Three Types of Sleep (Homily on Easter Vigil)

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irst type—sleep of the senses. This is not numbness or callousness. Rather, it is a kind of sleep because our senses—especially our spiritual senses—have not yet been awakened. St Ignatius of Loyola speaks of awakening the senses through a prayer method he calls the Application of the Senses—to see, hear, taste, smell, and touch the presence of God in meditation and contemplation.

Over lunch last Tuesday, one of our first-year novices shared what he was researching on this topic. Then I pointed to the mango on my plate and asked, “Suppose this is my first time in my whole life to taste a ripe mango. Before I dig my teeth into the fruit, could you describe its mangoness to me?” He began, “It’s sweet… watery… soft…” But he struggled. He realized he could not fully describe it.

Like a moment of illumination, he exclaimed, “That’s it! I now understand Ignatian Application of the Senses. It is an encounter. No matter how I describe the taste, words will fail. I must taste it myself. The mango alone can teach me its true mangoness—no one else can. Not through words or any language, but only through experience.”

Sisters and brothers, that is how most of us live our spiritual lives. We speak about how sweet, soft, or refreshing an experience might be—and we stop there. We fail to encounter it, to taste it for ourselves. We speak about God. We read about God. We explain God—and we stop there. Then we fail to truly taste God.

We must ask ourselves why do you think we need to go through Paschal Triduum every year? For me I always need a Good Friday and Easter, to wake me up from my sleep of the senses.

I then told the novice, “In your next prayer, thank the Lord for this. It is an important insight and awakening which you will need for the rest of your life.”

Second type—sleep of attachments: I like what Anthony de Mello once said: most people live asleep. They are not physically asleep, of course, but psychologically and spiritually asleep.

He tells a humorous story. An elderly father knocks on the door of his son who is still asleep. “Jaime, wake up. You have to go to school.” Jaime replies, “I don’t want to go to school, Papa.” “Why not?” the father asks. “First, it’s dull. Second, the children tease me. Third, I hate school.” The father answers, “Well, I’ll give you three reasons why you must go. First, it’s your duty. Second, you’re 45 years old. And third, you’re the headmaster. You have to go to school!” Wake up. Wake up. You’ve grown up. You’re too big to be asleep. Wake up. Stop playing with your toys.

De Mello’s point is simple but profound: we go through life asleep. Worse, we often do not want to wake up. We become attached to our “toys”—our comforts, our habits, our attachments.

Even St Ignatius had to wake up from playing with his toys. These were success, fame, and honors. But all these crumbled when his right leg was shattered. He could no longer continue playing with his toys.

Being struck by a cannonball at the age of thirty was only the tip of the iceberg. For Ignatius, the broken bones were painful, but something deeper was breaking. His heart was broken. Yet, through all this breaking, he finally woke up. I remember my own small awakening. I was once very attached to Facebook. I thought life would be impossible without it. Then I was assigned as a parish priest in a remote place in Bukidnon, where the signal was very poor. It robbed me of sleep and prayer time. But the very inconvenience became the grace that slowly awakened me.

I decided to delete my account, but the delete button did not appear at first—only the deactivate option. So I deactivated and waited for a month. When the day finally came, the delete button appeared. I pressed it. What I felt was liberation. I regained my freedom. I stopped playing with my virtual toys. It has now been ten years since that small awakening. We all find ourselves in the sleep of attachments which takes various forms. But the more important question is: Are you aware of them? Would you like to deactivate some, and when the time comes, would you like to delete?

Third type—sleep of optimism: Hope is not optimism. Pope Francis once said, “One should not confuse optimism with hope. Optimism is a psychological attitude toward life. Hope goes further than that… God is involved.”

Optimism relies on what the world alone can give. It is based on human efforts to build one’s own security; it is self-centered and lonely. Its foundation is mere “sand” rather than “rock.” When the storm comes, it can easily be washed away. In fact, one does not have to believe in God to be an optimist. But this can become a dangerous type of sleep.

I remember the story of Sleeping Beauty. Princess Aurora is cursed by the evil fairy Maleficent to die after pricking her finger on a spinning wheel on her sixteenth birthday. Thanks to the three good fairies, the curse is softened so that instead of dying, she falls into a deep sleep. She—and eventually the whole kingdom—falls asleep with her. Time stands still. Life pauses. Everything waits. She cannot wake herself. No one inside the castle can awaken her. Only the coming of the prince—true love—can awaken her with a kiss. The story reminds us that life itself can fall into a deep sleep—a sleep filled with fear, confusion, war, and conflict. These drain our energy, disturb our emotions, and rob us of shalom, of inner peace. Optimism alone is powerless.

Let us think of the ongoing wars in our world today. War is often driven by a kind of optimism—albeit a misguided one—that seeks selfish economic gain, power, and resources rather than the needs of ordinary people. These conflicts not only deepen our sleep but give us nightmares.

Now imagine if someone showed us a way to live in a peace that the world cannot give. Imagine if someone showed us how to truly love—even those who are difficult to love. This is the hope Jesus promises. Hope even in the midst of conflict and suffering.

So today, we ask for the grace to awaken our spiritual senses, to see that all is grace. We also ask to awaken from the sleep of attachments and from the sleep of optimism. Like Sleeping Beauty, we are awakened by a love beyond ourselves. Amen. Fr JM Manzano SJ