Lectio
“It was said of him that he had a hollow in his chest channelled out by the tears which fell from his eyes all his life while he sat at his manual work. When Abba Poemen learned that he was dead, he said weeping, ‘Truly you are blessed, Abba Arsenius, for you wept for yourself in this world! He who does not weep for himself here below will weep eternally hereafter; so it is impossible not to weep, either voluntarily or when compelled through suffering.’”
— The Sayings of the Desert Fathers, trans. Benedicta Ward, SLG (Arsenius 41)
Meditatio
Our suffering is our purification. For if, as Jesus says, we are to be in the world, but not of the world, our longing for union with God will cause us much pain as we grieve for all we had and could have had that is not-God — all that is temporal and finite from which we must, ultimately, be freed if we are to have God and God alone. And our lives here are our opportunity to live out both that letting go and that union. We were not put here merely to leave, but to be here with one another in and for love, in and for union, in and for God.
And in this seeming dichotomy of holding on and letting go, we are torn apart. It often feels confusing, frustrating, and unfair that all we experience here — all that is real and joyful and painful — ultimately passes away, and so do we. This must be what the disciples felt as they watched their friend, their Lord, and their hope dying on the cross — at once given voluntarily and taken away like a criminal — a tragedy, a betrayal, and a devastatingly challenging opportunity for faith.
As with the original disciples, we are often asked to sit with our pain, without explanation or consolation, with no sign of hope on the horizon. Even if it feels like it, however, we are not alone in our times of despair. Like the sun hidden behind a stormy sky, we may not see his face, but the Lord is always near. And yet while the skies are dark and we cannot see the light behind them, we will weep for the Lord who feels lost to us. But in our weeping, we are emptied, we are hollowed out. Like Jesus on the cross, our love is poured out into the world through our pain, “completing what is lacking in Christ’s afflictions for the sake of his body, that is, the church” (Colossians 1:24).
For in our emptiness, in our pouring ourselves out for the sake of Christ’s body, we unite ourselves to Christ, making our suffering, like his, no longer in vain, but the gateway through which we must pass, in love, to the Father.
Oratio
I see your Light
peeking through
the clouds
rays of Love
that reach me
even here
you are the source of Light
in every eye
the fount of Love
in every heart
generously
abundantly
unceasingly
even when clouds
obscure our view
Contemplatio
Where in your life are you being invited to weep voluntarily — to enter your suffering consciously, rather than waiting to be compelled by it?
Related Scripture
“For in hope we were saved. Now hope that sees is not hope. For who hopes for what one sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait with endurance.” — Romans 8:24–25 (NRSVCE)
For Further Reading
If you enjoyed this post, you may also like Where Light Enters: The Wounds of Christ and the Wounds We Carry, which explores how our suffering connects us to the wounded, risen Christ — and how grace enters the world through the very places we are broken open.
Robert Van Valkenburgh
Grappling With Divinity.
Wrestling With God.
Returning To Love.
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