Happy Wound
Author: Andrew Comiskey
April 10, 2023
‘In this desolation we
find Jesus, triumphant over death and shockingly alive, present to us in ways
we can’t understand, much less explain. In Him we find vibrancy of life and a
firm compassion that does not deny our suffering but transforms it and
illuminates it. He is Life Incarnate; death could not hold Him.’ Frederica Mathewes-Green
Easter gladdens our
wounds. Risen Jesus—His wounds yet visible—gazes on our gashes to illuminate
and transform them. Happy Easter! Happy wound!
At my parish last night, a
few good friends shared their deepest wounds and how Jesus healed them over
time. Uniting His blood with theirs, He broke the grip of death and despair and
raised their lives gently into a united whole. Each shared life-defying injustices
that Jesus somehow turned around into sources of hope and emotional integration,
even joy.
‘If we really do touch the
Risen Lord,’ said the late Pope Benedict, ‘we really do become fully
ourselves.’ My friends are more real today than yesterday. Wounds still
visible, they make a better case for the empty tomb than any apologist.
C’mon, you say. Don’t
sweeten my suffering with saccharine. There’s nothing ‘happy’ about her failed
marriage, his sexuality divided by abuse, unspeakable marks left by cruel caregivers,
or disorders of body and soul that tempt good Christians to withhold their gifts.
These wounds breach the integrity of the just and brand them. Happy? No way!
Yes, His way. No-one is romancing
wounds here, beginning with the God-Man. He doesn’t waste the fruit of His
suffering. Risen Jesus invites us to partake of it fully by entering the
divides most distressing to us.
With the help of sensitive
prayer partners, He shows up—walking through the walls that weary saints can
barely prop up anymore. Having broken the hellish domination of shame and
despair, He enters as pure, radiant Life: no shadows, no diminishment. In His
Light, we see and own the damage. We hurt. And His loving Presence assures us
that the wound is no longer in darkness. Affliction is no longer our destiny or
definition. He is.
Risen Jesus raises the
wounded with Him; His wounds visible, ours too, now drinking in the warmth of
His light and healing.
Let’s be honest. Easter
doesn’t mean the wound is gone; it signals its transformation. When the going
gets rough, and the original wounder or someone like him or her stirs things up
a bit, we like Doubting Thomas need simply respond to His invitation: ‘Reach
out your hand and put it into my [wounded] side. Stop doubting and believe.’
(Jn. 20:27).
‘My Lord and my God!’
responded Thomas, and so did I. As I reflected on my friends’ witness of how Jesus
bound up their wounds, I was unbound, softened by mercy to open again to the
Risen One. Our wounds decrease in size but still need His healing presence.
Happy wound. Not content
with closing a gap, Risen Jesus is transforming a life.
BACK