Friday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 277

"How can this man give us his Flesh to eat?"
Jesus said to them,
"Amen, amen, I say to you,
unless you eat the Flesh of the Son of Man and drink his Blood,
you do not have life within you.

"Who would believe what we have heard?" 

Can anyone blame the crowds who witnessed a miraculous feast in the wilderness if they doubt the Lord's declaration that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood? It sounds like madness. Certainly, that incident when we were so desperate for food was wonderful. And if the wonder worker insists it was done by God's mighty hand, we can go along with that. But cannibalism? That's too much. Who can believe it? 

But the true disciples of Jesus will remain despite their incredulity. As we'll hear Saint Peter say tomorrow, 

"Master, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God."

 This is not a mystery we need to understand. 

I heard a radio commentary explain recently, on a thorny scientific topic, "This is not so difficult if you begin with Einstein's "theory of relativity." 
"Oh, right!" I said, "Now I get it!" as if that explains anything to me. 

Saint Peter speaks for all of us when he declares that he will remain with the Lord. His faith and ours will be tested and found wanting later in the Gospel, when the Lord is arrested. 
But that's another day and another story. 

In the meanwhile, we remain with Jesus and take his word for it. We do this not so much because he said it as because we see his demeanor when he says it. He is serious, but eager, willing, and joyful; as he said, “I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer." (Luke 22:15)

Medieval schoolmen explained the mystery with the doctrine of transubstantiation. Many people find it helpful. I explained it to second grade teacher one time and she said, "Oh! That makes sense!" 
"It does?" I asked. 
It does nothing for me. 

I hear the Lord commanding me to eat his flesh and drink his blood every time I celebrate or attend Mass, and I only hope I am worthy to do so. It doesn't matter that I cannot explain it. 

I only know it will cost him much suffering, and then his life. And then I will hear and believe another incredible statement, "Greater love than this no one has than he lay down his life for his friends." (John 15:13)

Thursday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 276

I am the living bread that came down from heaven;
whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread that I will give is my Flesh for the life of the world."

Saint John's Gospel uses a dozen variations on the Lord's "I am" statements. They come in two forms, "I am he;" and "I am the....." They anchor our understanding of the Lord, his identity, and his mission. They define our relationship to him. 

In his expression, "I am the bread of life," we hear his insistence that we cannot expect any kind of life without him. We must have bread. It was the staple of life in the biblical mid east as rice is for billions of Asians today; and meat, for Americans. We cannot imagine life without this staple; we would not want to live without it. 

Pope Benedict XVI wrote in in Post-Synodal Apostolic Exhortation, Verbum Domini:

In his own person Jesus brings to fulfillment the ancient image: “The bread of God is that which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world” [when he insists] “I am the bread of life." Here “the law has become a person. When we encounter Jesus, we feed on the living God himself, so to speak; we truly eat ‘the bread from heaven."

In the discourse at Capernaum, John’s Prologue is brought to a deeper level. There God’s Logos became flesh, but here this flesh becomes “bread” given for the life of the world, with an allusion to Jesus’ self-gift in the mystery of the cross, confirmed by the words about his blood being given as drink. The mystery of the Eucharist reveals the true manna, the true bread of heaven: it is God’s Logos made flesh, who gave himself up for us in the paschal mystery. 

The Lord's "I am" is challenging and persistent. While some might read it as an imposition or an invasion, believers hear the Lord's eager, joyous, generous concern for us. He knows himself, and we must know him, as the foundation of everything we know and believe. 

Our experience of life begins in God's self-sacrificing love for us. We must eat his flesh and drink his blood if we would have life. 

Catholics in the United States are preparing for a Eucharistic Congress. Readers like me who want some historic background to anything, can find two timelines of international and American congresses from 1881 in Lille France to 2024 in Indianapolis. One major event occurred near Chicago, Illinois in 1926; very close to our Franciscan "National Shrine of Saint Maximilian Kolbe" at Marytown. 

The Eucharist represents a challenge and invitation especially to an American culture that isolates and lionizes individuals. Even our technology isolates us as we abandon the TV in the family room to privately search the Internet for entertainment and views to suit our particular tastes and opinions. But that momentum began when we refitted our theaters for movies. Actors on the silver screen cannot hear the cheers, applause, or catcalls of the audience; their only reward is money.  

The Eucharist calls us back to the Church where a real flesh-and-blood priestly people worship the living God with their priest or bishop. Children learn the sanctuary is not a stage and they're not there to be entertained. A living priest will insist that the congregation respond with "Amen" and "And with your spirit!" Everyone will recite the Lord's Prayer together with one voice, one mind, and one heart. They will receive the precious Body from the hands of ministers, and the precious Blood from a common chalice. 

The old people in the congregation will remind the children that we have been gathering like this -- often in this very building -- for many generations. History didn't begin when you were born! Nor can you know the meaning of these prayers without the stories of saints, sinners, and martyrs from prehistoric times right up till today. 

The Mass insists that Jesus is the Bread of our Life. It defies that heresy that teaches every man for himself without regard for women or children. It teaches us that we belong to one another and to the Lord -- or we have no life. And certainly, none worth living. 

Wednesday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 275

Saul, meanwhile, was trying to destroy the Church;
entering house after house and dragging out men and women,
he handed them over for imprisonment.

For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction. It's as true of politics and religion as it is of physics. Wait for a reaction; expect it; it will come. It's the pendulum swing, and just as certain. 

Saint Luke's Acts of the Apostles begins with stories of conversion in Jerusalem. Citizens and pilgrims alike flocked to hear and celebrate the good news of Jesus's resurrection. The authorities are unprepared and skeptical; their response, uncertain and tepid. But they gaine momentum like the returning pendulum and violence ensues. Even the urbane Paul, who grew up in the more secular environment of Tarsus, is caught up in the frenzy to stamp out this talk of Jesus once and for all. 

But the Good News spreads! Some newly converted Christians flee from Jerusalem, taking the story to other cities, and even more people are caught up in the excitement. And the reaction follows there. 

If opposition is predictable in politics, it's also predictable in every Christian heart, that private, inner place. We may be caught up in the excitement of Easter Sunday but weary of it by the second or third Sunday. Or at least, no longer interested and just a bit bored. Forty days of Lent was tiresome; fifty days of Eastertide can be more so. By Pentecost, Easter is an ancient memory. What did we do on Easter? Was that this year or last year? 

The Church is in it for the long haul. 

It takes practice, and trying hard is not so important as faithful persistence. We don't make up for lost time in prayer, gratitude, or generosity by trying to be more prayerful, grateful, or generous. Rather, we settle into doing it daily, whether we're in the mood or not. The body says, "Do I have to?" and the mind replies, "Don't ask." 

There are all kinds of theories about how long it takes to start a good habit. I've noticed that a single incident can create a bad habit, but a good habit requires endless repetition, Nor can we wait for someone else to lead the way. They might, but when they get started we'll not go with them. 

Just do it. 

Tuesday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 274

Jesus said to them, "I am the bread of life;
whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst."

The Lord's teaching about the Bread of Life echoes his words to the woman at the well, "...the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life."

However, in John 6, we hear a more compelling expression, "I am...." He had first used it, with unexpected spontaneity, when he responded to the Samaritan woman, 

The woman said to him, “I know that the Messiah is coming, the one called the Anointed; when he comes, he will tell us everything.”

Jesus said to her, “I am he, the one who is speaking with you."

In this chapter about the Eucharist, the Messiah teaches us more about the cost of discipleship as he insists that we must eat his flesh. The cost begins with the surrender of his own life. He is a man born to die for others, and those who follow him also find the meaning and purpose of their lives as they live and die for him. 

"I am..." is repeated many times in the Fourth Gospel. It appears in two forms, "I am he." and "I am the...." He tells us, "I am the..." bread of life, the light of the world, the gate, the good shepherd, the vine, and the way, the truth, and the life.

Oddly, he does not say, "I am the Son of God!" but his opponents accuse him of saying it because he "called God his own father, making himself equal to God." (John 5:18). With the irony typical of Saint John, they are the first to recognize the meaning of his words. 

His final and most dramatic "I am" will come when the Lord is arrested in the Garden of Gethsemane. Judas had led the crowd to him but, as John tells the story, they could not identify him in the darkness. When he asked, "Whom do you seek?" they replied, "Jesus of Nazareth." 

He might have said, "He's not here." But he did say, "I am he" and the threat vanished as they fell to the ground. They could not lay a hand on him until he consented, after he had commanded them to "...let these men go.” 

Our Gospels during this Easter season are largely taken from the Gospel according to Saint John; and this Gospel especially must impress upon us the complete authority of Jesus. Nothing happens to him that was not planned from the beginning. He is the Priest who presides over the sacrifice of his own life; and his commands to follow me and feed my sheep are compelling. 

Everyone who eats his flesh and drinks his blood during our Eucharist must say, "He is the way, the truth, and the life." Where else could I go? 

Monday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 273

“Amen, amen, I say to you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs
but because you ate the loaves and were filled.
Do not work for food that perishes
but for the food that endures for eternal life, which the Son of Man will give you.

"You don't know what's good for you!" I heard it often in my youth. I don't suppose I believed it at the time. I may be more ready to listen and learn today. 

Saint Mark tells us in his second chapter that Peter and the other disciples, rank novices in the Lord's ways, pursued him into the wilderness. He had spent the day healing everyone who came to him. Early the next morning, they tracked him down and found him praying in solitude. When they said, "Everyone is looking for you!" as if they knew what he should be doing, he told them they were moving on to other places to announce God's kingdom. They had been ready to create a shrine and build a hospital around him. The whole world could find him there! 

They didn't know what was good for them. Nor does the crowd in John 5-6 who followed Jesus into the wilderness and back to Capernaum. They certainly knew what they wanted -- any fool can tell you that! --  but they knew nothing of the food that endures for eternal life. Like the woman at the well, who could offer the Lord nothing more than water, they lived in a flat, two-dimensional world where a meal only sustains one until the next meal, and "everyone who drinks this water thirsts again."

Jesus offers us food and drink that endure for eternal life, namely his own flesh and blood. In this post-Easter season, with the songs of alleluia still ringing in our ears, we wonder how to remain close to the Lord who no longer walks with us as an ordinary man. He was with us in that form so briefly, and yet his presence remains powerful, instructive, and reassuring. We have his word, the Word of God, which we hear and ponder. We celebrate the Mass as often as possible; many people attend daily. We retain the Blessed Sacrament in our Churches. (Long before the first monstrance was invented for visible display, the tabernacle, proved his presence among us.)

Finally, there is the awareness we cultivate in our minds and hearts. A fellow once complained to me about his failure to think of God for many hours a day. He said he is often preoccupied with his responsibilities as an employer; and the good feelings he enjoys in prayer that morning dissipate too soon afterward. I asked him, "Do you ever forget that you're married as you work with women and girls?" 
"Of course not!" he said. 
"Nor do you forget the presence of God and yourself as a disciple of Jesus." 

Some people, of course, often forget their commitments as spouses, parents, children, and practicing Christians. We might forget ourselves in the ecstasy of anger, resentment, or fear. Practicing awareness of God in our lives comes with practice and maturity. We learn not to get carried away with our feelings. Even when speaking of the Lord we must practice a certain restraint lest we insult or belittle non-believers. (True faith can be controversial as the Gospels demonstrate, but it doesn't have to be in your face all the time.)

Our Gospels this week invite us to ponder the presence of God in the Blessed Sacrament. We remember the reassuring authority of Jesus as he fed a crowd in the wilderness, as he walked on water while his disciples watched, as he taught the crowd in Capernaum that they must eat his flesh and drink his blood if they would believe in him. 

Many left him when he said that. You and I will stay with him. We know what's good for us. 

Third Sunday of Easter

 Lectionary: 47

Then he said to them, "Why are you troubled?
And why do questions arise in your hearts?
Look at my hands and my feet, that it is I myself.
Touch me and see, because a ghost does not have flesh and bones
as you can see I have."
And as he said this,
he showed them his hands and his feet.

The Lord's Resurrection has always been hard to imagine, and harder to comprehend. Which is why we must continually return to the few stories we have of his appearances. The Evangelists Matthew and Mark reestablish his authority over the disciples, an authority that might have passed to Peter -- and then lost among his opponents. In Saint John's account, authority might settle on the more pious, like Mary Magdalene, the "mother of Jesus," or "the one whom Jesus loved," rather than the more practical Peter. 

But Saint Luke insists upon the continuing life, presence, and authority of his risen human body. He remains with us as a man and a Jew. We know him by his hands and feet. He is clearly, undeniably present, despite his miserable death -- which we saw! Not only is his tomb empty, he ate baked fish with us! Obviously, neither death, nor hell, nor the grave could contain him. 

The authority of a living man is something to be reckoned with. When Abimael Guzmán was arrested and tried for leading the terrorist organization, Sendero Luminoso, ("Shining Path") the Peruvian government sentenced him to life in prison. Had they executed him his followers might have agreed upon his successor. But since he was still in prison, some hoped he might be released while others argued over who should take his place. They were weakened by the division. 

Christians remain united around the Lord who remains physically present with us. We have seen him; we still "break bread" with him; there is no replacing him. 

In recent years, some have challenged his maleness. Couldn't the Savior be a female? What if he were a she? Would it make a difference? Was the only reason the Lord was male was in those days  no one would follow a woman? 

He was a man because he could not be both male and female. 

We are saved by a sexual human being as we all are, and one like us in all things but sin. We are saved by a person who lived in a particular place and time, as we all do. We know enough about his family and society to say he did not live "once upon a time," or "in a land far, far away." Saint Luke tells us of particular moments in his life, moments his older readers would remember. As when Augustus Caesar was the emperor, and King Herod the Great governed in Israel. Jesus of Nazareth is not a myth although his life, teachings, death, and resurrection have mythological significance. 

Nor should we say he is the ideal man. The Bible is not idealistic. By definition, an ideal is unattainable. When God spells out the laws of his covenant, he tells us how we must behave, and what we must not do. These are not goals to attain or ideals to strive for. They are directives of our behavior, standards we must keep, and limits we dare not exceed.

Because he lived in an identifiable place and time like every other human being, anyone can relate to him directly -- provided they are willing to go the extra mile with someone from a distant place and different culture. Jesus is not a fantasy who can be reimagined to fit anyone's personal tastes. His appearance, we can assume since the evangelists did not describe it, was unexceptional; it was typical of his time and place. 

But if we're unwilling to meet and engage with other human beings, we can have no encounter with Jesus. Some people say they love the Lord but no one else; they worship an idea which they call Jesus. 

As we struggle to discern how we should live as men and women in this 21st century, we turn to the man who lived and died twenty centuries ago; and who lives with us still. We ask him to teach us what to say and what to do, and the limits of both. We serve him like the astonished disciples who gave him something to eat. 

Finally, the Scriptures insist, because he was a human being, he can save us from our sins. And we love him for that. 

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has passed through the heavens, Jesus, the Son of God, let us hold fast to our confession. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who has similarly been tested in every way, yet without sin. So let us confidently approach the throne of grace to receive mercy and to find grace for timely help. Hebrews 4:15-16

Saturday of the Second Week of Easter

Lectionary: 272

When they had rowed about three or four miles,
they saw Jesus walking on the sea and coming near the boat,
and they began to be afraid.
But he said to them, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”

The synoptic Gospels give us a similar story about Jesus's authority over the wind and sea. In some cases he stood up in the boat and commanded the storm and high waves to pipe down; in others he walked across the water and scared the bejeebies out of his disciples. Scholars say the stories address the fright of the early Church as it faced the challenges of its day. 

Saint John has placed the familiar story between yesterday's feeding of several thousand in the wilderness, and Monday's explanation about the loaves to the same crowd in Capernaum. They had crossed the sea in pursuit of him, and their first question was, "How did you get here?" They couldn't suppose that he'd walked on the water, but Jesus did not bother to answer. As to where he came from and how he got here, the Lord will finally respond to Pontius Pilate, "I came into this world to testify to the truth. 

He follows up the sign of feeding the crowd by teaching about faith, works, and the Eucharist. The sermon occupies the rest of Chapter 6 and concludes with a crisis worse than a storm at sea. Many of those who believe in him opt out. Despite his fascinating authority over the elements, and his providential feeding of the hungry crowd in the wilderness, his teaching about eating his own flesh is too much. If the crowd supposes he is the Messiah, this teaching is too radical for them; and perhaps too grotesque to be taken seriously. 

We are traversing troubled water here, but our Lord and Savior is taking a walk in the park in the same pond! We might notice they wanted to take him into the boat but it wasn't necessary as they had already arrived at the opposite shore. 

This going with Jesus, which seems so pleasant at first, must finally frighten even the most courageous disciples. But, as John the Evangelist tells the story, the Lord is troubled neither by its challenges nor their leaving. He does not attempt to explain the truth in other words, for many have already decided not to understand, accept, or believe what he says. He will not say he is speaking in metaphors or symbolically. Because he is not; he means my Flesh literally. 

That trouble will always remain with the Church. While many critics within and outside the Church are sympathetic and willing to both listen and learn, some have settled in darkness and will not come out. If the sun was eclipsed for a few moments on that long ago Friday afternoon, their sun remains dark forever. 

We can explain what we believe but our belief is built on our personal faith in the Risen Lord. Although the truth is willing to be known, and is comprehensible to a certain point, it does not rely on anyone's willingness or ability to understand. The Lord understood that from the beginning, as he said: 

No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw him, and I will raise him on the last day. It is written in the prophets: ‘They shall all be taught by God.’ Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me. (John 6:44)

As we listen and learn from the Father, we become willing to take the Lord onboard; and, in that very willingness, arrive on the opposite shore.