OUR Church and our world are so fragile.
In the face of so much pain – one can be tempted to lose hope.
But we are an Easter people and Alleluia is our song.
It’s a tiny, almost extinguished flame, weak, fragile but a light that conquers darkness.
It’s a small voice, almost a whisper that urges you on in the face of overwhelming odds.
It’s that tickle that urges you to forgive, let go, trust, hope despite every rational argument to the contrary.
It’s a sparkle in eyes that have known so much pain and yet give.
It’s that grain of strength when with limbs oh so weary leads you to get up again.
It’s that deep-down belief that love will conquer fear, that the drought will break, and the sun rise after a long and dark night.
It’s taking the lower place.
It’s bread broken and eyes open.
It’s that courage – almost impossible to quantify – that urges the most unlikely of heroes to face the greatest of odds.
It’s eyes that see beauty where others see brokenness.
It’s that fidelity to sit through the long nights of pain with those we love.
It’s one step at a time.
It’s believing in life beyond an eye for an eye.
It’s that random act of kindness; not asked for, nor expected nor demanded but freely given.
It’s unconditional love.
It’s the open hand rather than the clenched fist.
It’s the embrace that says love, acceptance and home.
It’s the eyes that sees past “stranger” to brother and to sister.
It’s the play of children that don’t see labels of other and foe and wrong.
It’s the choice to listen when the other talks at you and you let go of the need for “my turn now”.
It’s freely giving.
It’s trusting beyond reason.
It’s sitting with, walking beside, believing in and holding lightly.
It’s trusting in the tulip bulb beneath the snow and the healing beneath the pain.
It’s the letting go of revenge.
It’s the smile freely gifted.
It’s seeing with soft, accepting eyes.
It’s knowing that the victory of fear and shame is short-lived and plastic.
It’s honouring self despite your feet of clay.
It’s the sacredness of love-filled touch.
It’s never giving up.
It’s claiming your small voice and speaking from your heart.
It’s looking the cynic gently in the eye.
It’s that choice to light candles.
It’s always small, always fragile, always “silly” making no sense at all.
It’s reaching out and reaching up to take a scared or scarred hand.
It’s holding pain gently.
It’s caressing feet lovingly.
It’s knowing that fear is not the end.
It’s that crystal-clear morning bird-cry.
It’s knowing you’re okay in the midst of confusion.
It’s believing in love.
It’s the choice to get up from table, take basin and towel and wash feet.
It’s the loneliness of a garden wrapped in betrayal.
It’s the battle of worldly power and the reign of love.
It’s Via Dolorosa; the way of the Cross; blood, sweat and spittle.
It’s pain and death and ending – no not ending – three things remain – faith, hope and love – and the greatest of these is love.
It’s Easter morn and every day lived in love with the Risen Lord.
“Christos Anesti” (Christ is Risen)
“Alithos Anesti” (He is Risen indeed!).
Christian Brother Damien Price is a former teacher in Brisbane schools including St Joseph’s, Gregory Terrace; St Patrick’s College, Shorncliffe; and St Laurence’s College, South Brisbane. He continues to work with schools across the country.