A Reflection for Wednesday of the Second Week of Easter

 

A Reflection for Wednesday of the Second Week of Easter By Edward Desciak Find today’s readings here. God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him. Whoever believes in him will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned, because he has not believed in the name of the only-begotten Son of God. And this is the verdict, that the light came into the world, but people preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed. But whoever lives the truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God. (Jn 3:16-21) I quote the entirety of today’s Gospel both because I think it speaks for itself and because I want to point out the effect of reading this whole passage together. John 3:16—or the thesis of John’s Gospel, as America contributing editor Michael Simone, S.J., put it—is so familiar to us that it can become difficult to read with fresh eyes. Like the Our Father or the responses at Mass, we have likely heard the opening verse of today’s Gospel thousands of times, maybe more. The rest of the passage is also familiar, but slightly less so, and when reviewing it in anticipation of my reflection, I found it somewhat jarring. “Whoever does not believe has already been condemned.... People preferred darkness to light, because their works were evil. For everyone who does wicked things hates the light.” These sections mark a sharp tonal shift within a passage widely thought of as one of the most joyful, affirming and moving parts of the Gospels: the powerful announcement that God loves us so much that he would give his only-begotten son for us.  It seems, to my woo-woo liberal sensibilities, a little harsh—especially after we just prayed for all people, including those who do not believe in Jesus or God on Good Friday in the solemn intercessions. But the contrast here generates a powerful effect. Famous Baroque period painters like Caravaggio and Rembrandt embraced a technique known as chiaroscuro, meaning light-dark in Italian, to create stark contrasts in their work. The use of shadow amplifies the subjects that are illuminated, making them stand out more while also rendering them bare and unadorned—often to the effect of making characters appear more vulnerable, more human. I am no scholar of art history, so forgive the potentially tortured comparison and reconstruction of a topic I learned about in high school, but I think a similar thing happens in today’s Gospel.  The Gospel’s mixture of cautions with consolations—that the God who loves us infinitely still has the ability to name evil, to recognize and punish it—encapsulates the beautiful tension of the Christian faith. It is a faith of immense solace, of boundless hope in the cosmic destiny of man’s capacity for goodness under God’s guidance. But it is also a faith that recognizes our brokenness, our shortcomings and our continual choosing of sin.  It is hard to see the good without the bad, the light without the dark. God gives us his love freely, but it is up to us to choose it for ourselves. That God trusts us enough to give us the option to reject him makes our free acceptance of him all the sweeter. Edward Desciak is an O'Hare Fellow at America Media.