De Profundis/ Exsultate Justi

Two weeks have gone by since the rescuing of the nine coal miners in western Pennsylvania. My eyes were glued to the TV well into early Sunday morning. As some of you know, it is a rare force that keeps me up past 10:00 PM. The resurrection of Jesus is one of those forces.

After hours of watching the herculean work of digging and setting up the drilling rigs, the despair when the drilling bit breaks, the drilling of a new hole-all of these events, plus the vigil of the friends and families numbed by what could happen, constructed a scene of profound pathos.

Here are nine men trapped underground in a space that could have been their tomb. It was hewn out of rock. It was sealed. It was final.

Millions of people joined the tomb-watchers and we waited. New meaning was given to Psalm 130: De profundis, ad te clamavi Domino. "Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord."

Three days later after a superhuman effort to reach the miners, they are released.

Not simply released, but raised up, ascended-more quickly than anyone estimated-and are welcomed with cheers, applause, and, if there were trumpets, they would have been blasting.

One of the miners reported that he was so amazed at how bright everything was and how many people were there and "they were applauding!"

His comments collapsed me.

I thought immediately of the images of Psalm 47: "All you peoples, clap your hands, shout to God with cries of gladness," and "God mounts his throne amid shouts of joy; the Lord, amid trumpet blasts." The crowd was delirious. If there were streets, they would have been danced upon.

All nine were alive. All were able to tell their tale to the living. What was seen to be lost is now seen as a triumph over death.

Alleluia.

Let me extend the scene backwards about ten months and relocate it about ten or twelve miles east. The mine was that close to the spot where Flight 93 went down on September 11.

This time it is Jesus dying with the passengers and crew of that flight. Isn't it curious to conjure up the shape of an airplane and extend that design to-shall we say-a cross?

The ground was made sacred forever with the deaths of these innocent victims of hatred. The heroes who wrested control of the cockpit and thwarted the plan of another attack on the nation's capital refashioned this tragedy into the stuff that legends are made of.

Heroic. Self-sacrificing. The death of some to save the many. The ground is holy.

No one would have ever guessed that months later on the same mountain in this remote part of western Pennsylvania, the power of the death-crushing-death of Jesus would ransom nine captives buried deep in the ground.

It is true. What Jesus did and Jesus said, Jesus says and does until the kingdom has come. Professor Don Saliers taught that to me a hundred years ago at Notre Dame, and I have been exulting over it ever since.

Many have joined me. Especially two weeks ago. Exsultate justi in Domino. Rejoice, you just, in the Lord.

You can reach Fred Moleck via email at fmoleck@earthlink.net