Missed Opportunities
It’s during the cemetery scene in James Joyce’s classic novel Ulysses, amid all its memorial statues, that Leopold Bloom recalls the raising of Lazarus in John’s Gospel and there occurs to him an old Irish witticism: “Come forth, Lazarus! And he came fifth and lost the job.”
How many missed opportunities do we experience in our lives? “Opportunity knocks,” they say, offering us ever-new horizons to explore – but we are so often deaf to it. For instance there was that Dutch girl (en route to Goucher College) whom I met by the railing of a Holland America transatlantic liner the evening before our arrival in New York. I was a seminarian returning from Rome, only 25 years old, and a vague thought of changing my vocation occurred to me – but I let the occasion pass. Sixty-two years later I still wonder whatever became of her. How many tales or stories tell of sudden detours that carry one into new dimensions – like the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland or the wardrobe in The Chronicles of Narnia – that open up into a world of often redeeming adventure?
As I mentioned, I did continue on as a seminarian to complete my theology training – but became restless. Maybe it was due to my native ignorance, but theology was dry as dust to me in the abstract, technical, unimaginative format in which it was taught. In retrospect I realize I was not challenged to think but to recite textbook formulae so that I looked forward to graduation when I could relate to people instead of books.
But then another opportunity opened up. I was sent on to study Scripture – in depth, not superficially like a fundamentalist but with all the tools available to human intelligence and an awakened imagination. Thence, in the study, contemplation, and fascination I experienced with biblical drama, images, themes, and inspiration I passed through an open door I’m so glad I didn’t miss – without which I feel I might still be adrift down an endless corridor of closed doors or opportunities that by comparison offered only a series of dead ends.
And so Thomas, who missed that first Easter Sunday opportunity to see the risen Jesus, was fortunate enough to be present on the following Sunday when he had a second chance – and I like to think that he never had to prove Jesus was alive by touching his wounds. I like to think he felt, like I did after an in depth immersion in biblical wisdom and drama, a sense of discovery that could only be expressed in the way my mother used to express a moment of profound surprise – with words akin to “Oh my God!” A theological expression loaded with awe!
How many Sunday opportunities to experience Christ raised from death and the deadliness of a meaningless world, Christ tangible in bread and wine and radiant with words like “Peace be with you!” – how many Sundays have you (like Thomas) missed that opportunity because of distraction or a lack of understanding of what the Eucharist is all about, or an inability to understand the Scripture readings? Not to worry, for like Thomas another chance of resurrection awaits you every Sun-Day, the first day of a new week, a new life if you can only in some way be present to the meaning, the permeation of it all. But of course that means attendance, attentive attendance, a readiness to allow Christ to pass through whatever door you hide behind.