, and songs of gratitude and praise are
always on our lips. We are being formed for the kingdom. Fed for the
kingdom.
My former archbishop, John May, died too soon. We gathered as an
archdiocese to celebrate what we knew was a farewell Mass, when he was too weak
to deliver his homily. Another bishop read his words, and we heard our beloved
bishops last wish for us. He charged us to form colonies of
Heaven.
What a lovely image! Here in the colonies, we bring with us the
best of the motherland: our language and laws, our homely customs and our
native food. Here in the colonies, the fleshy, feeling heart is exactly what is
needed to live the law of love; words of gratitude are exactly what language we
people of the covenant must speak. Here we are invited to feast on heavenly
food, on Eucharist, on God.
In these colonies of Heaven, we are invited to see with
resurrection eyes -- to see each other as God-filled, as a child of God, as a
brother or sister in Christ. Here in this fine company, we wait for birth from
the womb of this world into that bright land beyond the shadow of the
cross.
Yes, in the middle of a Missouri spring, where all that once
appeared as dead, has come to life again, it is easy to believe in life after
death.
Paige Byrne Shortal is a pastoral associate in a parish in
rural Missouri. Her e-mail address is pbs@fidnet.com
National Catholic Reporter, April 27,
2001
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