An Easter reflection

At Easter, the cross is a central focus. Our guest editor for this issue, Fr Patrick O'Sullivan SJ, reflects on the mystery of the cross.

Most of our prayers begin and end with the sign of the cross, to remind us that Jesus on the cross is at the heart of our faith. Because the cross is at the heart of our faith, it is also at the heart of our lives—our lives and our faith are inseparable.

The cross is there for all of us. That is why it is so important to recognise the cross when it comes and accept it for what it is—an invitation to move beyond our comfort zones and go more deeply, in trust, into the mystery of an unconditionally loving God.

Jesus on the cross experienced negativity in almost every way. He was betrayed, ridiculed, tortured, deserted by his friends and finally murdered. But he didn't transmit, didn't pass on any of that negativity to others.

On the contrary, he took it into his heart, trusted in his Father, and so transformed all the negativity into one final act of love that still reverberates through all creation: 'By his wounds you have been healed' (1 Peter 2:24). 'God was in Christ', says St Paul, 'reconciling the world to himself, making peace through the blood of his cross' (2 Corinthians 5:19).

To put it simply, the message, or one of the messages of the cross is: when we experience negativity in our lives, in whatever form it takes, we do not transmit that negativity on to others but take it into our hearts and transform it, so that it becomes a source of life for ourselves and others.

A few years ago, with our own David Wenham in the leading role (and he was excellent!), the movie Molokai appeared—the story of the Belgian priest, Father Damien, who gave his life for the lepers on the island of Molokai.

As an aside, (and a rather lengthy one!) I have a very soft spot for Damien, in terms of my own vocation to the Jesuits. During my primary school years, I had the privilege of being educated by the Christian Brothers at their oldest school in Brisbane, Gregory Terrace. Through all those early years, the brothers were very strong, and consistent, in feeding us with the lives of saints.

I can still remember the brother reading us the life of Damien of Molokai, and quoting his famous sermon at one Mass, which began, 'We lepers ...' That evening, as I was saying good-night to my mother, I said to her (me all of nine years), 'Mum, I know what I am going to do when I grow up. I'm going to become a doctor and work in a leper colony. Then I'll be sure of getting to heaven.'

My mother gave me a gentle smile and said, 'Well, if you feel like that, why don't you become a priest, like your uncle Kevin?' (Kevin O'Sullivan, my father's younger brother, was a well-known and well-loved Jesuit.) That's how it all started!

Coming back to Damien and the movie: there is a most dramatic scene when Damien first arrives at Molokai, having been given strict instructions not to touch a leper. No one had been showing any care for the lepers and they had gradually lost their dignity, spending their days in drinking and brothels.

Damien goes into one of the brothels and a horribly disfigured leper leers at him, and kisses him on the cheek. Damien looks at the man, reaches out, embraces him and rests his cheek on his head. Tears come to the man's eyes, and the whole scene is immediately transformed—the negativity totally dissipated.

That is why prayer is so important. Transformation can only occur at the level of the heart. Unless our heart is engaged with Jesus, transformation can never occur.

As one saying from the East has it: 'Rake muck this way. Rake muck that way. It will still be muck. In the time you are brooding, you could be stringing pearls for the delight of heaven.'