On Being “Hopeful Lamenters”

December 13, 2023

Fr. John Riccardo

“Rejoice always. Pray without ceasing. In all circumstances give thanks, for this is the will of God for you in Christ Jesus.

Do not quench the Spirit. Do not despise prophetic utterances.

Test everything; retain what is good. Refrain from every kind of evil.

May the God of peace make you perfectly holy and may you entirely, spirit, soul, and body, be preserved blameless for the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ. The one who calls you is faithful, and he will also accomplish it.”

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24


There’s a most momentous scene in the history of Israel when Queen Esther longs to approach Ahasuerus, the pagan King to whom she is married. In those days, nobody could approach the King unless he granted it, and you couldn’t just call up his executive assistant to request an appointment. Esther, you’ll recall, lived at the time when the King’s right-hand man, Haaman, is plotting to kill all the Jews in the realm. The King is unaware both of this plot, and of the fact that Esther is Jewish, as her ethnicity was hidden from him. Mordecai, Esther’s uncle, exhorts the young queen to go to the King so as to save her people, even if it puts her life in danger. “Who knows,” Mordecai says, “whether you have not come to the kingdom for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:14). 

This scene has been lingering in my mind for many months now but is especially vivid as we read Paul’s words this coming Sunday. Paul’s words are fitting for the season of Advent, since he speaks about “the coming of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Preparing for that real return is the focal point of these days in the Church. But what are we supposed to be doing until He comes and makes all things new (cf. Rev 21:5)? Many things, to be sure, but Paul highlights two: first, growing in ever-more perfect holiness in “spirit, soul and body” (that is, in all of me); second, prayer. I’d like to concentrate our attention on the second, which is why I’m thinking of Esther. 

If we’re baptized, that sacrament was no mere ritual; something happened to us. One of the things that happened to us was that we were made priests. My experience is that many people have heard that, but most have no concept of what difference that actually makes. What’s the big deal about being a priest? What do priests have? They have access – access to God! Nobody (OK, one guy, once a year, with a rope around his waist – in case he died) had access to God in the Old Testament. You couldn’t just stroll into the Holy of Holies. On Good Friday, though, the veil in the Temple that closed off the Holy of Holies was torn…from top to bottom. In other words, God tore it. Jesus’ death and resurrection has opened up the way for us now to enter into God’s courts, anytime we want. This is quite simply amazing. 

The image of Esther is with me now every morning as I walk into the chapel and begin to pray. It’s as if I see myself standing outside this massive hall, majestic and beautiful beyond description. I see angels attending and worshiping the King of kings and Lord of lords. I see our Lady and the saints in joyful fellowship; and I see especially the Lord Himself seated upon His glorious throne. And just as King Ahasuerus saw Esther outside the courts and extended his scepter, thus granting her access, so the Lord looks at me and, smiling, does the same. He reminds me that because of all He has done we can approach Him. And just as Esther brought the plight of her people before the king so we are allowed to bring the many plights we are aware of before the true King. No, not just “allowed.” This coming into God’s courts is one of the privileged missions that belong to us as disciples. 


N. T. Wright, in a new book entitled Into the Heart of Romans: A Deep Dive into Paul’s Greatest Letter, reminds us that even as creation is groaning, awaiting the return of the King, so we also groan awaiting the fullness of redemption (cf. Romans 8:22-23). This groaning, I suggest, is intimately tied to our mission of being priests. Wright reminds us, “We are called – in the Messiah’s Spirit – to share in the pain of the world….Our vocation,” he continues, “places us, right now, where the world is in pain, so that…we can be in prayer right there” (p. 148). 


To live and announce that message [Jesus is Lord] in and to the world, with the world in its current state, means engaging with the world's reality, its turmoil, its trouble, its tears. And we can't simply say 'Well, that's all right, because Jesus is the answer.' Nor can we say, 'Well, of course the world's a mess, because it doesn't know Jesus; but we're alright, heading for salvation somewhere else; we don't really belong here, we're just passing through… No: part of our primary calling as followers of Jesus is to lament: to stand in the place of pain in humility, sorrow and hope… It's what we are called to do as we stand in prayer at the heart of a world in pain (p. 141, italics mine). 


We in ACTS XXIX think of this mission of ours as priests as being “hopeful lamenters.” Hopeful because Jesus is Lord, and He has defeated Sin, Death and Satan, and He will make all things new. But lamenting because the world is right now groaning in pain – so much pain – and so we also are in pain as we read the news, live with and in the heartaches of our own families, and deal with our own brokenness.


As we enter into prayer each day this week, let us be mindful that the King has graciously extended His scepter and is allowing us access. Let us bring Him those many, many people and situations that are causing us to cry out deeply in groans beyond speech. But let us do so with unshakable hope. Jesus is Lord. He knows what He’s doing. He will make all things new.


Come, Lord Jesus! 

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