31. Contemplative life and Communion

"What I wish to do, you do not know now; later on you will understand." Thursday, Friday, Saturday, the days of Holy Week succeed one another, each one very different from the other. On Thursday, Jesus speaks to his disciples who do not understand. On Friday, He is handed over to pagans who understand still less. On Saturday He is dead.

Contemplatives consecrate their lives to a meditation of this unique drama. It seems to be outside time, but in fact, it goes right through time. It is the tension of history, like the string of a bow. This mysterious Presence, paradoxical inaction of God, presence-absence, action-passion: during the days of the Passion, the relationship which God wishes to realise with humanity, reveals itself in its deepest, scandalous, insupportable truth. A "high risk" relationship, as we say in common terms. A relationship of love, where God in His folly - delivering Himself in to our hands, assures our death.

"You do not realise now what I wish to do". The three days before Easter day, are characterised by a mournful asymmetry. Love calls for reciprocity, even when it is cruelly absent. On Holy Thursday, Jesus speaks, but is not understood; on Good Friday He gives Himself, but is not received. On Saturday, he goes through the underworld, solitude and death. Afterwards, there is reflection in the murmuring of the Spirit.

The role of contemplatives is to make themselves present through the heart, to what the world does not understand, but which is its concern, and which affects it in spite of itself. What we are celebrating is not a mere memory. We live it anew. We are caught up in the mystery, whether we wish it or not, whether we know it or not. No one is a contemplative because of a cold deliberate decision. It is an answer to a call, to a seduction. It is because one day, the heart overflowed...the opposite to a victory: a biting defeat but a liberating one with a bitter-sweet effect. There was the battle, the defence and finally the willing surrender. "You have seduced me Yaweh, and I have allowed myself to be seduced. (cf Jer.20.7) The centre of gravity is altered, and one is literally alienated!

We are never so near to Christ as when He is alone, and as if abandoned; when He prays during the night and when everything is going badly. It is at a moment of great sorrow that one can get nearest to Him. The crowds are at a distance and so cannot disturb Him. But it is not to discourse. Communication is non-verbal. The Word is in agony. "I have many other things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now". The word of Jesus which He addresses to all of us: what contemplative, what nun, what Christian would not wish to hear in the silence, what Christ could not say to His brothers because they were not yet able to bear them.?

Holy Thursday is first of all for us. It is reserved for friends, those who are initiated. Jesus performs gestures, he washes feet and shares bread. The meal is ritualised, a feast with a significance reserved for the morrow, and whose meaning will only later be divulged. The trial which has to be undergone unto death, is signified by the drinking of the cup, to the very dregs, i.e. to death.

Such is Christ's teaching. He does not say a lot, but leaves much room for experimenting. explication comes afterwards. It would be better here if He explained beforehand... the apostles will not understand the words they will hear, but with the experience gained at Easter, and with which they live after the Ascension also, they will recall His words and find the necessary clues to unravel what they heard. This practice is revealing. One must go along with the movement. "Happy will you be if you do these things". We would like to know before engaging in action. Here, one must engage in action in order to know.

I don't know why the Passion of Jesus is often presented to us as something unique, and then as though its fruits were reserved to the Church as to a private club! We are expected to content ourselves with observing and following, as one carefully follows an explanation. Our role then would be to receive its fruits, its graces and eventually distribute them to others. "God has not spared His only Son but has handed Him over for us." It is true, but it is short. First of all, we hadn't asked for anything. Then, like Clovis when he cried out: "Ah if only I had been there with my Francs!", we would like to have prevented the destruction. It is logic such as this which caused Saint Peter to cry out at the announcement of the Passion: "No Lord. That will never happen to you!" On Holy Thursday, we are called to say "Yes" to that manner in which Jesus will give Himself up, namely, that He will be taken from us...to consent that He give Himself to the whole of humanity: we receive a gift which goes beyond us. We are the beneficiaries of a treasure which belongs to others too. We are sent to distribute this treasure. But that presupposes that we too must consent to be handed over!

Christ's Passion does not function for us as a kind of insurance policy. On the contrary! The apostles present were in no way preserved from difficulties and rejection. All were in fact killed. Christ calls us to live by word and example as witnesses, right up the what that word signifies - the ultimate test. Long centuries of Christianity have caused us to forget this little by little, but Religious Life is a substitute for martyrdom precisely because of its radical stance.

To receive the gift, nothing is better than to give oneself in return. It is not enough to be an onlooker, even an admiring one. It is not enough to applaud the brilliant trapeze artist who we think is going to fall, but who manages to hang on to the support rail. We must enter into his movements, practice his teachings and verify their results. It is by following in a concrete way the One who has prepared the way, that we understand existentially who He is. "He who welcomes you, welcomes Me, and he who listens to you listens to Me and receives the One who sent Me." Thus we are truly members of His living body, in truth "dynamised" by Him.

On Holy Thursday, Jesus introduces us to a liturgy which is no longer separated from the rest of life, in the same way as the heart is not separate from the rest of the body. Traditionalists can turn it into a fetish without understanding it, but the power behind the sharing of bread cannot be divorced from the sharing of what one has. The wine of the popular feast reminds us of Isaiah, and already announces the great celebration longed for by so many of the poor.

Only the poor, those who possess nothing, are capable of giving all. Like a poor man, the living God offers the best, the most intimate, the most personal thing He has. He keeps nothing back nor does He protect himself from anything or hoard for the rainy day. He gives His Son, His Word. He gives the Scriptures, the prophets, the apostles, all His best friends. In no way does He protect His Church, except from selfishness. He does not hide Himself from it. He sends out his disciples as lambs in the midst of wolves. He wastes his most precious belongings. For Him, it is only at that price that the world can be lived in.

Can we be considered by the living God as the best that He can give? Can we comprehend such generosity to the point of taking part in it joyfully? Is it possible for us to fear nothing, confident of that all powerful magnanimity, that endless forgiveness, that divine love.