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from
Gift of Peace
by Joseph Cardinal Bernardin
Loyola Press
As I conclude this book, I am both exhausted and exhilarated. Exhausted
because the fatigue caused by the cancer is overwhelming. Exhilarated
because I have finished a book that has been very important to me.
As I write these final words, my heart is filled with joy. I am at peace.
It is the first day of November, and fall is giving way to winter. Soon
the
trees will lose the vibrant colors of their leaves and snow will cover the
ground.
The earth will shut down, and people will race to and from their
destinations
bundled up for warmth. Chicago winters are harsh. It is a time of dying.
But we know that spring will soon come with all its new life and wonder.
It is quite clear that I will not be alive in the spring. But I will soon
experience new life in a different way. Although I do not know what to
expect in
the afterlife, I do know that just as God has called me to serve him to
the best
of my ability throughout my life on earth, he is now calling me home.
Many people have asked me to tell them about heaven and the afterlife. I
sometimes smile at the request because I do not know any more than they
do.
Yet, when one young man asked if I looked forward to being united with God
and all those who have gone before me, I made a connection to something I
said earlier in this book. The first time I traveled with my mother and
sister to
my parents’ homeland of Tonadico di Primiero, in northern Italy, I felt as
if I had
been there before. After years of looking through my mother’s photo
albums, I
knew the mountains, the land, the houses, the people. As soon as we
entered
the valley, I said, “My God, I know this place. I am home.” Somehow I
think
crossing from this life into life eternal will be similar. I will be home.
What I would like to leave behind is a simple prayer that each of you may
find what I have found – God’s special gift to us all: the gift of peace.
When we
are at peace, we find the freedom to be most fully who we are, even in the
worst of times. We let go of what is nonessential and embrace what is
essential. We empty ourselves so that God may more fully work within us.
And
we become instruments in the hands of the Lord.
As I have said so often, if we seek communion with the Lord, we
must
pray. One of my favorite prayers is attributed to Saint Francis of Assisi.
Let us
conclude by reciting it together.
Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love.
Where there is injury, pardon.
Where there is doubt, faith.
Where there is despair, hope.
Where there is darkness, light.
Where there is sadness, joy.
O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled, as to console;
to be understood, as to understand;
to be loved, as to love;
for it is in giving that we receive,
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.
It is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
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