Each time my faith in Jesus moves me to deprive myself of some commodity or personal luxury by sharing my time, personal space or material goods with someone who urgently needs them, then I am dying and, at the same time, filling myself with life.

When we remember all that we have lived, we often discover that what we fought not to lose at a specific moment, even using the very last fiber of our strength, ultimately gave us the capacity to obtain something that before we would have considered beyond our reach.

Every life skill is learned slowly and by repetition; walking, speaking, using tools, etc. Perhaps it is for this reason that we resist detaching ourselves from what has required much effort on our part. Or perhaps what is familiar gives us a sense of security although it no longer has the appeal of mystery or the excitement of surprise.

Each new experience is a brief death to the past that molds my future forever. Whether I like it or not, from that moment on I will not continue to be the same. Whatever comes to be in my future will be sustained by the deep roots of what has been lived with sorrow and with joy.

Saint Teresa of Avila, wounded by the love of God, poetically expressed her interior paradox of joy and sorrow by writing “I die because I do not die.” It is a deep, heartbreaking suffering, which at the same time is full of plenitude and satisfaction; it is loss and gain, terrifying height, yet also seductive abyss.

The losses we have experienced can be so painful that they anchor us in what is negative, preventing us from seeing broader horizons that can only be discovered in our daily life. So many brothers and sisters around us live by just surviving in the world, with a paralyzed existence, fearing that they might lose control of what they already know. It is an existence that I could call “comatosed.”

Those of us who believe in the Risen Christ are called to live by dying; to live continually discovering new forms of humanity, to ultimately detach ourselves from the fear of the unknown and open ourselves to the plenitude of a life without limitations, which we receive through love. Divine love brought to us by the Word of God made Man in Jesus.

Each time my faith in Jesus moves me to deprive myself of some commodity or personal luxury by sharing my time, personal space or material goods with someone who urgently needs them, then I am dying and, at the same time, filling myself with life.

When at last I have painstakingly understood that what I have stopped doing out of convenience or laziness could vastly improve the existence of another human being near me, I am receiving a new life from what I have buried, that is, from my sinful egotism. It is that same egotism that the Lord Jesus defeated on the cross and buried forever.

If, in my life, new, colorful flowers appear disguised in the forms of forgiveness, friendship, brotherhood, truth or perseverance in service to others, it is because in the deep roots of my soul, the sap of God’s love, that gives life in the Risen Christ, continues to flow in quiet darkness.

The countless millions of believers throughout Christian history in the last twenty centuries have made a great difference for humanity. Now it’s our turn. Let us live by dying with Him, so that many more to come may have life.

Most Rev. Eusebio Elizondo, MSpS, is the Auxiliary Bishop of the Archdiocese of Seattle.

NORTHWEST CATHOLIC - April 2014