Friday of the Fourth Week of Easter
When I was growing up in rural Iowa, it was not uncommon for someone to pull in off the highway, knock at the door, and ask for directions to find someone living in the area. Deferring to the adults, what we heard sounded something like this:
“Oh, yeah, well you take this dirt road east all the way to the second gravel, then head south until you come to the red barn on the top of the hill at the old Hastert place, then turn west, cross the creek at the bottom, and it’s the next place. And don’t worry about the dog, he might bark, but he won’t hurt you.”
Thankfully, traveling by using the old red barn as a landmark is a thing of the past. But even with pinpoint precision, the modern GPS doesn’t always guarantee that we get where we intend to. It all depends on the route you choose to take. Even the all-knowing GPS can put us on a route with recent detours, which certainly complicates the process.
The Gospel for today’s liturgy gives us a great deal of reassurance concerning our travels in our spiritual life. Jesus tells his disciples and us that he has prepared a place for us, a special destination so that when our work in life is over we can focus on the final task of following our road home. In our world filled with so many uncertainties, dangerous threats, and questions about the ultimate value of life, we can find comfort in believing that the value of our life extends to the way we move toward our final destination.
No one likes to travel alone through unfamiliar and even dangerous territory. Our spiritual life goes way beyond saying prayers, following rules and the commandments, and “being good.” Jesus, the Son of God, took on our human nature, and therefore our human experience, passed through death and rose from death giving us His Spirit, precisely so that He can personally accompany us on the road of life. We choose the route and sometimes it’s a dreadful route with rocks, mud, blizzards, washed-out bridges, and no road signs. It is then that we turn to him sitting next to us where He’s been all along. If we listen He will not only point out the detour but also carry us across the last flooded stream.
This is how our spirituality becomes real for us. We must learn to keep up a steady conversation with Him as we travel. He knows what we see and feel but it’s up to us to conquer the silent fear of hoping for too much. The two disciples on their way to Emmaus were sad because “they were hoping” in the midst of disappointment. If we truly believe Jesus to be with us, our hopes can never be too much. We have the joy of chatting with Him and “going on and on” about them and sometimes pausing to take a breath!
Reflection: Do you enjoy chatting with the Lord on the road?
Reflection by Fr. Daniel Petsche, OSB
Posted in Lenten Resources