1
Third Sunday of Easter, Year B
April 19, 2015
Church of St. Ignatius Loyola, Chestnut Hill MA
Joseph M. O’Keefe, S.J.
In the 1970s, in the vicinity of buildings four and five of the World Trade
Center complex near Church Street, city workers planted a pear tree. A month after
the collapse of the Twin Towers, workers on the site discovered a few green leaves
showing through gray concrete and ash. Clearing the debris, they found a badly
injured tree. She was rescued and taken to a nursery outside the city where she
would be nurtured. No one was sure if she would live. But the following spring, new
green buds appeared and a dove built a nest in her branches. Over the years, the
tree, although still bearing scars, grew tall and strong. During these long-awaited
spring days, this tree, planted in a place of honor on the 9/11 Memorial Plaza, will
sprout beautiful white blossoms. She is known as "The 9/11 Survivor Tree."
The survivor tree is a fitting metaphor for the Risen Christ. The tree
symbolizes the blossoming of the spirit, resiliency, the resurgence of goodness and
hope, the coming of day after the long night, the piercing of bright sun through the
darkest clouds. The tree reminds us that violence and hatred and death need not
have the final word. There is a New York Times video that chronicles the finding of
the tree, her revitalization, and her replanting at the World Trade Center. Yes, the
tree is healthy and alive, thank God, but what is evident in seeing the tree is that the
wounds on the trunk are still evident.
In today’s gospel account, Jesus, his hands and feet with wounds still visible,
appeared to the disciples from Emmaus, greeting them with peace and saying to
them, “Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts?” Two
weeks ago, at the Easter Vigil, in churches throughout the world, the paschal candle
was blessed. During the blessing, grains of incense were placed into the wax of the
candle with these words, "by his holy and glorious wounds may Christ our Lord
guard us and keep us." Like the scars on the survivor tree, Jesus's wounds have been
transformed from grotesque to glorious by the power of God’s love.
In the broad scope of human history, all of us in this church have lived
blessed lives. We’ve known love and well-being. But we've also known sorrow.
Though none of us in this room today has undergone crucifixion, we've known
suffering, disappointment, and pain. We have experienced mortality in the death of
our loved ones and, as we age, we come to realize increasingly our own mortality.
Like Christ, like the survivor tree, we’ve had our share of scars, we’ve our share of
wounds.
But here is the glorious good news of Easter: By Christ's wounds, our
wounds are cured; by Christ’s scars, our scars are healed. And through the power of
the Spirit, just as he did for His beloved Son, God the Father transforms our wounds
and our scars so that we, in turn, can be a source of healing and reconciliation. Don't
we know that, in God's time and with God's grace, suffering can be transformed into
compassion. And don't we know that, when we lay down our lives in service to
others, as did Christ, we experience new life that is purposeful and fulfilling, and
glorious. Like Christ, isn’t each of us, in one way or another, a survivor tree.
2
Tomorrow, thirty thousand people will run by this church. As we cheer on
the marathon runners, we will undoubtedly remember the events of two years ago.
As during the trial of Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, the wounds and scars of innocent victims
will come become visible to us once again. But in the days to come, let us focus not
on the power of violence and death, but let us focus on the power of goodness, the
power of faith, the power of love, the power of life over death. Let us thank God for
the many survivor trees among us, those whose wounds, like Christ’s, are, in God’s
time and with God’s grace, being transformed from grotesque to glorious. Let the
Marathon teach us the meaning of Easter.
I am certain that most of you have read Bill and Denise Richard’s moving
letter that was published in Friday’s Boston Globe. They wrote in part:
The past two years have been the most trying of our lives. Our family has grieved,
buried our young son, battled injuries, and endured numerous surgeries — all while
trying to rebuild lives that will never be the same. We understand all too well the
heinousness and brutality of the crimes committed. We were there. We lived it. The
defendant murdered our 8-year-old son, maimed our 7-year-old daughter, and stole
part of our soul. We are in favor of and would support the Department of Justice in
taking the death penalty off the table in exchange for the defendant spending the
rest of his life in prison without any possibility of release and waiving all of his
rights to appeal. For us, the story of Marathon Monday 2013 should not be defined
by the actions or beliefs of the defendant, but by the resiliency of the human spirit
and the rallying cries of this great city. We can never replace what was taken from
us, but we can continue to get up every morning and fight another day. As long as
the defendant is in the spotlight, we have no choice but to live a story told on his
terms, not ours. The minute the defendant fades from our newspapers and TV
screens is the minute we begin the process of rebuilding our lives and our
family…Now is the time to turn the page, end the anguish, and look toward a better
future — for us, for Boston, and for the country.
During these fifty days of the Easter season, let us ponder anew the power of
the Resurrection as manifested in the people and events around us. Let us thank
God for survivor trees, even with wounds and scars still visible. May the Marathon
remind us of the Paschal Mystery, which is at the heart of our faith: Death
transformed into new life. By what we say and by how we live, let us attest to the
words of Peter in today’s first reading, “The author of life you put to death, but God
raised him from the dead; of this we are witnesses.”