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Pope Benedict XVI- Homily |
Papal Homily - Easter Vigil
"I Arose and I am Still With You"
H.H. Benedict XVI
April 7, 2007
www.zenit.org
Dear brothers and
sisters,
From ancient times the liturgy of Easter day has begun with the
words: "Resurrexi et adhuc tecum sum" -- I arose, and am still with
you; you have set your hand upon me. The liturgy sees these as the
first words spoken by the Son to the Father after his resurrection,
after his return from the night of death into the world of the
living. The hand of the Father upheld him even on that night, and
thus he could rise again.
These words are taken from Psalm 138, where originally they had a
different meaning. That Psalm is a song of wonder at God's
omnipotence and omnipresence, a hymn of trust in the God who never
allows us to fall from his hands. And his hands are good hands. The
Psalmist imagines himself journeying to the farthest reaches of the
cosmos -- and what happens to him? "If I ascend to heaven, you are
there! If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there! If I take the wings
of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, even
there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me. If
I say, 'Let only darkness cover me,' even the darkness is not dark
to you; for darkness is as light with you" (Psalm 138[139]:8-12).
On Easter day the Church tells us that Jesus Christ made that
journey to the ends of the universe for our sake. In the Letter to
the Ephesians we read that he descended to the depths of the earth,
and that the one who descended is also the one who has risen far
above the heavens, that he might fill all things (cf. 4:9ff.). The
vision of the Psalm thus became reality. In the impenetrable gloom
of death Christ came like light -- the night became as bright as day
and the darkness became as light. And so the Church can rightly
consider these words of thanksgiving and trust as words spoken by
the Risen Lord to his Father: "Yes, I have journeyed to the
uttermost depths of the earth, to the abyss of death, and brought
them light; now I have risen and I am upheld for ever by your
hands." But these words of the Risen Christ to the Father have also
become words which the Lord speaks to us: "I arose and now I am
still with you," he says to each of us. My hand upholds you.
Wherever you may fall, you will always fall into my hands. I am
present even at the door of death. Where no one can accompany you
further, and where you can bring nothing, even there I am waiting
for you, and for you I will change darkness into light.
These words of the Psalm, read as a dialogue between the Risen
Christ and ourselves, also explain what takes place at Baptism.
Baptism is more than a bath, a purification. It is more than
becoming part of a community. It is a new birth. A new beginning in
life. The passage of the Letter to the Romans which we have just
read says, in words filled with mystery, that in Baptism we have
been "grafted" onto Christ by likeness to his death. In Baptism we
give ourselves over to Christ -- he takes us unto himself, so that
we no longer live for ourselves, but through him, with him and in
him; so that we live with him and thus for others. In Baptism we
surrender ourselves, we place our lives in his hands, and so we can
say with Saint Paul, "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who
lives in me." If we offer ourselves in this way, if we accept, as it
were, the death of our very selves, this means that the frontier
between death and life is no longer absolute. On either side of
death we are with Christ and so, from that moment forward, death is
no longer a real boundary. Paul tells us this very clearly in his
Letter to the Philippians: "For me to live is Christ. To be with him
(by dying) is gain. Yet if I remain in this life, I can still labor
fruitfully. And so I am hard pressed between these two things. To
depart -- by being executed -- and to be with Christ; that is far
better. But to remain in this life is more necessary on your
account" (cf. 1:21ff.). On both sides of the frontier of death, Paul
is with Christ -- there is no longer a real difference. Yes, it is
true: "Behind and before you besiege me, your hand ever laid upon
me" (Psalm 138[139]: 5). To the Romans Paul wrote: "No one lives to
himself and no one dies to himself. Whether we live or whether we
die, we are the Lord's" (Romans 14:7ff.).
Dear candidates for Baptism, this is what is new about Baptism: our
life now belongs to Christ, and no longer to ourselves. As a result
we are never alone, even in death, but are always with the One who
lives forever. In Baptism, in the company of Christ, we have already
made that cosmic journey to the very abyss of death. At his side
and, indeed, drawn up in his love, we are freed from fear. He
enfolds us and carries us wherever we may go -- he who is Life
itself.
Let us return once more to the night of Holy Saturday. In the Creed
we say about Christ's journey that he "descended into hell." What
happened then? Since we have no knowledge of the world of death, we
can only imagine his triumph over death with the help of images
which remain very inadequate. Yet, inadequate as they are, they can
help us to understand something of the mystery. The liturgy applies
to Jesus' descent into the night of death the words of Psalm 23[24]:
"Lift up your heads, O gates; be lifted up, O ancient doors!" The
gates of death are closed, no one can return from there. There is no
key for those iron doors. But Christ has the key. His Cross opens
wide the gates of death, the stern doors. They are barred no longer.
His Cross, his radical love, is the key that opens them. The love of
the One who, though God, became man in order to die -- this love has
the power to open those doors. This love is stronger than death. The
Easter icons of the Oriental Church show how Christ enters the world
of the dead. He is clothed with light, for God is light. "The night
is bright as the day, the darkness is as light" (cf. Psalm
138[139]12). Entering the world of the dead, Jesus bears the
stigmata, the signs of his passion: his wounds, his suffering, have
become power: they are love that conquers death. He meets Adam and
all the men and women waiting in the night of death. As we look at
them, we can hear an echo of the prayer of Jonah: "Out of the belly
of Sheol I cried, and you heard my voice" (John 2:2). In the
incarnation, the Son of God became one with human beings -- with
Adam. But only at this moment, when he accomplishes the supreme act
of love by descending into the night of death, does he bring the
journey of the incarnation to its completion. By his death he now
clasps the hand of Adam, of every man and woman who awaits him, and
brings them to the light.
But we may ask: what is the meaning of all this imagery? What was
truly new in what happened on account of Christ? The human soul was
created immortal -- what exactly did Christ bring that was new? The
soul is indeed immortal, because man in a unique way remains in
God's memory and love, even after his fall. But his own powers are
insufficient to lift him up to God. We lack the wings needed to
carry us to those heights. And yet, nothing else can satisfy man
eternally, except being with God. An eternity without this union
with God would be a punishment. Man cannot attain those heights on
his own, yet he yearns for them. "Out of the depths I cry to you."
Only the Risen Christ can bring us to complete union with God, to
the place where our own powers are unable to bring us. Truly Christ
puts the lost sheep upon his shoulders and carries it home. Clinging
to his Body we have life, and in communion with his Body we reach
the very heart of God. Only thus is death conquered, we are set free
and our life is hope.
This is the joy of the Easter Vigil: we are free. In the
resurrection of Jesus, love has been shown to be stronger than
death, stronger than evil. Love made Christ descend, and love is
also the power by which he ascends. The power by which he brings us
with him. In union with his love, borne aloft on the wings of love,
as persons of love, let us descend with him into the world's
darkness, knowing that in this way we will also rise up with him. On
this night, then, let us pray: Lord, show us that love is stronger
than hatred, that love is stronger than death. Descend into the
darkness and the abyss of our modern age, and take by the hand those
who await you. Bring them to the light! In my own dark nights, be
with me to bring me forth! Help me, help all of us, to descend with
you into the darkness of all those people who are still waiting for
you, who out of the depths cry unto you! Help us to bring them your
light! Help us to say the "yes" of love, the love that makes us
descend with you and, in so doing, also to rise with you. Amen.
© Copyright 2007 -- Libreria Editrice Vaticana
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