It's hard work!

 

My reflection today was on the gospel reading immediately following the miracle of Jesus walking on the water (John 6:16-21).  The crowds who had just witnessed the miracle of the multiplication of loaves and fishes (John 6:1-15) were not privy to this other miracle.  So they wondered at how Jesus got to the other side when they didn’t see Him get into the boat with the disciples (John 6:22-29).  One would think that seeking Jesus is something to be praised and desired.  Yet, Jesus Himself chastised the crowds who sought Him out, because they had a wrong idea of who He is.  Their focus was on the earthly and temporal whereas Jesus was inviting them to move their attention to the heavenly and eternal.  

He told them to work for food that does not perish, but for food that endures for eternal life.  Some began to believe.  They asked, “What can we do to accomplish the works of God?”  They recognized that this effort to work for food that endures for eternal life is a work of God.  These people were quite familiar with the Book of Genesis, and the “work of God” in the seven days of creation, and then resting after the seventh day.  Working for God would not be an easy calling!

So, why do we go looking for Jesus?  Are we after the bread of daily life, the cures of our many personal illnesses or those of our dear family members and friends?  Are we looking for Jesus because we want to live a comfortable life with no personal or familial sufferings or challenges?  Or are we looking for Jesus so that we can accomplish the works of God?  Jesus Himself tells us what the most important work of God is: “that you believe in the one he sent.” (John 6:29)

Believing that Jesus is the Son of God is hard work!  Believing in the teaching of Jesus is hard work!  Following Jesus to the Cross is hard work!  Living the life of the Resurrected Jesus is hard work!  But because it’s a work of God, it’s not all up to us.

As I reflected on the gospel, I asked myself whether I focus on what is temporary, fleeting, superficial, or on what is eternal, lasting, deep.  Is my relationship with Jesus merely one where I seek Him to perform miracles?  Or is it one where I absolutely believe who Jesus is, the one sent by God?  And does this believing translate itself into action where I become the presence of Jesus in the world today?  During these pandemic times, there is undoubtedly a temptation to seek Jesus the miracle worker.  But as we celebrate this Easter season, we are called to embrace Jesus, the real Bread of Life and to be committed as disciples to the vision of life He proposes.  A vision of life that calls us to move away from self-interest towards fashioning a kingdom where the least among us are cared for and respected. 

Jesus himself has fed us with the Bread of Heaven.  He strengthens us with his Word.  He accompanies us in our journey.  He intervenes when we try to walk away.  We’re not alone.  What echoes in our minds and hearts is Jesus’ last words to us, “And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.” (Mathew 28:20)

The call to repentance

 

Luke’s Gospel recounts the appearance of Jesus to the disciples in the Upper Room in Jerusalem.  The two disciples who had encountered Jesus on the Road to Emmaus had rushed back to Jerusalem to share incredible news. They had seen the Lord and recognized Him in the breaking of the bread.  The faithful, gathered in the privacy of the Upper Room, were now putting all the pieces together-sharing other eyewitness stories of the resurrection of Jesus (Luke24:35-48).

Then, without warning, their mood shifted from joy to fear.  To their great surprise, the Lord appeared in their midst and proclaimed, "Peace be with you."  Jesus, observing that they were distressed, asked "Why are you troubled?"   Jesus then showed them His hands and feet.  And, to further demonstrate that He was no ghost, He asked for something to eat.  Fish was what was available on the table, which He ate “to the full”.  Now the disciples knew that this was no ghost!

Once again, just as Jesus had done while walking with the disciples on the Road to Emmaus, He pointed the gathered back to the Scriptures which foretold His death and resurrection—and the revelation that "repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem."

We can relate this teaching in the Upper Room to the account in the Acts of the Apostles, and Peter fulfilling Jesus’ call to preach repentance–beginning in Jerusalem (Acts 3:13-19).  Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter preached with vim and vigor the message of the Risen Lord and the need for repentance.  Peter could relate to this need for repentance from his own personal experience.

He knew what despair and emptiness comes from denying Christ.  Clearly, to be a good preacher of repentance and a life in Jesus Christ, we must be willing to repent our own sinfulness.

In this Easter Season, let’s focus on our ongoing conversion and renewal in faith—that we too may join in active discipleship and preach in action and words our belief in the power of Jesus Christ.  To strengthen our faith and knowledge, we must take time to break open the Word and recognize Jesus in "the breaking of the bread."   We need to do all of this in community, just as the disciples did while gathered in their Upper Room. 

Like the disciples, we too may experience times of fear or confusion.  Nevertheless, if we remain faithful to our call, we can and will experience the power of the Risen Christ in our lives.

Hope amidst the storms

 

In my reflections today, I can’t help but to make a comparison of the last 14 months of Covid-19, social unrest, and uncertainty to the story of the disciples in a storm on the Sea of Galilee (John 6:16-21).  The story is one each of us should eagerly take to heart because it’s about finding hope amidst unforeseen storms.  In this account, the disciples are about to embark on a simple evening sail across the lake to Capernaum.  Nothing seems amiss, nothing ominous appears on the horizon.  Indeed, because they have likely taken this journey many times before, when they set out on what seem to be untroubled waters, there’s no reason for them to expect anything other than smooth sailing.  But suddenly, and quite unpredictably, everything changes.  As if out of nowhere, strong winds and rough waters leave them fearing for their lives, utterly at the mercy of forces they are powerless to control.

Is it any different for us?  This gospel story is a fitting metaphor for our lives because there are moments for all of us when everything—like the waters of the lake that evening—seems calm, tranquil, and promising.  But then, through no fault of our own, we sail into unforeseen storms and find ourselves buffeted by unexpected misfortune, tossed about by overwhelming adversity or nearly pulled under in oceans of loss and desolate grief.  Too, like the disciples that unforgettable evening, we can feel that Jesus is nowhere in sight when we need Him most, leaving us to navigate the rough seas of our lives all on our own. 

But that’s never true.  In this gospel story, Jesus doesn’t quiet the storm or calm the waters; rather, He’s walking right beside the disciples as they make their way through the storm, even though they don’t see him right away.  Similarly, we may not be able to escape the storms of suffering, hardship, calamity, and loss, but we never navigate them alone.  We can always find hope amidst unforeseen storms because Jesus says to us exactly what He said to those disciples that night: “It is I; do not be afraid.”

Every day is a good day for miracles

Reflecting on the Acts of the Apostles, I’m challenged by the image of the Apostles being flogged after leaving the Sanhedrin and then actually "rejoicing" to be found worthy to suffer in Jesus' name: After recalling the Apostles, they had them flogged, ordered them to stop speaking in the name of Jesus, and dismissed them. So they left the presence of the Sanhedrin, rejoicing that they had been found worthy to suffer dishonor for the sake of the name. (Acts 5:34-42)

I have to ask myself, "How often, when I suffer, do I grumble?"  Filled with the Holy Spirit, the apostles had a profound unity with Jesus, which I’d love to have.  Imagine how powerful a grace it would be to have such an intimacy with Jesus that we would even experience that intimacy in suffering.  Graces to which we are attracted are worth asking for.

“This is truly the Prophet, the one who is to come into the world.” (John 6:1-15).  This was the reaction of many to Jesus, as He turned five loaves and two fish into a feast for thousands.  We spend our lives waiting to see miracles of this magnitude performed; to see firsthand the power of God. 

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.  If I look at my own life, I’m continually amazed at the power of God, and I should count every blessing a miracle.  Finding my wife, the perfect match for me for the last 47 years—miracle; having children and grandchildren who continually remind me of the graces God has blessed me with—miracle; freely able to worship and praise God without fear of reprisal—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 would see that we’re loved by a Creator who wants to bless us daily.

When we’re on the receiving end of a miracle, what is 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, whatever that may be.  And when it comes, I know how I want to react.  Every day is a good day for a miracle. 

God is trustworthy

 

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 to the Holy Spirit.  Yeah, I’d like to, but I'm not like that much.

Instead, I’m more impatient, tapping my feet and drumming my fingers at lines, waiting, traffic, frustrating situations, etc.  Sometimes though, 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.

I think the Scriptures I reflected on today are a good example of some of the graces that come with the Holy Spirit.  In the Acts of the Apostles, we see the formerly cowardly Peter, now peacefully standing in court calmly saying, “We must obey God rather than men.”  After recounting what those court officers had done to Jesus, Peter adds, “We are witnesses of these things, as is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.”  He feels the peace and calm of the Holy Spirit and recognizes it, much to the fury of the court officials (Acts 5:27-33).

The Gospel of John notes that the gifts of the Spirit are not rationed.  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 (John 3:31-36).

And the opposites 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.

Also in John’s Gospel, we hear this nugget: “God is trustworthy.”

How shocking Peter’s statement to the high priest must have been.  The members of the Sanhedrin undoubtedly believed they spoke for God, so it brought them up short to be reminded that there’s a power higher than theirs.

Given time and reflection, it’s usually clear what God’s will is in any situation.  Peter had no doubt what the right thing to do was: keep preaching in the name of Jesus.

His assurance was due in part to the fact that God is indeed trustworthy.  We can trust that if we believe firmly, after reflecting and praying, that we’re acting according to God’s guidance, then we’re acting justly.  If new information comes to light or things don’t turn out as planned, we can still be assured that God is pleased with our attempts to do the right thing and will show us the way forward once again.

The cry of the poor

 

"I sought the Lord and He answered me and delivered me from all my fears." (Psalm 34: 5)

When I retired a couple of years ago, I began a journey to deepen my interior life, to come closer to the Lord.  To deepen my relationship with Him.  My journey has been one of increased prayers and reflections that I look forward to sharing each day on my blog.  This journey has become one of coming to know the Lord and His love, but also of knowing myself.  And letting the Lord know me.  Not the varnished version I often might present, even to God.  But of the real me He created and knows.  I’ve come to know, or I’ve been shown, my poverty, my need.  

Psalm 34 reminds us that “The Lord hears the cry of the poor” (v 7).  My reaction over the years when I heard the verse about the Lord hearing and answering the cry of “poor” among us was to immediately think of the poor in Africa, Calcutta or even the chronically poor here in the USA. 

I may have always thought of myself as a “good” Catholic, but on my current journey, even at 67 years old, I’ve been led to know myself in a deeper and truer way, seeing my poverty, my need for healing, my need for a Savior.  It’s not the physical poverty I had always thought of when I heard the refrain from the Psalm, but I truly have come to see myself as one of the Lord’s poor.  I believe it’s from that humble place, that we’re better able to be open to live the Lord’s truth and come into the light that we hear about in John’s Gospel, allowing The Lord to heal our poverty and draw us into new life with Him.  

Do we ever think of ourselves as poor?  As being in need?  Or are we ok, just need a little help now and then?  We’ll ask for it if we need it.  A temporary lifeline.  Do we ever consider our own poverty?  Our need for a Savior?  God has seen mankind’s need throughout history, and in John’s Gospel we’re shown His response:  Out of His love, He sent His only Son that we might be saved, that we might have life, eternal life (John 3:16-21).

Clothing each other in majesty and dignity

 

The LORD is king, robed with majesty; the LORD is robed, girded with might. (Psalm 93:1)

I don’t know why this line in the Psalms caught my notice today, but it seems to me that in Scripture, when someone is clothed or robed, it’s with “majesty” or “dignity.”  Jesus taught us to clothe the naked (Matthew 25:36), so how do we “clothe someone with dignity?”

For a lot of us, after walking into a gathering our mind starts summing up everyone and placing labels on them: “He’s awfully tall, she’s too thin, that one looks nervous, they’re too loud, she’s not participating in the right way, he should know better.”  On and on our minds categorize people and put them in boxes: “safe,” “scary,” “good,” “bad,” “left,” “right,” “radical,” “conservative,” “looney,” “my candidate,” and—in my opinion—the worst label, “Karen”.  What are we doing when this is going on?  We’re ‘clothing’ them.  We’re draping our judgements around their shoulders so that we don’t need to deal with who they really are.  The problem is that we believe those judgements to be real and let them drive the way we deal with others when we interact. Judging each other and putting labels on them was not the clothing Jesus commanded us to clothe each other with.

So, how should we clothe each other?  I think that it means to hold everyone we meet, in the truest sense of the words, as a beloved child of God, a person of sacred worth and value.  If we can move beyond our mind’s chatter to be fully present to someone as they are, a beloved child of God, we’re clothing them with dignity.  Jesus asks us to do this with not only with our family and friends, but with those who despise us.  We’re to do this for those whom we may wish to despise.  We need to do this with the young, with the old, with the infirm, with the healthy, with the Jew, with the Samaritan, with those who love us, with those who revile us.  Sometimes we need to do this in spite of their not believing it themselves.  Some of us have been so beaten down, suffered so many trials and disasters, that we no longer believe themselves to be children of God.  And yet that’s a cornerstone of the teachings of Jesus.  This is, for each and every one of us, our birthright.

My prayer for today is that we all make the effort to clothe everyone we meet in the robe of majesty they deserve as a child of God.

A spark of faith

 

Nicodemus, a Pharisee and a ruler of the Jews, is mentioned three times in the Gospel of John.  The first time he’s mentioned is John 3:1-2: There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews. He came to Jesus at night and said to him, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God, for no one can do these signs that you are doing unless God is with him.”  The second time is when he reminds the Sanhedrin that Jesus should be heard by them before they condemn Him (John 7:43-53), and the third time is when Nicodemus assists with Jesus’ burial after His death (John 19:38-42).  John’s Gospel is very symbolic.  He especially uses the images of light and dark.  For example, when Judas went out to betray Jesus, John’s Gospel notes that “it was night.” (John 18:3).  In the passage above, John’s Gospel notes that Nicodemus came to Jesus “at night.”

Saint Augustine, in one of his reflections, says that Nicodemus came to Jesus “at night” because Nicodemus was not yet fully born again and, therefore, was not yet living fully in the light of faith.  But the fact that Nicodemus does come to Jesus and questions Him at length shows that he had a spark of faith and that he wanted to deepen that faith.  He clearly hoped that Jesus was the Messiah and professed that Jesus was “a teacher who has come from God.” (John 7)

Nicodemus has been given the title of “saint” within the Catholic Church and is especially venerated because he stood up against the other religious leaders at the time to defend Jesus and show support for Him.  This took courage.  He was ridiculed and risked being shunned by the others.  But Nicodemus knew there was something special about Jesus, and he persevered in following that inspiration.

In many ways, Nicodemus is a great example for us today in our modern world.  More and more, in most secular world cultures, being a follower of Jesus is looked down upon.  This is especially true if one chooses to live one’s faith openly and believe all that the Gospels teach.  Many Christians find that living their faith openly, especially within the workplace, school environments, and other civic circles, is challenging.  And like Nicodemus, many find it easier to come to Jesus “at night,” meaning, in a hidden way.  And though Nicodemus started this way, he eventually spoke openly in defense of Jesus in the presence of his fellow Pharisees who, according to some traditions, persecuted him and drove him into exile.

Nicodemus allowed the spark of faith within him to grow as He listened to Jesus, struggled with the pressure from his peers, but ultimately openly professed his faith in Christ.  And though this hurt his worldly position of honor within the Sanhedrin and among the earthly rulers, it earned Nicodemus an eternal honor in Heaven.  What courage he must have had to go against the pressure of his peers by allowing the faith he found in Christ to grow and fill his life with the light of Truth!  We should all strive to imitate this good man and allow ourselves to be inspired by his courage so that we, too, will receive the same eternal glory he now enjoys in Heaven.

We're in a threshold time

 

“On one occasion, I heard these words: ‘My daughter, tell the whole world about My Inconceivable mercy.  I desire that the Feast of Mercy be a refuge and shelter for all souls, and especially for poor sinners.  On that day the very depths of My tender mercy are open.  I pour out a whole ocean of graces upon those souls who approach the fount of My mercy.  The soul that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion shall obtain complete forgiveness of sins and punishment.  On that day all the divine floodgates through which grace flow are opened.’” (The Diary of St. Faustina).

It was Jesus Himself, through the mediation of a humble and holy religious sister, Sister Maria Faustina Kowalska of the Blessed Sacrament, Who instituted the Feast of Mercy that we celebrate today.  Jesus spoke to her on numerous occasions about His desire that this feast be instituted as a universal Feast of Mercy to be celebrated throughout the world on the eighth day of Easter every year.

From the time of her death in 1938, the private revelations from Jesus to Sister Faustina began to be read and shared.  At first, the Feast of Mercy was celebrated by only a few who knew of these messages.  As these private revelations began to circulate further, there were some within the Church who questioned their authenticity.  On March 6, 1959, the writings of Sister Faustina were put on the “forbidden” list by the “Holy Office” in Rome.  However, in 1965, with the permission of the same Holy Office, the Archbishop of Kraków, Poland, Archbishop Karol Wojtyła, began an informative process in which new light was shed upon Sister Faustina and her writings.  This process concluded on April 15, 1978, with the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Rome, issuing a new decree permitting the spread of Sister Faustina’s writings and the new devotion to The Divine Mercy.  Then, by the providence of God, just six months later, the Archbishop of Kraków, Karol Wojtyła, was elected pope, taking the name Pope John Paul II.  A little over two decades later, on April 30, 2000, Sister Faustina was canonized a saint in a ceremony presided over by Pope John Paul II.  During her canonization, the Holy Father also instituted the Feast of Mercy for the universal Church to be celebrated on the eighth day of the Octave of Easter every year.

The providence of God is always amazing to me.  God started with this humble cloistered nun.  He allowed His private revelations to be scrutinized by the Church and ultimately hand-picked one of the greatest popes our Church has ever known to introduce these private revelations to the world.  It’s amazing to ponder the process by which these revelations went from the silent cloister of Sister Faustina to the universal Church.  One thing this process truly tells us is that God must deeply desire that we immerse ourselves in the messages of Divine Mercy given through Saint Faustina.  It was by God’s providence that these messages slowly moved from the silence of the cloister in Kraków, Poland, to the universal Church beginning in the year 2000.  Though it may be tempting to think that these messages are old and outdated, we should realize that God knew how long it would take for them to become instituted as a universal feast for all.  Therefore, though these messages were first revealed before 1938, it was God’s plan that they would especially be needed and read starting in the year 2000 and beyond. It leads me to believe that the message of Divine Mercy is especially for us today.

In John’s Gospel (John 20:19-31), Jesus says to “doubting” Thomas, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”  Yet, it was Jesus’ multiple greetings of “Peace be with you” that stood out to me. 

In this year of pandemic, loss, and uncertainty around the world, and racial hate and unrest, incivility, and political vitriol throughout the United States, faith in many of our institutions and leaders has been shaken or lost.

This Easter season invites us to bear witness to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus and to receive His Divine Mercy during this threshold time.  As we bear witness in our own way, may Jesus’ peace be with us. 

God sees the heart

 

Being a “simple, uneducated man” (relative to a lot of my peers), my meditation on this first Saturday of Easter led me to some simple questions:  In my life, who do I discount or shut out?  Can I hear wisdom and answers from God when they’re given by someone of another faith tradition?  Am I open to insight from a member of another culture or race?  What about when the messenger is half my age?  

The Sanhedrin wouldn’t believe Peter and John’s testimony of Jesus as the Resurrected Christ or the miracles they performed because they knew them as “simple, uneducated men” (Acts 4:13-21).  Earlier in the Scriptures, when God sent Samuel to anoint one of Jesse’s sons as king, Jesse didn’t initially even present David, because surely God chose one of the seven older brothers rather than a young sheepherder (1Samuel 16:1-13).  Later, Jesus’ apostles and companions refused to believe either Mary Magdalene, who saw Jesus after He rose (Luke 24:1-12), or the two disciples who encountered Jesus on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35), as those witnesses didn’t sufficiently fit their criteria for reliability. When Jesus finally appeared to the disciples, dispelling their doubt, He rebuked them for their refusal (Mark 16:9-15). 

Knowing what we know on this side of the story, it’s easy for me to rebuke all of these people, too, and convince myself I would have believed if I’d been there.  After all, I’ve been taught that God has a habit of speaking in unexpected ways and through unsuspecting sources.  But would I? How often do I discount a message because I don’t accept the messenger? How often do I shut out other voices because I believe I know more, or they don’t know enough?

These days, entire classes of people are labeled as ignorant, evil, misguided, or simply wrong, rendering us incapable of hearing genuine wisdom from a member of that group.  Young adults in our Church constantly experience their perspective being discounted or unheard in favor of the “seasoned veterans” who, of course, are smarter and wiser.  Women often perceive that, just as in biblical times, their words carry less weight than a man’s.  Surely, too, people living in poverty have little to teach those who’ve achieved success.  We see it everywhere we look.  Are we so blind?

We need to remember the scriptural message: “Not as humans see does God see, because humans see the appearance, but the Lord looks into the heart.” (1Samuel 16:7)

Growing in faith and trust

 

There’s no substitute for time and experience in learning and growing in a relationship of trust.

The Acts of the Apostles shows the apostles living in tension with the culture around them (Acts 4:1-12).  This tension didn’t get them down; they had a remarkable confidence.  The leaders “laid hands on Peter and John and put them in custody”.   That’s not the kind of religious experience we want, to be sure!  The healing of the crippled man in Jesus’ name surely encouraged them, but this miracle was only one part of a long chain of events that caused their confidence to grow (Acts 3:1-10).  They used Jesus’ words from a previous encounter with the religious leaders (Matthew 23 and Mark 12) to challenge their captors.  Though these words were enigmatic when Jesus first said them, the apostles repeated them with new confidence.  Some things had happened.  Their understanding and faith had grown.

I love the friendship and humanity lurking in a passage from John’s Gospel, as well (John 21:1-14).  I imagine Peter hanging out with his friends near the sea when he stands up and announces, “I’m going fishing.”  When guys are hanging out together and one announces that he’s going to do something, the others often go along because of the friendship, not because they want to do the same thing, too.  They probably went along, thinking, “OK, if it’ll make you happy.”  And then they fished all night without a nibble.  Perhaps their quiet conversations included, “Way to go, Peter!  Sure glad we didn’t waste our time sleeping!”

Calling out from the shore, Jesus tells them something that probably seemed silly: “Cast the net over the right side of the boat.”  Perhaps they laughed and teased Him over the suggestion, but they apparently overcame their skepticism.  The catch surprised them all.  John figured out the puzzle first:  this was Jesus.  Peter agreed and jumped into the water.

Jesus said to His friends, “Come, have breakfast.”  He had already been cooking fish and bread for them.  I wonder if they didn’t remember when Jesus told them to take fish and bread from a boy to feed thousands.  But this time, the meal was just for them.  Jesus told them to bring some more fish.  These fishermen would become fishers of men, as Jesus had also told them.  In the Acts reading, more than 5000 came to believe in Jesus because of their faithful testimony.   I’m thinking that maybe they recognized the connection!

Signs and signals often accompany us on our journey.  Sometimes I shake my head over signs I rejected, misinterpreted, or just plain overlooked.  Having lost my father before I reached adulthood, I think often upon the signs of love and guidance he sent me through his life.  Sometimes I didn’t get them at the time, but they meant more to me later on, when I had lived a little more and perhaps had grown a little more receptive.   We would each do well to pause and be open to signs that may not be obvious, but which are showing us a path of love to take or of danger to avoid.   And may the Lord give us epiphanies from time to time, which help us grow in faith.   And may we truly know in this season that our risen Lord is truly with us, and He is our friend, indeed.  Thanks be to God.

Peace be with you!

 

The vaccines for the Covid-19 virus have given us peace and hope that there is a way to live through this pandemic.  We just have to have faith and believe.  No one knows for sure how this pandemic is going to turn out but there is a glimmer of peace and hope with the vaccines that are out now.  There are some who don’t believe in the vaccines at all. Some who refuse to believe no matter what they see or here.  There’s no reason to live if there’s no hope.  There’s no reason to do right if there’s no hope.  Our work is in vain if there’s no hope.  The vaccine is our only hope, just like Jesus is our only hope to salvation and glory, to overcome this deadly virus.  We just have to believe, trust, and have faith.

It is Jesus’ unique prerogative to invade “startled,” “terrified,” and “troubled” hearts and to bring them His eternal peace.  The disciples in Luke’s Gospel were perplexed: “the author of life” was put to death, and His body was missing, reported to be mysteriously risen from the dead.  Jesus stood in their midst, revealing His “flesh and bones,” His “hands and his feet,” even asking for something to eat (Luke 24:35-48).  This was no ghost; it had been prophesied from of old, since the days of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, since Moses, Samuel, and all who follow suit.  Our ancestors yearned to see this day.  Blessed are we who are “witnesses of these things,” who have been given “minds to understand the Scriptures” and mouths to “preach in his name to all the nations.” (Acts 3:11-26)

These are the words that our savior gives us through Scriptures, for those who believe and have faith in Him.  Peace be with you.  Peace to the one who has faith, hope, trust and believe in what he has done for all mankind.  Faith that He is the Son of God.  Faith that He has defeated death.  Faith that all our sins are forgiven if we just believe. Faith that the Holy Spirit will be here to guide us until He comes again. Faith that all we must do is repent, be baptized and believe in His every word.  Peace be with you!

Lord, stay with us!

 

Who were the two travelers on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:13-35)– Cleopas and that other unidentified person?  Were they friends, or brothers, or husband and wife?  We don’t know.  I like to think the reason one of them remains unnamed is to allow us to insert our own name into the story.  It was Cleopas and Steve, or Cleopas and Bob, or Cleopas and you on the road to Emmaus.  And why not?  They were just like us.  They had the same concerns we do – in the midst of everyday life, keeping body and soul together, keeping out of trouble, trying but failing to stay strong in the face of shattered hopes and broken dreams.

Bible scholars tell us that this episode, this theological masterpiece, with its liturgical language – “He took; He broke; He gave”– is a description of the Eucharist.  It’s in the Liturgy of the Word that the hearts of the two travelers were set on fire with understanding of Jesus; that in the breaking of the bread, they saw Jesus; that having been fed on the Word and the Bread they were sent on mission to proclaim the Good News of the Lord’s resurrection.  This, in a nutshell, describes the Mass.

And yet, perhaps the Good News embraces another, more commonplace, truth.  The truth is that, like the two travelers, we often walk in the wrong direction.  We walk away from Jerusalem, away from Calvary.  We walk in the direction of Emmaus, wherever that mysterious city may be, seven miles distant and straight into darkness.  We’re deliberately going the wrong way.  It’s a bad habit we inherited from our first parents who, in their sin of disobedience, went the wrong way, into the hiding place of darkness.

Perhaps the Good News, the central truth of all Scripture, beginning with Moses and the prophets, as Jesus taught the two travelers, is that God always takes the initiative in seeking us out – even when we insist on walking in the wrong direction.  He walks with us, yet never forcing himself on us.  He simply waits patiently for me or Bob or you to say the words: "It’s getting dark.  Stay with us."

It's not too late

 

When Peter told the Jews that Jesus was the Christ, Jesus whom they had just crucified, they were upset.  They were cut to the heart.  They had missed it.  They hadn’t recognized him, they had crucified him, and he was God.  What could they do now?  How could they fix this situation?  It would seem that everything was lost.  They didn’t recognize the Lord, and now he was dead, and it was too late. (Acts 2:36-41)

But it’s Easter. He’s not dead.  In John’s Gospel, Mary Magdalene looks for him in the grave and He’s not there.  He’s risen!  She recognizes Him and tells the others that she’s seen the Lord and He’s not dead. (John 20:11-18)

It’s Easter, and He’s not dead.  And it’s not too late.  Peter tells the Jews to repent and be baptized and they can share in the Holy Spirit.  And they did.  It’s not too late.  They didn’t recognize the Lord before, but they see now, and it’s not too late.

This is the best part.  It’s not too late.  It’s never too late.  We can repent and share in the Holy Spirit.  I didn’t really do everything I wanted to for Lent.  I wanted to spend more time in prayer, but “life” got in the way.  But it’s not too late.  I can take more time this week and pray a little more.  My Lenten sacrifice is a little late, but it’s not too late.  

There have been times (too many!) when I have been presented with an opportunity to make a difference in a stranger’s life; whether by donating money, clothing, food, or just conversation, but I failed to do so.  But it’s not too late.  The Holy Spirit presents me with countless opportunities to make up for my previous lapses in compassion, and I’ve been able to perform many corporal acts of mercy.  It’s not too late.

It’s not too late.  If we recognize Jesus now, if we realize now that He has risen and He lives in us, we can repent now.  We can do what we need to, and we can share in the Holy Spirit.  It’s not too late.

Pushing away our own stones

 

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary raced from the tomb, shaken to their core by what they had just encountered (Matthew 28:8-15).  They were carrying a message from an angel who rolled away the large stone at the tomb’s entrance.  The angel explained to them that Jesus had risen from the tomb and they were to tell His disciples to meet Him in Galilee.  As they ran, they were driven by fear and joy.  The angel’s words tumbled through their thoughts: “Do not be afraid.”  They wondered, even with such joyous news, how could they not feel fearful?

Suddenly they encountered Jesus Himself.  They fell to His feet breathless, elated, and shocked.  Just a few days before, they had witnessed His unspeakable suffering and death.  And now He stood before them witnessing the truth of the message they carried, as He gently echoed the angel’s words: “Do not be afraid.  Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me”.  These two women, the first evangelizers of our resurrected Jesus, had just had a transformative encounter with Him and they were forever changed.  Their fear had vanished.

This year, Easter and the days which follow will be different throughout the Christian world.  It will be different because the world is different.  We’re forever changed.   After a year of tremendous suffering, loss, fear and sorrow due to the pandemic, Jesus invites us to receive the gifts of His Resurrection in a new way.  We’re invited to take slow, courageous steps to emerge from our suffering and walk toward the light.

Easter, the celebration of the Resurrection, extends comfort, solace, and peace to us in a new way.  Although some of us are not yet attending Mass in churches, Easter invites all of us to allow the light, candles, flowers, alleluias, joyful music, and the exhilaration of the Resurrection into our hearts in a more pure and concentrated fashion than in the past because like the two women, we are changed.

We notice things now that we may not have noticed before.  We appreciate aspects of our lives we may not have appreciated.  We carry deep sorrow for lives lost and hardships endured because we’ve suffered ourselves and/or looked into the eyes of others who suffer.  Their pain has become our pain and our pain theirs.  

Easter and our slow emergence from the pandemic invite us to push away the stones that have blocked us in the past from fully hearing and embracing the Easter message or for fully living our lives.  Jesus offers to help us roll away the stones in our hearts.  Stones that have stopped us from extending forgiveness, mercy, compassion, and love.

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary raced from the tomb where the angel had rolled away the stone.  Both the angel and Jesus told them not to be afraid.  As we push away the stones in our lives, may this message of Easter fill us with joy as we go forward without fear and become forever changed.

A day of Life and Joy

 

Today is a day of Life and Joy — the day in which God gives new and so needed meaning to all life in Jesus’ Resurrection.  The tragedy of Jesus’ suffering of abuse, crucifixion, and death is transformed into the gift of His risen Life.  With Mary Magdalene, Peter and John, we witness this unfolding new, risen Life of Jesus; still trying to comprehend its profound meaning (John 20:1-9).

As shared in the Acts of Apostles, Peter helps us as he proclaims the “good news” of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection (Acts 10:34-43).  One can imagine the conviction in his message to those gathered to hear him:  Jesus went about doing good, suffered much, was crucified, died, was raised by God from the dead — and then revealed Himself to His early followers who were to carry the message to others. 

New Life through the Resurrection of Jesus is God’s gift to us as 21st Century followers of Jesus.  Our world of COVID-19, fear, injustice, and violence needs that new Life.  The Resurrection of Jesus gives renewed hope, meaning and purpose to our lives.  Jesus embraced His Paschal Mystery for our benefit today, in 2021!  The challenges and troubles of life today are transformed by Jesus’ risen Life into needed moments of grace and goodness. 

The life and encouragement of our Easter “Alleluia’s” now flow from our hearts and lips.  We are all 21st Century heralds of the risen Jesus, sharing Jesus’ message of hope and healing, life and goodness.

May the Easter Proclamation radiate from our very beings; we are living “alleluia’s”, from head to toe (though at times our “song” might be a bit off key…)!  In the words of Psalm 118, we are to sing out: “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad!” (Psalm 118:24)

Good News indeed…the Word to remember is “Easter”!  Amen!  Alleluia!

We wait in holy darkness

 

On Holy Saturday the Church waits at the Lord’s tomb, meditating on His suffering and death.  The Altar is left bare and the Sacrifice of the Mass, is not celebrated.  Only after the solemn Vigil during the night, held in anticipation of the Resurrection, does the Easter celebration begin, with a spirit of joy which overflows into the following period of fifty days until Pentecost.

Holy Saturday is sacred as the day of the Lord’s rest; it’s been called the “Second Sabbath” after creation.   The day is and should be the most calm and quiet day of the entire Church year, a day broken by no liturgical function.  Christ lies in the grave while the Church sits near and mourns.   After the great battle He’s resting in peace but upon Him, we see the scars of intense suffering; the mortal wounds on His Body remain visible.  Jesus’ enemies are still furious, attempting to obliterate the very memory of the Lord by lies and slander.

Mary and the disciples are grief-stricken, while the Church must mournfully admit, that too many of her children return home from Calvary cold and hard of heart.  When Mother Church reflects upon all of this, it seems as if the wounds of her dearly Beloved were again beginning to bleed.

The Blessed Virgin Mary, as she waits near the Lord’s tomb, as she is represented in Christian tradition, is an icon of the Virgin Church keeping vigil at the Tomb of her Spouse while awaiting the celebration of His Resurrection.

We wait in holy darkness.

We wait and we reflect on all that has happened during this week:

How we waved palm branches to greet our Messiah as He entered Jerusalem (Mark 14:1—15:47); all our hopes wrapped up in Him.

By Good Friday we discovered that even hope has a dark side sometimes.  When our hopes are crushed, we blame our spouse, blame our family, our boss or our nation’s president.  When our hopes are shattered, we may even blame our God.  “Where were You when I needed You?”  “What kind of God permits this suffering?”  Then we toss aside our palm branches.  We may even join the crowd shouting, "Crucify him."

Yet, if we have courage to climb Calvary to die with the Lord, we can discover real hope; hope in God’s promise that in dying to our old self, we too will rise again to new life.

But, for now we sit by the tomb.  We wait in holy darkness.

A very Good Friday

 

The Gospel (John 18:1-19:42) is so rich today.  The following reflections come from “chewing” this powerful story.  I pray they might deepen our gratitude to God today.

“They came looking for him with lanterns and torches and weapons.” 

This is such an irony.  Looking for the Light of the Word and the Prince of Peace with torches and weapons.  Oh, Lord, be Light in the midst of my darkness.  Please bring peace to my heart.

“Whom are you looking for?”

The first words of Jesus in this Gospel are, “What are you looking for?”  There’s no other more important question. Oh, Lord, free my restless heart to seek You and You alone, in all my desiring and in all my loving.

“Shall I not drink the cup the Father gave me?” 

As He washed His disciples’ feet and gave them His body and blood as a sacrament of self-sacrificing love, He gave us an example of how to love, how to say “yes” to our vocations.  Oh, Lord, I love Your example, Your way.  Please free me to drink the cup the Father offers me, that I might love as You have loved me.

“Then the maid who was the gatekeeper said to Peter, ‘You are not one of this man's disciples, are you?’ He said, ‘I am not.’”

My life has many, more embarrassing, denials.  The pain of Jesus’ suffering is related to my personal sin, my own unique ways of denying Him. Oh, Lord, I’m so sorry for choosing whatever I choose to avoid being your disciple.  Please forgive me and heal me.

"They cried out, 'Take him away, take him away! Crucify him!'  Pilate said to them, 'Shall I crucify your king?' The chief priests answered, 'We have no king but Caesar.' Then he handed him over to them to be crucified."

I can hear my own autonomy and stubborn independence.  I’m imagining all the things I do, positions I take, patterns I continue which shout, "I have no allegiance, but to myself!"  Dear Lord, You were handed over for my offenses and omissions.  Thank You.  Through the surrender of Your suffering, death, resurrection and gift of Your Spirit, open my heart that You might more and more become the Lord of my life.

"So they took Jesus, and, carrying the cross himself, he went out to what is called the Place of the Skull, in Hebrew, Golgotha. There they crucified him."

Whatever "cross" I bear, You’ve already carried.  You’ve stumbled and fallen to the ground under its weight.  For me.  That I might not, from this day forward, feel I am carrying my cross alone.  Thank you.

"After this, aware that everything was now finished, in order that the Scripture might be fulfilled, Jesus said, 'I thirst.'
There was a vessel filled with common wine. So they put a sponge soaked in wine on a sprig of hyssop and put it up to his mouth. When Jesus had taken the wine, he said, 'It is finished.' And bowing his head, he handed over the spirit. "

I imagine that at this moment You completely take on the "thirst" of the world.  Everything.  From our crude and banal desires to our deepest longings, to our hunger and thirst for justice.  You finally taste what Your Father has prepared for You to drink.  Then, all that You came to do, to be, is accomplished.  For me.  Then You can humbly bow Your head and give over Your Spirit.  Thank You.

"Blood and water flowed from his side."

Today I desire to be immersed in the life-giving love that flows from Your side.  It’s Your death that I’ve been baptized into.  Baptized to be with You, like You.  A servant, who doesn’t resist suffering in order to love more completely.

"He died and was buried in a tomb on 'preparation day.'" 

You died on the day the lambs were sacrificed in the temple, to prepare for the Passover meal.  You really died and were buried. That I might pass from sin to freedom, from death to life, without fear.  You are the Lamb of God, You take away the sins of the world.  Take away my sins and give me peace.  Thank You.

Good Friday.  It’s about a past event, but it’s made quite real today by my reflection upon it.  It “happens” today, in the sense that I let it happen in me today.  So the seriousness of the day isn’t just sadness and guilt.  If that were all there is, the day would lose its power.  Today I feel the deep feelings that well up inside of me when I open my heart to the death of a loved one, for me.  When I open my emotions to receive the gift of His sacrifice, that I might be free from what enslaves and terrifies me, the overall feeling that grows in strength today is gratitude. 

Then, it feels like a very good Friday, indeed.