Conclusion

I thank the late Fr. Neuhaus for giving me such a wealth of material to reflect on, and apologize to those who love him if my ramblings have been less than his excellent musings deserve.

Through Mary he received his humanity, and in receiving his humanity received humanity itself.  Which is to say, through Mary he received us.  In response to the angel's strange announcement, Mary said yes.  But only God knew that it would end up here at Golgotha, that it had to end up here.  For here, in darkness and in death, were to be found the prodigal children who had said no, the prodigal children whom Jesus had come to take home to the Father. - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon


Before time began (as if before had any meaning at that point), the eternal Son knows where the choice to become one of us would lead him.   In the eternal present moment that encompasses each moment of past, present, and future, He knows all things simultaneously and completely. In eternity, he sees what we would do to him, how we would reject him two thousand years ago and today and throughout the ages to come.  Yet he also sees how each of us throughout all time would embrace him, how his deliverance would be received by those who love him in return.  And therefore, in an instant that we refer to as the fullness of time, he became a mindless zygote in Mary's womb (preposterous!  Alice laughed. 'There's no use trying,' she said: 'one CAN'T believe impossible things.' 'I daresay you haven't had much practice,' said the Queen. with thanks to Fr. Dave), with no knowledge of anything at all, locked into experiencing time and life as we do, as he knows he would.  And in his love, he chooses this path for our sake, choosing to receive us through Mary and through the cross, so as to bring us home with him forever.

It's presumptuous of me to quote the end of a book, but we know this story already, so I dare.  Feel free to stop here, if you prefer, and buy the book and read it instead.


To the prodigal children lost in a distant land, to disciples who forsook him and fled, to a thief who believed or maybe took pity and pretended to believe, to those who did not know that what they did they did to God, to the whole bedraggled company of humankind he had abandoned heaven to join, he says: "Come.  Everything is ready now.  In your tears and in your laughter, in your friendship and farewells, in your loves and losses, in what you have been able to do and what you know you will never get done, come, follow me.  We are going home to the waiting Father. " - Fr. Richard John Neuhaus, Death on a Friday Afternoon


Sometimes I yearn for this life to be over, to enter into the eternity that awaits me.  For the longest time it was shame - occasionally intense but always pretty much present - that drove this near-despairing, and it was only my love and appreciation for the dear family and friends through whom God has poured his love into my life that kept me from much wallowing there.  Fr. Neuhaus and William Young and a handful of faith-full friends have helped me begin to be set free from that shame, though there may be just a remnant of that habitual feeling that will continue to fade over time.  And yet I sometimes wonder whether it may merely be doubt that causes me to cling to this life's blessings despite it challenges.

Sometimes I wonder if this faith I profess is true, if my experiences of the touch of God are instead merely the product of a touched mind.  I wonder whether the eternity that awaits me is something as wonderful as heaven, as torturous as hell, or as blank as oblivion.  Usually I believe the first, not because I think I'm any more deserving of it than others but because of what Fr. Neuhaus has shared of God's mercy for his beloved. On rare occasions I still wonder about the second possibility, and find that I cannot help but consider the third.

This one thing only I know: the end of this life is the end of time for each of us, and I have no hope beyond the worms save Christ crucified.  Yet, in him, I have abundant hope.  It helps that when I consider the teachings of my faith in the context of eternity, I find it the only consistent explanation for every question in life.  Every other hypothesis leaves more things unanswered than this one does, and requires more faith than I can muster.

So in this Jesus I place my trust, and his story I proclaim with my life.  I strive to follow where he leads, and trust him to carry me where I can never walk on my own: to the home I believe he has prepared for me for all eternity.