That word, patience, haunts us at Easter.

The promise of all ages has now been fulfilled in the Resurrection, and we rejoice.

But we have to wait for our slow selves to take it in. Sometimes we have to be forced to have it. Patience.

Remember how Jesus was so unhurried when he learned that Lazarus, his friend, was dying not far away in Bethany? Jesus delayed four days going there. In other words, he waited “forever” in emotional time Those close friends of his, Mary and Martha, buried their brother and grieved—without Jesus, who finally got there. Each sister cried out words that tore into him:

You could have saved our brother!

And Jesus wept.

Yes.

Then he replied, “But I am the resurrection and the life.”

We rejoice because we can sense the truth of that statement. Today it is spread out before us in the Great Celebration of Easter.**

And, we followers of God and his Christ take a long, long time to get beneath the surface of this feast, to put ourselves into the hands of, after all, what is not a money-back guarantee, but a promise. “You will be my people and I will be your God.” It is so tough for us to drink the milk of trust in the same way a child does at its mother’s breast. Must we decide to entrust still another sluggish part of ourselves to God and to his promise?

For a “brief moment,” we are told, God lost patience and turned away! But then “with enduring love” he took his people back, offering water to the thirsty and grain to their poor.

You will be my people and I will be your God.

Can you trust this?

How much?

Finally the Gospel is proclaimed, announcing an empty tomb! The women in the story believe. The men don’t. At least not right away.

How about you, woman or man, do you believe? Is Jesus risen or is he not? Or is it after all just a child’s fable?

On this Easter weekend, after we have reacted just like the disciples during those seemingly never-ending post-crucifixion days, and even after we sing songs about resurrection, still we do it by faith and trust.

We hear it anew, maybe now more profoundly, with pandemic and Ukraine and Gaza!

So, we wait, even with joy!

Halleluiah!

We are asked which path we will follow. The skeptical, calculating path of doubters, or the trusting, patient route of those who keep learning to believe—above all and after all—in the tender mercy of God.

Halleluiah!

You are invited to email a note to the author of this reflection:
Fr. John Foley, SJ