Awakening

A Reflection on the Gospel for Sunday, November 17th, 2024:
Thirty-Third Sunday in Ordinary Time

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Daniel
​12.1-3

At that time Michael, the great prince, the protector of your people, shall arise. There shall be a time of anguish, such as has never occurred since nations first came into existence. But at that time your people shall be delivered, everyone who is found written in the book. Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake, some to everlasting life, and some to shame and everlasting contempt.

Those who are wise shall shine like the brightness of the sky, and those who lead many to righteousness, like the stars forever and ever.

Pause. Pray. Reflect.

This section of the book of Daniel is titled “The Resurrection of the Dead.” The first time I read it, I felt a pit in my stomach. Eeek. This seems to be talking about end times and final judgements – which inherently makes me apprehensive. What will this time of anguish look like? Are we at the beginning of this time now? How will I be judged? Although these questions still stir around in my head, I am drawn to the word “resurrection.” It makes me think of awakening, of being restored to life. Although these verses from Daniel refer to the resurrection of the dead, I am pondering the smaller, everyday “resurrections” we go through after we’ve fallen “asleep.” 

“Many of those who sleep in the dust of the earth shall awake…”

I feel like I am constantly falling back asleep. Not physically, like when I’m in bed and I hit snooze just one more time, but rather asleep to the beauty, joy, and wonder this world offers us, this world God offers us. Like the indescribable beauty of a sunset drenched in shades of red, pink, and orange, reflecting off a perfectly still lake. The sound of crashing ocean waves as the sun glistens off each crest again and again. The deep intimacy that comes from close relationships centred around Jesus. The taste of a warm, chocolatey brownie with vanilla ice cream on top. Yum!

The world pulls hard at my gaze, drawing it downwards, forcing my lids to close just a little more as I drift off to “sleep.” When this happens, I am ungrateful, irritable, and operating on a serious deficit of hope. I have angry outbursts at work, I am frustrated by that person who cut me off in traffic, and I can’t shake the feeling that I’m on a proverbial hamster wheel running faster and faster yet getting nowhere. I can’t see the Light, the “brightness of the sky”; it’s just all darkness. But then, after crying out in desperation, Hope swoops in, whispering gently in my ear to arise, to look up. He reminds me that resurrection is possible. He offers me restoration in the Eucharist, in the confessional, and sometimes in the form of a praise and worship song that speaks to my heart. A song that fills me with the Holy Spirit, giving me a deep sense of peace, and confidence that He will never leave me. 

In those final days, which Daniel describes, I am comforted knowing that I will not be judged by how many times I have fallen asleep, but by how many times I have awakened again.




Lisa Matheson​

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