If life were perfect all the time — no troubles, no worries, no aggravations — we’d be in heaven. Life isn’t like that. As the t-shirt says, “Life is good” for sure, but along the journey on this side of the veil, life can get pretty stinking hard.
Sometimes something arises though and we know that while it is difficult, in the end it’s going to be OK. We may be challenged while wading through it. It may even feel dark and basement-y, but in our hearts, we know it’s going to be alright. This too shall pass.
A dear friend calls this living in the triduum. She and another friend and I have fallen into the habit of having a “crafternoon” or “craftermorning” on Good Friday. It’s a way to be in community on what is arguably the hardest day of the liturgical year. On Good Friday, we are hungry and we are solemn. Our Lord dies that day. We exited Holy Thursday Mass in silence, and we will start the Good Friday service likewise. It’s a time of rightly reflecting on the death of the One we love; the painful, agonizing death that we contributed to. Here in Wisconsin, it’s usually and appropriately cold and gray.
But we are an Easter people! We know that this too passes because we know the story. Jesus, in just a couple more days, will rise victorious from the grave, bridging the gap between heaven and earth so we may be with him for eternity. We will feast!
And this triduum plays out over and over in our lives in small but meaningful ways that remind us of how good God is and that we can, and should, have hope.
When I dropped my kids off at college their freshman years, I did the thing I knew I shouldn’t. I even told myself not to do it. As my husband and I walked away, I looked back and saw my dear child alone in a place quite far from home, and I cried because it seemed so wrong to be leaving my baby in North Dakota/Texas/Kansas. It felt like abandonment. Despite the sadness of no longer seeing them every day, I knew though, deep in my heart, that it would be OK. They were where God wanted them to be and where they belonged. Despite feeling like it was Good Friday, I had Easter hope. I knew our Lord was with them and this would end well. It did.
There are other, smaller times too that we live in the triduum. Raising children offers ample opportunities. Whether it feels like you’ve been awake for days because the baby won’t sleep or you’re outside in the rain for yet another soccer/baseball/football game, or you’re tending to a barfing toddler. These are all tough times, but you know they will be better. No child has ever stayed awake indefinitely, the sun returns, and vomit subsides. We get by on prayer and hope.
The virtue of hope sustains us. “Hope is the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit.” (CCC, 1817) “It keeps man from discouragement; it sustains him during times of abandonment.” (CCC, 1818) Theological hope is bigger than everyday hope, but I believe it is the foundation for the hope that gets us through our mini triduums.
This hope keeps us going when things seem bleak. It is easy to look at the bad in the world and feel discouraged or despair. The virtue of hope reminds us that Jesus won the war. Things may look and feel bad now, but Jesus resurrected. This sojourn on Earth is temporary. We are pilgrims on our way to God, and God already vanquished evil. It is done. There is no “what if.” It is a certainty. With his grace, we keep our eyes fixed on him and rely on him for our strength.
When we live with this hope in our hearts, it oozes into our daily lives and enables us to feel hope in the struggles we experience now. Whether that is a colicky baby who won’t sleep, an insolent teenager, a giant work project or an ailing parent. In the end, it’s going to be OK because Jesus did the heavy lifting.
We will certainly face many triduums in our life, but we can be assured that we are not alone, Jesus is alongside us, and we have every reason for hope.
Fasting Experiment Update: The April fast from wine was easier than I expected until I attended a wedding. I’m not a cocktail girl and beer wasn’t the vibe I was after. I held to it though, making the fast a late-in-the-month success. I like the reminder to think about someone else the fast is giving me. It’s so easy to keep my self-centered blinders on. This is helping me to remember to think of someone else. Onward!
