April 2012 Philadelphia Chapter of Pax Christi U.S.A.

Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

At a relatively young age I began to be haunted by thoughts of eternity. What would it be like to be in hell - or heaven for that matter - for eternity?

I was raised Catholic in a small, quiet town, across the street from the parish cemetery. The most sobering moment of my childhood came one glorious, spring day while playing in the cemetery. Suddenly, I stumbled upon the tombstone of an infant. I can still recall kneeling quietly at the farthest edge of the cemetery, tracing with my finger the pure white stone shaped in the image of a sleeping child, as if to touch the meaning of this senseless death. Perhaps the questions began that day: Life. Death. Resurrection.

Years later, the questions grew deeper still when my niece and Godchild, Joslyn, suffered a brain injury following a freak accident. As a woman of faith and a believer in "wherever two or three are gathered...” I brought oil to the hospital to anoint my Godchild and pray for her healing and wholeness. She died three days later; she was just 2 years old.

Recently, while reading The Hidden Jesus by Donald Spoto, I felt my whole being come alive with joy as I read his words: “The deepest concern of my life, the one thing that has sustained, prodded, enlivened, nurtured, bothered, convicted, terrified, and gladdened me, has been the mysterious journey that is faith in God.”

The journey of faith, if nothing else, certainly is mysterious. Yet, it is precisely this faith in God that has challenged me, brought surprising joy and enriched life in ways unimaginable. The journey has called forth a yearning to know God in a deeper way; to grow in holiness. And it continues to call forth more questions: how is faith embraced and lived out when faced with inexplicable suffering and incomprehensible evil? How does one journey with those who suffer, and yet rise with an ever deepening faith, and even joy? How is it that in the midst of chaos, conflict and sorrow it is possible to find solace and know peace?

Shortly after the devastating earthquake in Haiti, I received a comforting letter from my friend and fellow Catholic Worker, Kim Williams. She wrote, “I know this tragedy in Haiti weighs deeply on you, as it should upon all of us. I pray for a deepening and true faith in the Resurrection. It isn’t much fun to be the women waiting at the foot of the cross, of being the women who go to the tomb for the burial rituals. Seems so useless; hope lost anyway. But that is ‘solidarity,’ that is ‘standing with’."

A memory that I come back to repeatedly is that of waking up my first morning in Haiti three weeks after the earthquake. I was sleeping in my tent; the sun had not yet risen. I was awakened by the sound of people singing. It took a moment to figure out what was happening. I sat up and listened in awe. There was a group of Haitian men and women who were living in "sheet tents" on the soccer field next to our encampment. They had gathered for morning prayer; they were singing psalms and praises to Jesus. They had, just three weeks before, lost everything - everything except their faith.

Experiences such as this are humbling and serve to deepen our faith in God and in the hope of the Resurrection.

I have never forgotten being in Iraq during Holy Week one year. We spent our days learning of the devastating effects of sanctions. We visited hospitals where children were dying from lack of medicines; their mothers' grief palpable. One evening, we went to Mass at one of the Catholic Churches. After Mass, I watched in silence as a parade of people walked slowly, reverently to the front of the church to kiss the feet of Jesus on the cross; to touch him wherever they could. I was so moved by this outward display of faith; it brought me to tears. It was such a holy moment. Here were these long suffering people, with such faith, so close to the suffering Christ.

One of our patients at the Catholic Worker Clinic comes in a couple of times each week. More often than not, she is coming in to thank us - for the umpteenth time - and share her testimony of how God saved her life. Somehow, in her mind, we are connected to a miracle that took place in her life 22 months ago. She was homeless and near death from liver disease. Her name had been placed on the waiting list for a liver transplant. I remember well how sick she was. We would shake our heads with sadness knowing that, of course, this woman would never see a new liver. She quit drinking and miraculously recovered. Mary Beth worked hard and found her housing. She is now reunited with her family, and genuinely lives every moment in gratitude. She is a joy to be around. God gave her strength and restored her life.

Life is fragile. Sometimes we are transformed by our suffering; sometimes we must face a vast desert of pain and loss. Ultimately, in this life, we never know why. We must surrender and accept suffering as a part of life. When we do, freedom, joy and deepening faith become an inextricable part of the journey.

We find comfort, courage and strength knowing that the presence of the Resurrected, compassionate Jesus is with us through it all, now and for eternity.

Johanna Berrigan

House of Grace Catholic Worker, Philadelphia, PA

Bishop Tom Gumbleton and Johanna Berrigan