Fr Marco Lazzaron
ho has never experienced doors slammed in their face? Who has never closed the door on someone else? Who has never found themselves, unwillingly, shut inside, unable to let others come close? Stories of closed doors, like that of the Upper Room, when the disciples hid away for fear of meeting the same fate as the Master. And yet that day is different from all others: it is a beginning never seen before, the irruption of life, because with Christ’s resurrection Eternity breaks into time.
Yet it often happens that something new appears and we do not even notice it, because the important things are understood only later. In fact, the apostles paid little attention to the words of the women, the first witnesses of the resurrection, and remained prisoners of their terror. Nevertheless, Jesus chooses this frightened Church and stands “in their midst,” almost to remind us that fear should not be at the center of life, but rather his very person.
The Risen One is the sun radiating the light of his peace. When I visit elderly people, the wish they always offer to themselves and to me is “peace and health”. We could say that peace is the sign of spiritual health, of a life that has been saved, and only the Lord can give it.
Jesus’ gift does not stop there. He entrusts the disciples with his very own mission. It does not matter that they are only a small group, that they are not doctors of the law, that they did not always prove capable of understanding his words, or that they abandoned him in the most difficult moment. Nor does it matter that doubt now enters their hearts and that they think everything is over and that they have gotten everything wrong. Jesus enters into all of this; he places himself amid our fears because he knows that his Spirit can renew all things.
The breath of the Spirit recalls the origin of creation. Now it is given anew, not to eliminate what we are, but to take what we are and renew it. The Spirit does not create different things, but makes all things new. God destroys nothing, but loves and continues to love what we are, even when sin disfigures us.
The Holy Spirit restores vitality. A few days ago, I watered a plant that had gone without water for a long time. Its movement back to life was almost imperceptible, but it was there—I saw it. As soon as the dry earth received water, it absorbed it immediately, and the plant quivered with that vital sap and gradually lifted itself again. That is how the Spirit works: it is given to us, and our task is simply to be willing to receive it. And through this gift we are enlivened, healed, transformed, and regenerated.
This does not mean that our limitations will disappear, that worries will vanish, or that life will flow peacefully without problems. Rather, it means that everything we live through will remind us that we are children of God, and that at last we will be able to live as such, without always feeling inadequate or wrong. The Spirit comes to renew us and to make us channels through which the lives of others may be watered.
Besides our divine sonship, what is the other great mystery into which the Spirit immerses us? Only the Lord can forgive sins and free us from the chains of evil. And yet Jesus tells us that this divine power passes through us. Here the reference is not only to the sacramental authority of ordained ministers, but to the calling of every member of the Church to reconcile brothers and sisters with the community and with the Father through prayer, witness, and the offering of one’s life.
Holy Spirit, Lord of Light,
From the clear celestial height
Thy pure beaming radiance give.
Come, thou Father of the poor,
Come with treasures which endure
Come, thou light of all that live!
Thou, of all consolers best,
Thou, the soul’s delightful guest,
Dost refreshing peace bestow
Thou in toil art comfort sweet
Pleasant coolness in the heat
Solace in the midst of woe.
Light immortal, light divine,
Visit thou these hearts of thine,
And our inmost being fill:
If thou take thy grace away,
Nothing pure in man will stay
All his good is turned to ill.
Heal our wounds, our strength renew
On our dryness pour thy dew
Wash the stains of guilt away:
Bend the stubborn heart and will
Melt the frozen, warm the chill
Guide the steps that go astray.
Thou, on us who evermore
Thee confess and thee adore,
With thy sevenfold gifts descend:
Give us comfort when we die
Give us life with thee on high
Give us joys that never end