Bishop
Bootkoski's Easter
Message Last week I made my annual retreat, which I cherish and savor greatly, at Weston Priory in Vermont. The ride up was dreary with intermittent rain and drizzle. The scenery was drab with shades of grays and beiges. When we reached the Vermont border traces of snow abounded. Coming upon the Manchester area was like turning a page in a book. The panorama opened up with four to five feet of snow and trees laden with a blanket of white on all their branches. The scene was one of serenity and peace. The steep hill up to the monastery was walled with seven to ten feet of snow. We had arrived back into winter, and I was glad I had brought my parka, my boots and my woolen cap, for obvious reasons. The night sky was overcast, and we settled into the menÕs retreat house named Romero, for the Archbishop of El Salvador, who gave his life in speaking out against the government for their abuse of the poor and indigent of that country. We then bedded down for the night. The next morning we arose at 4:20 am to prepare ourselves to attend the 5:00 am Vigil at the Monastery. We scraped the car windows because there was a light dusting of snow overnight. The Vigil prayer is one of my favorites. The monksÕ voices pierce the stillness of the early morning with their songs and chants. The scripture readings of the Mass of the day are also proclaimed so you can meditate upon them all day till the Eucharist is celebrated in the evening. Around 10:00 am I took a walk in the snow-covered road from the retreat house up past the monastery towards the woods. As I was passing one of the work sheds I saw Brother Columba shoveling snow away from the vertical windows that make up their homespun design of a greenhouse. The structure is a lean-to extension in the work shed. The windows face due south, and on the interior back wall of the shed are metal drums filled with water heated solely to maintain a moderate temperature in the greenhouse so plants might grow all during the winter. I waved to Brother, and he called me over to talk. He related to me this was one of the snowiest winters he could remember in his 30 some odd years at the monastery. He invited me in to see the results of his labor. We walked the path into the side entrance to the greenhouse, and what struck me was that the snow-walled entranceway was like entering the tomb of Christ. Through the first door we entered an antechamber designed to buffet the cold air, which was reminiscent of the preparation area where ChristÕs Body was prepared for burial. We then proceeded through the second doorway into the greenhouse proper. Geraniums were blooming; seedlings of petunias and various vegetables were sprouting up through the various pots of earth. On the shelves were seeds of various plants and vegetables Brother Columba had meticulously collected and saved over the years. In one large flowerpot he proudly displayed a large foliage plant he was painstakingly cultivating since last August. It was a carrot plant whose seeds could not be bought any more from a distributor because this variety was discontinued in place of a hybrid. This one produces very large and tasty carrots. Brother was going to let this plant go to seed, then collect the seeds, dry them and plant them late next spring. Then, looking at the jarred seeds, the growing seedlings and the blossoming plants, he said, "ItÕs just like the scriptures. If a seed does not die, it remains just a seed; if it dies, it bears much fruit." So, too, with Christ. He had to live and die in order to bear much fruit. So too with us. We must die to self to bear much fruit; this is what Jesus did. After all, he is the Way, the Truth and the Life. My sisters and brothers, Jesus had to live and die so that he might rise again to a new life. This is what we must emulate in our lives each and every day, in small ways and in big ways. We must die to self by giving to others of our time, our talent, our treasure. If we turn inward and donÕt reach out, we will remain just a seed and die without bringing forth new life. We must take the risk, for in that risk is new life, the Christ life. Brother Columba made the scriptures come alive and also taught me that the virtues of patience, perseverance and faithful love are essential to our living out the Paschal Mystery in our lives. The seed must be planted, must die, must germinate, must begin to grow, must mature into a blossoming plant to the point of producing seed for a new life. My friends, the tomb is empty. Jesus Christ has risen from the dead. May we, who bear his name as Christians, live His Paschal Mystery of life, death and resurrection each and every day of our lives so that, when our final and greatest Paschal cycle occurs, we will be able to encounter Christ where he will greet us with the words "This day you shall be with me in paradise." Alleluia, Alleluia. Happy Easter!
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