"La Resurrección de Cristo", tempera on pine wood board by Juan Correa de Vivar (circa 16th century). I had an awfully difficult Holy Week. Instead of reflection and devotion, it was a week filled with anger, hurt, and even rage. 2024 in the first place didn't start out right for me.
In January, I forever lost contact with the man whom I considered not only as my mentor of many years but also as my very own father. All because I was trying to answer his plea for me to help him from his manipulative and paranoid son. In the end, his son painted me as the villain. And I am forever banned from seeing him again.
Last February, my wife almost died. She had heart surgery due to a complication caused by her spreading cancer. We were charged more than a million pesos for it. For three frantic weeks, I desperately begged for financial help. I did receive plenty of aid from countless kindhearted people, most of whom were total strangers to me. But I didn't receive any help at all —not even a simple consolatory message— from those whom I expected to be there for me. My father's immediate family members and many close friends and associates totally abandoned me in my hour of need. So I swore to myself to never communicate with them ever again.
And just this month, or a few days ago, I was disrespected and humiliated by an alcoholic cousin-in-law when I defended his battered wife (my cousin) and his son (my nephew) from him and his hooligan cousins and friends. I really wanted to beat him up but couldn't because of several circumstances: I was hopelessly outnumbered, his uncle owns the apartment unit where my family lives, etc.
Each time I tried to reflect on the significance of the Paschal Triduum, the abovementioned incidents became a difficult hurdle to overcome. Each rosary bead was enunciated with spite within me. Each waking day was met with rancor and resentment, and all nights filled with unrest.
I wanted revenge. I wanted retribution.
My sane mind tells me to forgive them, as God forgives me from my sins. But hatred always triumphs over my better judgment. My lame excuse: I'm only human.
To make matters worse, the spiteful emotions brewing inside me were compounded with grief and fear as I am faced with the scary thought that my wife is slowly dying.
I am not the type to question God for my fate, why the abovementioned incidents happened to me in monthly succession, nor to wonder what plans He has in store for me. For sure, He did not cause my wife's cancer, nor did He want strife to occur between me and other people. For sure, He had wanted nothing but the best for me — for all of us. But I find it illogical to have an implicitly determinist view of God's relationship with us mere mortals.
He gave us all freewill. But freewill has its ramifications. Those ramifications were what caused the ordeals that I had to face and endure. The only problem is how I overcome the negative feelings inside me to receive the graces that He is willing to give me through fervent and incessant prayer. This past Holy Week, I think I failed in that division.
Of course it is not too late. Because here I am writing about it and sharing it to you. I may be battle-weary but have never lost faith, and I am confident I never will. I am certain, too, that I will face more trials and tribulations for as long as I live, "mourning and weeping in this valley of tears". Such is life, as they always say.
If there is anything I learned from all of this... I guess anger is really a gift because it reminds me of how truly weak I am, that I am not a great person, and that my anger signals me that God is just there waiting for me to have Him take full control of my emotions.
I am a forgiving person, but right now I am not ready for it as I am severely battered and bruised. But I will allow the hopeful notion that "time heals all wounds" to take its due course and see if it works. With God's grace and guidance.
Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ suffered more than I did. The hurt that I felt was nothing more but a slap on the wrist compared to what he went through. Yet there was not a single drop of anger in Him. That is what I —or we— need to learn.
¡Alégrate! ¡Jesús ha resucitado! ¡Feliz Pascua de Resurrección!
No comments:
Post a Comment