We don't have to be afraid

 

"When it was evening, the disciples ... embarked in a boat.  It had already grown dark….  The sea was stirred up because a strong wind was blowing....  They saw Jesus and they began to be afraid."  [John 6:16-21]

How many things are out there in the darkness in our lives?  How many things that make us afraid?  The state of the world.  The war.  The pandemic and its seemingly endless variants.  A friend with a serious illness.  Children who turn out differently than we expect.  Friendships and relationships that aren’t quite working.  Our parents declining.  Responsibilities that seem overwhelming.

There in the dark of our lives is that shapeless, formless fear.  We climb into the boat to escape it and row through the dimness, imagining that we’re fleeing it.  Where is Jesus?  He said He would be here.  We wait for Him, but He doesn’t come.  And so we row our heavy boat, not realizing that our little craft is weighed down with the baggage of our own fear.  We imagine that we’re leaving it behind in the fog and darkness that hangs over the water.  If only Jesus would come to us we could feel the peace we long for so much.

From across the water, we see Him.  Jesus walks over the waves towards us.  Our hearts jump at the audacity of this kind of power, and we row harder, fleeing the calm and the love on His face and wanting to escape the miracle we witness with our eyes.  He’s here and we’re terrified.  Of what? 

What if He tells us to stop rowing? 

How would we react if He calmed the seas and lit the skies and we saw that the terrors looming in our lives were simply the stuff of life?  And then what?  If there was nothing more to dread, where would we focus our lives?  What would it cost us to let go of the fears that drive us each day?

“Don't be afraid,” He says.  “I'm here with you.  I'm always here with you, even when it's dark and you can't see me.”

He stands next to the boat smiling at us and we allow ourselves to put the oars down.  We don't have to be afraid.  Life isn’t easy, but He’s always next to us, inviting us to rest in the gaze of His eyes, so full of love for us.  The terror subsides as we look into His gentle eyes, feel His courage fill us and realize that rather than being lost at sea, our boat is gently bumping the edge of the shoreline.

It's a good day for a miracle

 

“This is truly the Prophet, the one who is to come into the world.”  This verse from John’s Gospel was the reaction of many to Jesus, as He turned five loaves and two fish into a feast for thousands [John 6:1-15].   Many of us spend our lives waiting to see miracles of this magnitude performed; to see firsthand the power of God.  I’m often challenged myself, as I wait for God to move mightily in a very visible way.  But I could use a change of perspective—to see God working every day, in a much more ordinary, but no less amazing fashion.

If a miracle is an extraordinary event believed to be caused by God’s power, then the word ‘miracle’ has a much broader definition than walking on water.  When I look at my own life, I’m amazed at the power of God, and I should count every blessing a miracle.  Finding my most perfect wife—miracle; being a father and grandfather—miracle; freely able to worship and praise God wherever I am at any time—miracle; being genuinely happy when I wake up every morning—miracle.  Imagine our world if we could see and appreciate all of the “mini miracles.”  We’d see that we’re loved by a Creator who wants to bless us daily.

When we are on the receiving end of a miracle, what’s our reaction?  “Jesus took the loaves, gave thanks.”  There’s no greater example than Jesus.  He knew the power of the Father, and immediately gave Him the thanks He rightfully deserved.  What a lesson for me, to not only see the miracle, but then to glorify the Father in response.  I’m already looking forward to the next miracle in my life.  And when it comes, I know how I want to react.  Every day is a good day for a miracle.

Grace is not rationed

 

At wartime, when soldiers have a scarce amount of food, they have to ration it.  They only eat small, measured portions each day so that the food will last as long as possible.  If they do not, they may run out and starve. 

What if this were the case with God and His grace?  What if the Holy Spirit were to say to us, “Now I’m only going to help you to a limited degree.  Once you use up the grace I’m offering you, you’re on your own.”  Ouch!  That would be problematic.

I’d like to picture myself as one who exudes a loving peace and calm, leading a constant interior prayer life and always connected in some mystical way the Holy Spirit. .... But I'm not like that.

Instead, I’m more “high energy” (translation: impatient), tapping my feet and drumming my fingers at lines, waiting, traffic, frustrating situations, etc.  Yet sometimes, I’m flooded with the grace of patience and a peace in the midst of a situation that would normally be stressful.  I can recognize it right away and always feel grateful to the Holy Spirit for this new patience and peace that I’m certain doesn’t emanate from me.

John Gospel notes that the gifts of the Spirit are not rationed [John 3:31-36].  Instead those graces are given with a generous and overflowing love.  The fruits of the Holy Spirit are clear in our lives when we recognize them.  They include peace, patience, kindness, gentleness, charity and joy.  He doesn’t ration His gift of the Spirit.

And I think the opposite of these gifts are also clear.  When our days are filled with gossip, criticism and judgments, we’ve lost touch with the Spirit.  If we can easily see how others could improve their lives and we hold tightly to the grudges in our hearts, we’ve forgotten the generous heart of the Spirit Who is constantly pouring down graces on us.

Nothing can compare

 

While reading from the Acts of the Apostles today, I was reminded that we Christians are all called to share the Good News about Jesus.  Some of the apostles had been arrested for preaching about Jesus and had been placed in a public prison.  The apostles felt compelled to tell the story of Jesus and invite others to join them, so that they, too, might be saved [Acts 5:17-26].  I wonder how I would have reacted to being imprisoned for sharing the Good News about who Jesus is and what Jesus offers us followers?  I’d like to think that I would have kept on proclaiming Jesus, but I have to wonder if I would have trusted God’s plan under imprisonment.

It would have been amazing to have been released from prison by an angel of the Lord, and I think that part of the point of the story is just like the apostles are told by the angel; all followers of Jesus Christ are called to “tell the people the whole message about this life.”  The whole message is that Jesus loves us and everybody, that Jesus came to save us all, that Jesus calls us to follow Him in love and humility, and that Jesus invites us each day to choose life with Him.  For me that means being willing to try to be aware of my own greed, my own self-interest, my own judgments of others, and my need to be well thought of by others.  As I try to go deeper with Jesus in love, service, and commitment, Jesus always seems to invite me to “come away to a quiet place” [Mark 6:31] and to try to proclaim Jesus in my life.  Sometimes it’s easy to proclaim Jesus, and sometimes when I’m having a disagreement with someone about something, it’s not so easy.  I want to have things my way, and I don’t always feel open to a process of dialogue, listening, responding, and forming a plan together.  There are days when I would much rather leave out the messy, disturbing parts of life.  But all of us are called to live in the here and now of life, and called to walk the smooth roads, the bumpy roads, and roads in all kinds of condition on our journey with Jesus.

I believe that just as the apostles were transformed into bold proclaimers of Jesus after the coming of the Holy Spirit, all followers are called to be transformed as well.  How am I sharing the love of Jesus with my family today?  How do I share the love of Jesus with my neighbors and my co-workers?  How do I share the love of Jesus with those whom I don’t agree with and don’t particularly like?  These are questions that can lead me to reflect more deeply on how I’m following Jesus, and hopefully lead to action, just as the apostles were led to action.  I need to be with Jesus, in order to grow in my faith, but I also need to do, so that my faith is alive.

What an amazing gift God has given us.  He sent His Son to redeem each of us [John 3:16-21].  We can easily see ourselves as insignificant, just because of the sheer numbers of people who share this planet with us now, not to mention throughout history.  We can see what we do as insignificant in comparison with the brilliant, the great, the famous and those known for their holiness.  We can see our insignificance in so many ways, but God doesn’t see any of us as insignificant.  He sent His Son for each of us individually.

What a love that is!  I wonder why it’s so incomprehensible.  All we have to do is accept that love.  We make the choice.  God doesn’t choose whether to love us.  He loves us—period!  We make the choice whether to accept His love and live in His light or reject His love and live in the dark.  It seems like a no-brainer.

One might wonder what would ever lead us to reject this most fantastic gift.  But what’s most awesome about all of this is that when we’re foolish enough to reject His gift, it’s still there for us.  He doesn’t take away the redemptive power of His Son.  His love is there for us to accept.  In that love there’s total comfort and security, no matter what else is going on around us.  There’s nothing in our human experience that can begin to compare to the gift of Easter.

“Look to him that you may be radiant with joy, and your faces may not blush with shame.” [Psalm 34]

Everything in common

 

The resurrection really matters.  It makes a difference.  Life is different because it happened. [John 3:7-15]

We spend a lot of time during the Easter Season (the 50 days between the Resurrection and Pentecost) watching and learning about the early Christian community revealed in the Acts of the Apostles.  They had so much to figure out, so much to understand.  How was their encounter with Jesus to matter, if at all?  And especially, what difference was their encounter with the Risen Jesus going to have in their lives?

Most of the early chapters of Acts of the Apostles highlights their growing sense of community.  Phrases like “the community of believers was of one heart and mind” and “they had everything in common” reveal a deepening understanding of being connected, bound together.  In the ordinary lives they lived, these early believers knew they had to live differently.  “There was no needy person among them.” And for those who had more than they needed, it was “distributed to each according to need.” [Acts 4:32-37]

Our cultural tendency toward individualism is a challenge to living our faith.  Our political and social differences become exaggerated, driving us farther apart.  We self-protect more than we reach out to help.  But what so often captures our imaginations are news stories of valiant volunteers responding to neighbors in need, or of communities of sisters, brothers and priests living a common life in communities of faith.  We’re inspired by them because they tap something fundamental inside us.  We know we’re our better selves when we are in community, caring for others.  The early believers understood this…even if they didn’t perfectly live it.  And we understand it, also.  We just need to find simple ways each day to live it.

So many possibilities

“Go into the whole world and proclaim the Gospel to every creature.” [Mark 16:15-20]

As human beings, we have so many possibilities of how we might proclaim–literally be a herald of–the Good News that is Jesus Christ.  Every day we have opportunities to speak and embody in our actions the coming into being of the Kingdom of God.  Every day we’re invited to move more deeply into being the unique part of the body of Christ that only we can be, that’s so necessary to the whole.  Every day we have new opportunities to shine the light that is God’s gift to us and, through us, to the whole world.

Truly, we have set before us, each moment, life and death [Deuteronomy 30:15].  What we choose matters not only for us but for all.  Our every word and action ripples out, carrying with it either life or death.  We see that so clearly in the words and actions of our leaders.  And we’re no different.

And if we need guidance, we’ve heard from Jesus’ own lips, that He Himself has been anointed “to bring glad tidings to the poor…to proclaim liberty to captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free” [Luke 4:18,21].  

This is our work also, each of us and together, as heralds of the Gospel to every creature.

Feeling blessed

 

When I read about the Apostle Thomas, two thoughts immediately come to my mind.  First, to pray for my brother Tom, who was named after one of the Twelve.  The other is the Gospel story and the familiar term of ‘Doubting Thomas’.  “Hah,” I think to myself, “that wouldn’t have been me.  I don’t have to see Jesus to believe.”

But then, doubt creeps in.

When I reflect on it, I feel I should give Doubting Thomas the benefit of the doubt.  I’ve heard my entire life about Jesus and the resurrection, about God made man.  Thomas was able to meet Jesus and be with Him, but Thomas knew Jesus as a man.  Jesus understood He was asking a lot of the apostles, including Thomas.  He gently told Thomas: “Blessed are those who have not seen and believed.”  [John 20:19-31]

We all doubt.  We doubt our own ability.  We doubt our loved ones.  We don’t feel confident in what we believe.  We feel abandoned.  We’re not sure we’re worth much.

But the good news is that we can believe in Jesus, in the crucifixion and the resurrection.  Even if we can’t touch the nail marks or the scourges in Jesus’ side, we can believe in the presence of Jesus in our lives.

And if we believe in that presence, we have to erase the doubt about ourselves and others.  Today also is the Sunday of Divine Mercy, fitting as God’s mercy compels us to act, to forgive, to console, to help.  Acting with mercy compels us to overcome our doubts about ourselves and about others.  I can help.  I can contribute.  I can see Jesus in others and in myself.

Actions speak louder than words

 

I felt called to reflect today on the depth of faith I’m called to exhibit, and my need to express that faith.  I think it’s best summed up with the old adage:  "Actions speak louder than words." [1 John 3:18]

In an excerpt from Acts, we see Peter and John in a conflict with their Jewish brethren over the significance of Jesus.  There’s incontrovertible evidence that a man crippled since birth had been cured through the intercession of Jesus.  Yet for the Jewish officials to acknowledge this fact would undermine their own authority.  So they enjoined Peter and John not to speak to anyone in the name of Jesus.  Their reply was, "It is impossible for us not to speak about what we have seen and heard." [Acts 4:13-21]

I wonder why they felt compelled.  Did they recall being rebuked by Jesus for their unbelief of Mary Magdalene, and other eyewitnesses, who had contact with Jesus after His resurrection?   When they shared their experiences, the witnesses were not believed.   Even though His followers had spent years learning from Him and seeing the truth of His message, even though He had given them ample forewarning of what was to come, they couldn’t believe the words of their trusted companions that Jesus had risen.  Only when Jesus Himself appeared to them could they begin to accept His resurrection.  Only when they were filled with the Spirit did they feel the compulsion to speak out [Mark 16:9-15].

Is Jesus speaking to us across the years as well as to His disciples, rebuking us because we don’t believe the words of those "who saw him after he had been raised?"  Of course He is.  He also recognizes that it’s much harder for us because of the distance of time and our need to rely on the words of others.  But He still calls us to believe.

Does Jesus expect that it be impossible for us not to speak about what we’ve seen and heard?  Yes, but we must ask ourselves what it is that we’ve seen and heard.  We’re not eyewitnesses to the events of 2000 years ago, but eyewitnesses to today's reality.  And that reality is that Jesus lives among us, in the hungry, the thirsty, the naked, the sick, the oppressed.  And so it should be impossible for us not to speak out about what we see and hear.  It should be impossible for us not to ease the pain of those in whom Christ lives, just as Peter and John felt compelled to call on Jesus to help the crippled man.  We "speak" when we act.  If we believe the words of those "who saw him after he had been raised," then it will be impossible for us not to speak.

And so today I pray that my belief in the resurrection can be strengthened so that I may speak about what I have seen.

Comfort food

 

Because I watch a lot of programs on the Food Network, one of first things I thought of when I read the Gospel today was comfort food.  I’m thinking that the experience of comfort food is universal.  A meal, a dish, possibly prepared by a particular individual which brings with it not only the comfort of being fed, warm food on a cold empty stomach, but also elicits the warmth of memories of times past and the reassurance of healing and strength in times to come.

We Americans speak a lot of comfort food – maybe meat loaf and mashed potatoes or mac-n-cheese ideal for a damp and drizzly evening or homemade soup and dense crusty bread on a cold blustery day.  Often families have traditional meals served in times of grief and mourning.  A favorite treat meal in times of healing.  Each nationality, each culture, each region, each family celebrates, honors certain events and times with specific meals.  There’s nothing universally significant about the dish itself.  The memories evoked and the relationships attached to the dish or meal give it significance.  Comfort food is a symbol of the comfort and consolation experienced in the sharing of a particular meal in the midst of true companionship and intimate relationship.

I can only imagine the number of times Jesus and His beloved disciples shared a meal of fresh fish cooked over an open fire on the beach, but I’m pretty sure the Gospel of John is the only one recorded [John 21:1-14].  What could be more comforting than the fruits of their labor shared in the intimacy of their relationship?   After the miraculous catch of fish and on seeing the figure on the shore, they didn’t need to ask, “Who are you?”  They knew in their hearts who He was.  He called them "children", He invited them to “come have breakfast.”  He fed them the comfort meal of open-fire roasted catch of the day.  Again, we can only imagine the consolation, comfort and reassurance these seven men experienced as Jesus took the bread and fish and gave it to them in a way that only He could – as He had done so many times before. Consolation, comfort and reassurance filled their hearts at a time when they least expected it.  They were in grief and mourning for their beloved Jesus who was no longer with them – or so they thought.

During this joyful Easter season, I pray I can be open to the unexpected presence of the risen Lord.  I pray for those who hunger for essential nourishment, and for those who hunger for the Spirit of comfort, consolation, and reassurance.

Second (third, fourth, fifth....) chances

 

I re-read Peter’s address to the crowd in Acts 3 today [Acts 3:11-16].  I found it to be quite humorous as I thought of Peter addressing the crowd with such self-assurance, and such self-confidence that he was almost condescending!  Not long before this speech before the Sanhedrin, it was Peter himself dropping the keys after being installed as prince of the apostles, given the keys to the kingdom of heaven, and called “rock” (or Cephas) by Jesus!  Shortly after that Jesus called him Satan because he tried to derail Jesus from His vocation (“Get behind me!”) [Matthew 16:13-23].  So, when Peter proclaimed, “Why are you amazed at this, and why do you look so intently at us as if we had made him walk by our own power or piety?” it brought to mind the Gospel when Jesus, in the upper room after the Resurrection, had asked His disciples — Peter included — a question as well, “Why are you troubled? And why do questions arise in your hearts?” [Luke 24:36-49].

But I’m really no different than Peter; my faith can swing from certitude to doubt in a moment.  So, I have a special place in my heart for what I’ve come to call the “second chance” narratives in the Gospels.  Like when Jesus told the parable of the unproductive fig tree; the owner wished to cut it down because after three years it still produced no fruit.  But his servant offered to cultivate around it and fertilize and give it a little more time [Luke 13:1-9].  A second chance.

There’s also the story in Mark 8 when Jesus heals the blind man of Bethsaida, but the man responds, “Yes, I can see, but people appear like trees walking!”  And Jesus must try again, healing the man for the second time [Mark 8:22-26].

I don’t know about anybody else, but I’m glad to be given a second chance.  And a third, and…

Many became believers

For the first time since the pandemic began, I didn’t feel very good today…until I happened to Acts 3.  It’s so upbeat!  It captures for me the essential joy of Easter.  I can just see the deliriously happy ex-cripple dancing around Peter and John.  And I can hear Peter telling everybody what it all means.

I think we can compare this story in Acts with John’s account of an equally remarkable cure, Jesus’ healing of a man born blind [John 9:1–37].  There, instead of rejoicing, which one should have expected, everybody ducks responsibility and even knowledge.  What blind man?  What cure?  Who?  Nobody wanted to get involved, to get into trouble.

If pious, observant, religious people could fail to see the finger of God in such a remarkable occurrence, then what blindness might we also be capable of?  As we revel in the Easter gladness, we can pray that God gives us the grace to see and believe, as did those in the temple after Peter explained what had happened. “Many . . . became believers.” 

Don’t get too attached

In the Gospel I’m reflecting on today [John 20:11-18], Mary of Magdala is outside of the tomb where Jesus was.  She is weeping because even though the tomb is empty, her only conclusion at that point is that someone has come and taken His body.  And even though she sees two angels in the tomb who ask her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” she’s still intent on finding Him.

When Jesus does appear, she doesn’t recognize Him until He calls her by name: “Mary!” and then, at least in my imagination, she hangs on to Him for dear life.  And so Jesus says, “Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father, but go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God.’”  And so she goes and announces to the disciples that she has “seen the Lord.”

St. Paul of the Cross, would often counsel those who were receiving spiritual direction from him not to get too attached to the feelings they had when they had a “mountaintop” experience” of God.  He would invite them to focus on the Giver, not the gifts. Their goal was not to capture or recapture good feelings, but to seek God’s will.  I see some of this between Jesus and Mary Magdalene.  Jesus tells Mary not to hold on to Him because there’s something He still needs to do: ascend to the Father so that the Holy Spirit may come.  At the same time, she is not to hold on to Him, because there’s something she needs to do: to tell the other disciples what she has seen and heard.  Mary couldn’t be “the apostle to the apostles” unless she lets go of holding on to Him.

And so, we are not to get too caught up in our feelings that we miss the signs that God sends indicating God’s will for us.  Instead, we continue to seek and do God’s will, always in the hope we have in the Resurrection of Jesus.

Fearful, yet overjoyed…

 

“Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went away quickly from the tomb, fearful yet overjoyed….” [Matthew 28:8]

From the moment we’re born, we’re brought into a world of the unknowns - and fear becomes a part of our lives.  Matthew’s Gospel offers us two very different but very human looks at fear [Matthew 28:8-15].

For Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, it’s a fear of the unexpected and the unknown as they encounter an empty tomb.  Just before this Gospel begins, the women are told by an angel, “Do not be afraid! I know that you are seeking Jesus the crucified.”  They hurry away and their thoughts must been racing as they try to make sense of something incomprehensible.  Jesus' body is gone?  An angel has told them not to be afraid?  What in the world has happened to Jesus?

And then He’s there Himself: Jesus is coming toward them, greeting them and we can imagine their stunned reaction and their joy as they embrace Him.  The first thing He says to them are the words we’ve heard Him speak so many times, “Do not be afraid.”  He’s telling them to trust in Him, to trust in this experience and in this unknown.  Then He gives them the mission to spread the news and let others know that they will encounter Him.  Their fear has been turned to joy by the presence of Jesus in their lives.

The other fear is in the second part of the Gospel: while the Marys are hurrying back to the city, the guards, now wide awake and frightened, tell the chief priests what has happened.  Jesus' body is gone!  The elders and chief priests are also deeply afraid, but their fear is the kind all of us have rooted in the darker parts of our souls.  Their fear is about losing power and control and having the people begin to believe in Jesus, this unlikely King of the Jews.  This kind of fear, so tangled in our insecurities and lack of trust, creates more complexities.  Lies are created, money exchanged.  In case the soldiers fear for their jobs, they’re reassured: “if this gets to the ears of the governor, we will satisfy him and keep you out of trouble.”

We can imagine the very different reactions to fear at the end of this story.  Mary Magdalene running back, filled with joy, bursting with the incredible news for the Apostles: Jesus is alive!  He is risen!  In the face of their disbelief, her story of her encounter with Jesus will tumble out in joy and laughter and is rooted in the truth.

It’s this same kind of knowing we see in the Acts of the Apostles as Peter feels the truth deep in his soul [Acts 2:14-32].  It gives the timid and afraid leader the courage to fearlessly proclaim the story of the resurrection.  Peter stands up and raises his voice loudly to tell the crowd that God raised Jesus up, “releasing him from the throes of death.”

On the other side?  The guards trudge home, puzzled, afraid of what they don't understand, afraid of being caught in this lie.  The chief priests are soured with fears, lies and deceptions.  Who among us can be trusted with the truth?  Will the frightening truth leak out?  Can we all keep our stories straight?  What will we lose if people find out the real story?  They move farther from the truth and the Good News of Jesus' life and resurrection.

"With"

On this Easter day we want to receive the news of Jesus Risen not as an announcement of an event from long ago and far away.  We want to receive this Good News now: “This, today, is the day the Lord has made!” [Psalms 118]

St. Paul comes to our help in his Letter to the Colossians [Colossians 3:1-4].  In a few brief lines, St. Paul uses the word “with” three times, each use building upon the previous one and leading to an increasing depth of meaning and feeling.

“You were raised with Christ.”  No isolated event from long ago and far away—the resurrection of Jesus in our own flesh and given to us in the grace of baptism assures us that resurrection is ours as well.  Mysteriously, we already share in the resurrection.  What might that mean?

“Your life is hidden with Christ in God.”  Not a vague event in the past or simply the promise of life in a distant future—the resurrection of Jesus means that our life is in and with His life now, invisible to all except to those with the eyes of faith.  Nothing can steal that from us.  It’s a “buried treasure” of sorts—life with Him, Jesus sharing life with us, day in and day out.  He is risen and is with us!  Where will this lead?

“You too will appear with him in glory.”  Our future life, the life of resurrection, is no mere survival or continuation of life as it is, just “more of the same.”  No, we’re promised glory— as St. Paul says in his Letter to the Romans, “I consider that the sufferings of this present time are as nothing compared with the glory to be revealed for us.” [Romans 8:18] The First Letter of John describes this glory: “We shall be like him for we shall see him as he is.” [1 John 3:2] And, even more dramatically, the Second Letter of Peter declares that we will share in “the divine nature.” [2 Peter 1:4]

Despite the passage of time, the words we hear from Peter’s speech as recorded in the Acts of the Apostles vibrate with all the joy, the power and the conviction that must have impressed those first hearers.  The message is clear: the Jesus whom we witnessed preaching and healing, whom we saw crucified, we have seen now – alive! [Acts 10:34-43]

That which allows us, these many centuries later, to hear these words again has less to do with a careful recording of mere words, than with the fact that Christians in every generation down to our own have also been witnesses.  They’re the ones who “believe without seeing,” [John 20:29] but they don’t simply repeat the words of others.  The vitality of Christian witness is based on encounters with the risen Jesus that have made the proclamation of this day ever fresh:  He is risen!

Pope Francis, in writing about the call to a New Evangelization, cited Pope Benedict XVI when he wrote:  “Being a Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction.” 

This life-changing encounter with the risen Lord ought not to be thought of as the privilege of the few, but an invitation to all.  But can I dare to hope for such an encounter?  How can this be my experience and not simply that of others?  Pope Francis extends to us a challenging invitation:  “I invite all Christians, everywhere, at this very moment, to a renewed personal encounter with Jesus Christ, or at least an openness to letting him encounter them; I ask all of you to do this unfailingly each day.  No one should think that this invitation is not meant for him or her since no one is excluded from the joy brought by the Lord.”

On this Easter Day, let’s be bold in asking for this renewed encounter.  Let’s desire to join with the many who have not seen, but have believed, because they have encountered Him.  Let’s be witnesses!

With encouragement from St. Paul, I ask for this Easter grace:  Jesus, give me the grace, stir my heart, to know and feel more profoundly that You are with me and I with You today, tomorrow and eternally! 

The dawning of a new day

 

In the Catholic Church, there are two “Midnight Masses”; one beginning on Christmas Eve, and the other beginning on the evening of Holy Saturday for Easter.  Of the two, the Easter Vigil is my favorite.  While the Christmas message is indeed joyful, for me the Easter message is more glorious.  The Holy Saturday Vigil liturgy brings so much life into the Church!  And it’s the message we need to hear after a sometimes-grueling Lent.

The Easter Vigil begins with darkness.  The darkness itself is the first movement of the liturgy, so we begin our preparations with that darkness.  It represents all darkness, and all the meanings of darkness - devoid of light; evil thoughts, motivations, deeds; all that is hidden and secret, deceitful and dishonest, divisive and abusive, immoral and sinful.  It's the darkness of our world, and the darkness in my heart.  If I come to the vigil and restlessly and impatiently fidget in the dark "until something happens," I miss the power of what is about to happen.  So, we prepare by readying ourselves to experience the darkness.  It’s distasteful and reprehensible, embarrassing and humbling, fearful and despairing.

Then a single candle is lit, breaking into the darkness. 

The candle lit from the new fire is then processed into the community, and we receive its light and experience the power of that light as it grows.  When the candle is brought front and center, we celebrate the Easter Proclamation.  This prayer sounds like a Eucharistic Prayer.  We give thanks and praise over this symbol of the Light of Christ in our midst and "consecrate" it as Christ's presence among us.  Reading this proclamation carefully and letting its joyful song into our hearts is a wonderful way to prepare to feel its exultant praise at the Vigil.

There are seven Scripture readings from the Old Testament that have been prepared to help us with our night's vigil [Genesis 1:1-2:2, Genesis 22:1-18, Exodus 14:15-15:1, Isaiah 54:5-14, Isaiah 55:1-11, Baruch 3:9-32;4:4, and Ezekiel 36:16-28].  Each reading is followed by an invitation to pray in silence, which is followed by a special prayer designed for that reading.

After the last reading from the Old Testament, the candles are lit and the bells ring as we sing our Glory to God.  Then we’re ready to hear the New Testament word in the light of Christ, and the good news, "He has been raised!" [Luke 24:6].  At this point in the liturgy, we’re prepared to be exultant with joy at the resurrection of Jesus - the victory of our God over sin and death - for us [Romans 6:3-11].

 The Gospel that’s read during this liturgy is filled with some wonderful and symbolic moments for us to savor [Luke 24:1-12].

The arrival of the three women at Jesus’ tomb is symbolic and real at the same time.  Across many societies women are often seen as midwives in that they’re present to assist their sisters in labor and eventual birth of a new child.  In another sense they’re often found accompanying the dying in the last moments of a life.

In many societies, and particularly traditional ones, women often accompany life at its beginning and at its end.  This is a pattern present in the gospel account of the life of Jesus too.

In this Gospel, we see Mary, Salome and Mary Magdalene approaching the tomb of Jesus with but one intention – to carry out the rituals associated with the burial of a body (its final washing, anointing, and dressing).  However, in God’s vision they become heralds of a new reality – a new birth for the world – and those who had arrived expecting to deal with death in its finality, leave as heralds of the birth of new life.

The dawning of a new day, and the arrival of the sun’s light into the day, parallels the dawning of new life for Jesus and for the world.  Further, the resurrection of Jesus echoes the first words of God in the creation narrative “Let there be light” [Genesis 1:1-5].  God’s first creative act is magnified and brought to completion in the raising of Jesus so that He might enlighten the world.

Other symbols we might take aside for our own prayer and reflection today are the stone and the angel’s words.

The stone might just represent all those obstacles and barriers that are either placed in our path or which we roll into place.  The stone can represent all that might seem to separate us from the love of God or block our reception of that love as it flows into our life.  Here, as in our own days, God ‘rolls’ such stones away and ensures that any similar barriers hold no power over us nor are they able to prevent God’s love being made available to us.

The words of the angel might serve to remind us that we too are sent out as emissaries of Jesus – we are to announce His presence not merely in Galilee but in our everyday lives.  He is to be found in our homes and our relationships and made visible in the life we lead.  Our values, our attitudes and ultimately our actions will reveal His presence again and again.  The world need not look amongst the dead or see Jesus merely as an historical character.  Through our witness He’s able to be seen alive and present in our world today.

May Easter Light shine on us, illuminate our way forward and guide our proclamation and witness.

The 'goodness' of this Friday

Much has been said about what is ‘good’ about Good Friday.  I believe we each can personalize the ‘good’ for what it means to us.  For me the ‘goodness’ of this day is to be able to reflect on Jesus’ compassion in His passion in a deeper way than I usually do when meditating on the Sorrowful Mysteries of the Rosary.

We can begin with His agony in the garden; “My soul is sorrowful even to death.” [Matthew 26:38, Mark 14:34, Luke 22:44].  Despite His sorrow and distress, He was very patient with Peter, James, and John, whom He had asked to pray with Him, but they couldn’t stay awake.  I feel this same patience from Christ when I, too, fall asleep (or let my mind wander) when in prayer.

Jesus also showed compassion for Judas.  Jesus addressed him as “friend” even as Judas kissed Him and turned Him over to the authorities [Matthew 26:50].  Luke even records that Jesus’ compassion extended to healing the ear of a person (Malchus) that a disciple (Peter) cut off with a sword [Luke 22:51].  This particular episode is related in all four Gospels, but only the Gospel of John identifies both the servant and the disciple [John 18:10-11].

Then after enduring an all-night kangaroo court, whipping, mockery and abuse, Jesus was led out to be crucified.  In spite of His suffering, He continued to offer compassion.  He comforted His Mother with a gentle look.  He knew she suffered fully in His pain. Jesus must have smiled at Simon of Cyrene as he took the weight of the cross off of Him [Matthew 27:32, Mark 15:21, Luke 23:26].  What a gracious gift He gave to Veronica, who was courageous enough to maneuver around the centurions to wipe Jesus’ bloody face.  He actually stopped and spoke to the women of Jerusalem [Mark 15:41, Luke 23:27-30].  I wonder if the centurions thought they were losing control at this time.  Maybe, in reality, they were never in control.

Even while He was suffocating on the cross, He endured the surging pain to lift Himself enough to speak forgiveness and care for others. “Forgive them Father they know not what they do.” [Luke 23:34]. “Today you will be with me in Paradise.” [Luke 23:43]. “Woman, behold, your son. Behold, your mother.” [John 19:26-27].

Are we compassionate when we’re tired, hungry or thirsty?  Do we have patience for those who don’t understand?  Do we forgive our betrayers immediately?  Do we forgive those who mock us and abuse us?  Do we forgive those who slander us or kill our reputation?  Do we appreciate large and small favors, gifts and help from others as Jesus acknowledged Simon and Veronica?  Do we give comfort to others in distress?  Can we accompany others who are suffering?  Are we present to their grieving or their dying?

Lord, help us to be compassionate as You are compassionate.  Even in Your ultimate sacrifice of giving Your life for our sake, You showed us that mercy to others is still what God requires. 

A model to follow

 

With Jesus, so often the most important part of His messages and of His actions are simple.  Simple in the best meaning of the word, a simplicity that resonates in my mind and in my heart and I hope in my actions. 

In Exodus, we read of the power of God and the call for sacrifice.  We have to prepare, and we must be ready with our sandals on our feet and our staffs in our hands [Exodus 12:1-14].  We must strive to be ready spiritually as well.  In John’s Gospel and in Saint Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, Jesus tries to help His apostles be ready for what is to come [John 13:1-15, 1 Corinthians 11:23-26].  In this most human of His moments, you can tell His love and concern for these men.  Like any teacher, He wants to make sure He's done enough, taught them enough.

When Jesus washes the feet of the apostles, it humbles me.  The act of kneeling in front of someone to wash that person’s feet is the very core of the idea of servant.  Peter at first resists, but when Jesus tells him he will understand later, Peter’s faith and trust are so great that he asks for Jesus to wash his hands and head as well.  We also need that faith and trust to be as a servant to others, to treat all others with respect and dignity.  The message is a simple one, beautiful in its simplicity.  I pray that I can strive to live that message in a world that often seems complicated and chaotic.  Let me do my part to be a servant to others.

A Holy Thursday prayer:

"If I, therefore, the master and teacher, have washed your feet,

   you ought to wash one another's feet.

  I have given you a model to follow..."    [John 13:14-15]

 

Let me listen with my heart to these words of Jesus.

Let me learn this model in my blood, flesh, bones.

 

Help me, Lord, to shed all pretense in service and love.

 

When confronted with an opportunity to love, serve,

Forgive, soothe, share myself,

And I hesitate and think, "This is beneath me,"

Show me the loving face of Jesus and make me remember

 

This man will die for me.

 

Let me remember that the washing of feet, this

Intimate, gentle touch

That I resist

Might be the only way for me to embrace His dying.

 

Let me remember that when all is passed away

The only things left will be the marks, the models, of my service and love.

 

In the darkness and death, let me remember:

"You ought to wash one another's feet.

  I have given you a model to follow."

The cycle of life

 

Endings and beginnings.  It’s the cycle of life.  I never do very well with endings and beginnings.  I’m pretty resistant to change and endings and beginnings always mean change.  And yet Lent is a season where we anticipate the greatest of all endings and beginnings.  A time that’s supposed to be life changing.  The death and resurrection of Christ.

Studying scripture can be frustrating.  For instance, take the Gospel I reflected on today [Matthew 26:14-25].  It’s like someone walked into the Upper Room and took a snapshot of Jesus and the disciples.  From this snapshot we must try to discern motives, desires, feelings, plans.  And I’ve often wondered about Judas.  Could he have repented?  Could he have changed his mind?  Was he simply greedy?  Was he trying to force Jesus’ divine hand?  Was Judas’ betrayal part of the atonement plan and essential to Christ’s death and resurrection?  I don’t know.  I do know that even if we love Christ, we can still make mistakes and do horrible things.  I think of Peter.  Peter loved Jesus and yet denied Him three times.  So, why does one man become the leader of the early church and one hangs himself in despair?  Perhaps it has to do with repentance and acceptance of God’s love and forgiveness.  Perhaps it’s recognizing that, in an ending, there is always the opportunity for a beginning.

There are times all of us betray Jesus.  We don't have lives that are as honest as we want.  We gossip and spread stories, stories that “won't really hurt anyone.”  We spend too many minutes in church evaluating the dress or beliefs of others.  We refuse to forgive those who have wronged us, and we carry our un-forgiving anger like a badge of honor.  We speak to our spouses and family members sharply and without the extra love and care that their role in our lives deserves.

Judas' worst decision was believing he could not be forgiven.  All of us are forgiven, always. Jesus loves us with our full range of sins.  We forget because we focus on ourselves and our sins, rather than on Jesus.  We can get wrapped up in our own guilt and our own sense of the importance of our sins.  We become blind to Jesus kneeling next to us, washing our feet and loving us from the deepest part of his heart.

Lent is a mixed season for me.  It contains both sadness (an ending) and joy (a beginning).  Sadness at the story of Jesus’ betrayal.  Sadness knowing that Jesus is headed to the cross.  Sadness that Christ’s life will end.  But there’s also comfort, hope and joy.  Joy that Christ loves me enough to lay his life down for me.  Comfort in knowing that, if I repent, Christ can forgive my sins.  Joy in the knowledge of the resurrection.  My prayer is that everyone’s Lenten season would be meaningful and contain some sadness and joy.