Saturday of the Second Week of Easter

Lectionary: 272

But he said to them, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”
They wanted to take him into the boat, but the boat immediately arrived at the shore to which they were heading.

Frail creatures of mud, we are also easily frightened. Without fang, claw, or heavy shell, we survive by our collective cleverness; and thrive by remembering both the failures and successes of the past. 

We are city building animals. When enough people agree to a common set of laws their prospects improve, individual learn specialized skills, and they support the city by trade and neighborly civility.  With sufficient leisure they discover the pleasures of creativity and the arts. But when they feel harassed, they also long for an idyllic rural retreat with all the urban securities and familiar comforts. And maybe, some time on the water! How sweet it is! 

In today's gospel the boys find themselves struggling in a tempestuous, liquid environment, lacking even the assurance of solid earth beneath them. Add to that the specter of a maritime ghost. Who knows how many lost sailors and drowned fishermen might stalk the waves, searching for companions? Their appearance surely augers doom for the luckless disciples. 

Saint Francis of Assisi also explored the isolation of rural retreats. Willing to fast and suffer inconvenience, he moved to the fringes of an urban infrastructure that was already ten thousands years old. He settled first in a leper colony, and then took to the road and the mission trail. His fixed abode, when his followers needed one, would be an abandoned shack at Rivo Torto, near Assisi. 

His only assurance was the Lord. Owning nothing worth stealing and attached to nothing worth owning, he could befriend every thief and bandit who might find him in the wilderness. If they were interested he might regale them with stories of the Bible and the saints. 

He must have been frightened on many occasions by the mutterings and weird sounds of night, but he also heard in his mind's ears the welcome greeting, “It is I. Do not be afraid.”

He could no more capture that sound than he could hold a specter in his arms, but he allowed both fears and assurances free passage through the night. He had seen enough privilege and success to know their illusions; they promised much and delivered less than nothing. He found his confidence in God's supreme presence. 

Today's gospel about midnight fears on the open sea lead us to consider more deeply the mystery of the Eucharist. The rest of John 6 will take us back to solid ground and the companionship of others, but we'll not find urban serenity there, nor much civility. The human world is in turmoil as Jesus insistently, authoritatively speaks of apparent cannibalism. His disciples must trust him and accept his word despite their confusion, uncertainty, and the abrupt departure of many disciples. 

As we live in a polarized, increasingly irrational nation which promises freedom and threatens civil war, we do well to hear the call of that familiar voice, "It is I. Do not be afraid." 

Memorial of Saint Catherine of Siena, Virgin and Doctor of the Church

  Lectionary: 271

Jesus said, “Have the people recline.” Now there was a great deal of grass in that place. So the men reclined, about five thousand in number.

In a similar setting Saint Matthew tells us, 

At the sight of the crowds, his heart was moved with pity for them because they were troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd.

The setting is pastoral and the people are like sheep in deep grass, content to be led, fed, and guided by the Shepherd. 

Today we begin a series of readings from John 6 which concern our deep and beautiful mystery of the Eucharist. Here is a gift the Lord is eager to give to us, and the Holy Spirit, moving within us, is equally eager to receive it. 

Arriving in this field of green grass, the pastor will remind us we must be disposed to receive the gifts he will offer. We must, for a time, lay aside the pretense of individual with its isolating pride and cocksure arrogance. The Spirit moves in us like an instinct, it compels us to fly like birds in a flock and sheep around the shepherd. The individual will say, "I don't need or want to be alone any longer! I want to be here with the Lord and his people. I want to belong to them and to him." 

It doesn't hurt to pause for a moment -- as we do at the beginning of each Mass -- to notice our reluctance. There is always that fearful urgency that says, "I have things to do. I've got people to see and places to go. How long will this take? Can we get this over with?" 

I confess to almighty God.... Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. 

As the principle celebrant of the Mass I have often noticed the readiness of the men and women in the assembly. They know the responses and gestures, and when to stand, sit, and kneel. They move together as one, forming a line to receive communion. Hearing the familiar words of the Eucharistic prayer their faces are soft; their manner, receptive. If their minds are wandering, they're not paying attention to their minds. Their hearts are with their Lord.  

Sometimes a visitor from another diocese may notice certain differences. In this church we remain standing while the congregation receives the Blessed Sacrament, until the presider sits down. But they are used to kneeling during that time. An individual might choose to demonstrate their superior piety and kneel. Some might interrupt the flow of the reception line and kneel or genuflect to receive the Eucharist. But most people don't need to be different. They have surrendered their apartness. Disposed by the Spirit, they obey the flocking instinct of this particular congregation. 

(It is not by accident that the city in the adage, "When in Rome...." is Catholicism's holy city. Although we are citizens of every nation on Earth, we worship God à la Romans.)  

Saint Matthew noticed the gathering crowd was "troubled and abandoned, like sheep without a shepherd."  Abandonment is one of the most common complaints heard in psychiatric circles. A nation that prizes individuality avoids parenting, mentoring, and befriending. Children feel like orphans in their own homes, and many have been orphaned by divorce. Some escape the isolation to find friendship in the cruel streets of urban centers, where they die.  

The Spirit of God invites us to surrender those fearful habits and attitudes. We gather to pray and bow our heads in worship. We relax with the Lord, letting the world with its 24/7 news cycle pass us by. We are where we need to be, right here with Jesus, before God our Father. 

Thursday of the Second Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 270

The God of our ancestors raised Jesus, though you had him killed by hanging him on a tree. God exalted him at his right hand as leader and savior to grant Israel repentance and forgiveness of sins. We are witnesses of these things, as is the Holy Spirit whom God has given to those who obey him.”

I was deeply impressed by my reading of Luke Timothy Johnson's Prophetic Jesus, Prophetic Church, subtitled The Challenge of Luke/Acts to Contemporary Christians. I recommend his book especially during the fifty day march from Easter to Pentecost when all of the weekday readings are taken from the Acts of the Apostles. First he shows how Luke's books reflect one another; the same Spirit that drove Jesus from Galilee to Jerusalem, impelled his disciples from Jerusalem to the far reaches of the Earth. Secondly, prophetically, he challenges Christian churches with their reluctance to heed the Spirit's urgency. 

The Acts especially shows how Jesus's words are fulfilled:

"(The Father) does not ration his gift of the Spirit." 

If Peter and the Apostles in today's reading had any fear of the Sanhedrin and the Roman authorities, they certainly didn't show it. Yesterday we heard of the comical incident when the Sanhedrin had the men jailed overnight. An angel released them and they returned to the temple early the next day, before the Sanhedrin convened, to resume their proclamation. When the Jewish authorities directed the jailer to bring them in to continue the trial and inevitable sentencing, he reported with some astonishment that they had escaped. And then someone else pointed out, "They're out there preaching again!" 

Hello? Who's in charge here?

I can, for the moment, restrain my impulse to judge churches for their apparent reluctance. I leave that to God. But I will remind my readers that American history is replete with men and women who defied the law and social conventions as they were caught up in the Spirit. Some were crackpots, it's true, but each left indelible traces in our history books.  I think of John Brown and Joseph Smith and Margaret Sanger; love them or despise them you have to admit they were impelled by some kind of spirit and were fearless. Many others draw only our admiration, like Harriet Tubman, Sojourner Truth, and Frederick Douglas. 

How fascinating that some would restrain the Spirit in their suppression of the mysterious CRT. We can imagine Gamaliel come back from the dead to say, (as we'll hear tomorrow)...

"...if this endeavor or this activity is of human origin,
it will destroy itself.
But if it comes from God, you will not be able to destroy them;
you may even find yourselves fighting against God.”

When the Spirit ceases to cause controversy and turmoil in our society, we'll know we have been abandoned. We'll have become a nation like every other nation, doomed by forces beyond our control. 

In the meanwhile, we must see that women and men in our own country and in many other places, still suffer persecution for our faith. The Spirit of martyrdom abides and persecution continues in many forms. If American Christians sleep without fear of midnight arrests, we cannot ignore the plight of brothers and sisters in Muslim societies and formerly Christian nations. Only a fool would believe it cannot happen here; or that it might never happen within their lifetime. As Jesus said, "From the days of John the Baptist until now, the kingdom of heaven suffers violence, and the violent are taking it by force." 

In the security of my own friary and the serenity of our chapel at Mount Saint Francis, I pray that we might be found worthy of their companionship. When Judgement Day comes we will beg the martyrs to speak a word on our behalf, and to declare that we indeed supported them with prayer and sacrifice. 

Wednesday of the Second Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 269

God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but that the world might be saved through him.

One of the VA chaplains, by way of conversation, asked which verse I considered the heart of the gospel. I cited John 3:16, the first words of today's second reading. He offered the parable of the Good Samaritan. And then agreed that the mystery of the gospel cannot be encapsulated with any formula. Jesus recommended the commandments of love of God and neighbor, but his last words were "Make disciples of all nations." 

John 3:16 recommends itself with the allusion to Abraham's sacrifice of Isaac. (Genesis 22) Although the killing was not completed, and the sacrifice of Jesus was, Abraham matched God's raise by his offer. He did not hesitate to give more than his own life; he would give his only beloved son. God also gave more than his own divine life with the passion and death of Jesus. 

Jesus, the Son of God, coequal with the Father, as the priest, lamb, and altar of sacrifice, added, "No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends." 

As a love commandment, that verse appears in the Lord's description of our mission, 

This is my commandment: love one another as I love you.
No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.
You are my friends if you do what I command you. (John 15:12-14)

The Spirit speaks with one voice in these three verses. They speak of God's love for us and of the response we can give as the Spirit enables us. 

Anyone might plead their human weakness to excuse their failure to live by the commandment to love as I have loved you. But the excuse is lame for God's spirit more than makes up for our human weakness. If someone demanded a billion dollar gift of me I could plead my poverty, until the same creditor gave me a billion dollars with the assurance of more to come. In the Spirit we can do all things, as Saint Paul said, "I have the strength for everything through him who empowers me."

When asked, this is how I understand the essence of the gospel. I am sure there are many similar verses in the bible which might be cited with equal authority but all represent the same inviting challenge. The parable of the Good Samaritan alludes to the generosity that Christians and non-Christians alike demonstrate every day. (The Samaritan represents everyone who has heard the name of Jesus.) There can be no society or civilization without people who routinely give freely and without hesitation to friends and strangers alike. It's our nature!

Our sinful inclinations are, like the plea of poverty, obviated by the superabundant grace of Jesus's life, death, and resurrection. Go and do likewise. 

Tuesday of the Second Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 268

"There was no needy person among them, for those who owned property or houses would sell them, bring the proceeds of the sale, and put them at the feet of the Apostles, and they were distributed to each according to need."

In today's gospel, the conversation with Nicodemus, the Lord draws a sharp distinction between those who live by the Spirit and those who don't. The latter are the "Jews," as they appear in the Fourth Gospel, with Nicodemus among them. They comprehend neither where the Spirit goes nor whence it comes. 

The irony is reflected in today's first reading as we learn how the early converts shared everything they owned. There was neither rich nor poor among them. 

The story intentionally recalls Exodus 16: 17-18: 

The Israelites gathered a large and some a small amount (of manna). But when they measured it out by the omer, the one who had gathered a large amount did not have too much, and the one who had gathered a small amount did not have too little. They gathered as much as each needed to eat.

This principle of share and share alike, or mi casa es su casa, is understood and practiced by those who are guided by the Holy Spirit. They trust the Lord who provides; they believe there will always be enough. Elijah with his hosts, a poor woman and her son, had enough wheat flour and olive oil to survive a long drought because the woman welcomed Elijah and trusted his word. 

"The jar of flour did not go empty, nor the jug of oil run dry, according to the word of the LORD spoken through Elijah."

Corrie ten Boom, who survived a Nazi death camp, recalled how the prisoners shared a small bottle of yeast that someone had sent from the camp kitchen. It provided some essential vitamins to the starving workers. They had only one bottle and a teaspoon, and yet the bottle seemed replenished each morning. It dried up only when they began to get better food.  

Many Christians tithe, giving ten percent of their income to the Church, with the confidence that God will provide should there be a shortage. Many swear they cannot afford not to tithe. 

The eye of God, a symbol of God's providence,
in the chapel at Mount Saint Francis. Notice the snake
consuming itself, a symbol of eternity.

Nicodemus, "a teacher in Israel," did not understand the workings of the Holy Spirit. He was a member of the Sanhedrin which, fearing what might happen if the problem of Jesus were not addressed, conspired with the Romans to have him crucified. They did not believe God would protect them if they did the right thing. 

Fortunately, Nicodemus remained sympathetic to Jesus. He argued with the Sanhedrin against their cruel intentions, and contributed an astonishing mixture of myrrh and aloes when the Lord was buried. 

The Word of the Lord endures forever and the Holy Spirit still urges us to trust in God's providence. There will be enough if we share and share alike. And hoarders will perish in misery. 

Feast of Saint Mark, evangelist

 Lectionary: 555

I write you this briefly through Silvanus, whom I consider a faithful brother, exhorting you and testifying that this is the true grace of God. Remain firm in it. The chosen one at Babylon sends you greeting, as does Mark, my son.

Greet one another with a loving kiss. Peace to all of you who are in Christ.

"The Lord gave me brothers!" Saint Francis wrote toward the end of his life. No matter how large the Franciscan Order becomes, with its Rule, constitutions, and bylaws, it should always be a group of fellows who know and care about one another. Francis, of course, wrote in the spirit of Saint Paul. As the Apostle wrote the letters that would shape the Church and be read until the end of time, he always sent personal greetings to his friends, whom he called by name, Saint Mark among them. 

Here is something I think about: We use the word law to describe how people and organizations should operate; and the same word law to describe principles in the mechanical world. But the law of gravity is not really like the Constitution of the United States. 

But we often think they might be. When a judge decides criminal cases, they should apply principles of the law to perpetrators and their crimes. In many cases, some people suppose the appropriate laws will automatically apply. But, because the perpetrators are human beings, as are judges, jurors, prosecuting attorneys, defense attorneys, witnesses and victims, the laws sometimes don't seem right. They may be too strict or too lenient; they might apply to this particular case, or not. We often say, "There ought to be a law" which would apply in this circumstance, but we might not be able to decide what that law should be. So how are these human laws like the law of gravity? 

There was a time, not very long ago, when no one knew the sun rose and set because the land and all its peoples were turning under it. They didn't know earthquakes are caused by continental drift, or that the seasons depend upon the orbit of an off kilter planet around the Sun. 

There were no machines. The first mechanical clocks were invented in Europe in the fourteen century. The clock is the ur-machine that set the pattern for all subsequent machinery and radically altered our understanding of life on this planet. The earth with its seasons, weather, rivers, glaciers, and tides became a massive machine, like a clock, automatic, predictable, and impersonal. 

So why in the thirteen century did the sun rise and set, the seasons change, and the earth quake? Without the alternate paradigm of machinery, there was only a personal God to cause these things. If crops flourished, God blessed us; if they failed, God was punishing us. There was no machine, there were only persons. 

And, I suppose, when judges decided cases, they didn't feel compelled by impersonal laws; the entire world was personal, and everything in it. 

The Church too is just people, like Mark, Paul, Veronica, Jesus, Mother Theresa, and Pope Francis. It's governed by people and we hope they're influenced directly by the Holy Spirit who is more like a person than like the wind or flowing water or raging fire -- although the Holy Spirit is often likened to these impersonal things. (If they are indeed impersonal!) 

Today we celebrate the Evangelist of the oldest gospel, and not his book, remembering Mark as one of the brothers. We are inspired and guided by brothers and sisters, and pray that they are inspired and guided by the Holy Spirit. The Church may look like an institution; it may be compared to a rock or a boat. But we're really just people gathered, blessed, disciplined, chastened, and guided by the Mercy of God. 

Sunday of Divine Mercy

, 

 Lectionary: 45

Thomas answered and said to him, “My Lord and my God!”

Jesus said to him, “Have you come to believe because you have seen me?

Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

The key to our salvation, as Saint Paul insists, is our faith in Jesus Christ.

For through the Spirit, by faith, we await the hope of righteousness. For in Christ Jesus, neither circumcision nor uncircumcision counts for anything, but only faith working through love. (Galatians 5: 5-6)

The Gospel of Saint John also demands a ready belief in Jesus; we must take him at his word. The Fourth Gospel describes several wonderful signs but none are so overpowering that we are stunned into unquestioning acceptance. His miracle are never proofs of his divinity. Nor has the Lord come to browbeat us into faith; he will not exhaust us emotionally or spiritually and render us helpless before his demand. That kind of compliance, were we to render it to God or the Church or some maniac preacher, is not faith. 

But Saint John's gospel recalls with approval those who accept the Word of God from the mouth of Jesus. And so we're given the story of the royal official in Chapter 4. He begged the Lord to come to his home, "Sir, come down before my child dies!" Jesus did not go to the man's home but told him, “'You may go; your son will live.' The man believed what Jesus said to him and left."

The Lord is just as close to us in his absence as in his presence, and his authority demands the same obedience. The royal official's faith is a blessed righteousness which receives a powerful grace to heal his child, as Saint Paul said of Abraham: 

"He did not doubt God’s promise in unbelief; rather, he was empowered by faith and gave glory to God. and was fully convinced that what he had promised he was also able to do. That is why “it was credited to him as righteousness.” (Romans 4: 20-22 & Genesis 15:6)

Today's story of Saint Thomas brings the Gospel to a fitting climax as Saint Thomas declares his faith in Jesus, "My Lord and My God!" Jesus, speaking more to us than to the foolish apostle, declares, "Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

Many people suppose that doubt is the opposite of faith. I don't think so. Doubt is the negative which invites a positive response. Faith acts in the moment of doubt, fulfilling its expectation like a positive electrical charge which floods the negative readiness to receive it. But there's nothing automatic or reflexive about faith; it is a decision -- often courageous -- to trust God and his Son Jesus. 

 

The opposite of faith is not doubt but betrayal. All four gospels horrify us with the story of Judas Iscariot, "who betrayed him." The Evangelists only suggest why he betrayed the Lord. His accepting thirty pieces of silver certainly looks like greed. But there are a million reasons for the failure to act generously, graciously, and courageously. And only the Lord and his Mother never sinned against faith. 

We need not condemn Thomas for his doubt. The Evangelist only says he "was not with them when Jesus came." There is no judgement in that flat statement. But he failed to accept the Apostolic authority -- the Magisterium -- of the nascent Church, as you and I have done; and for that he earns Jesus's bemused rebuke. 

Thomas did not betray the Lord, nor do we in those moments of anguish when we feel lonely, separated, or abandoned by the Presence of God. Rather, we take the opportunity to turn to God in the silence and invite the Spirit to charge us once again with the courage and confidence to carry the cross with Jesus. 

Saturday in the Octave of Easter

 Lectionary: 266

When Jesus had risen, early on the first day of the week, he appeared first to Mary Magdalene, out of whom he had driven seven demons. She went and told his companions who were mourning and weeping. When they heard that he was alive and had been seen by her, they did not believe.

Among the many influences of my formation in the 1950's was Jack Webb's insistent demand, "Just the facts, Ma'am." Detective Joe Friday was not interested in the victim's anguish or the perpetrator's apparent motives; he wanted only the "facts."  

In that halcyon age, journalism, police work, history, and the vast field of scientific research sought to arrange the known facts into plausible, useful theories that would explain what happens in the objective world. There is no need for opinions, prejudices, and beliefs. These bold discovers would detect the "real world" where humans exist but only as objects to be studied and analysed. Nothing in that world is touched by divine action; God should not play any part. "An act of God" explained what happened only when there were no other theories; but it did not suppose God actually exists or does anything. 

Many people still think that way, even in our post-modern, post-truth era. It is especially useful to those who would deny the Resurrection of Jesus. The gospels are delightfully confusing about the facts. What really happened? When? What was said? Who saw it? Were there many witnesses, or only a few? Why is there no consistent narrative?

Matthew and Mark suggest the Lord appeared to his disciples only in Galilee. Luke and John tell of his appearances in Jerusalem, especially in the Upper Room. Did he appear only occasionally and unexpectedly, for brief moments? Or did he remain with them as if he had never died at all, as Acts 1:3 seems to suggest? 

They ask but they get no answers. The gospels offer nothing more than anecdotal evidence of what really happened. Some believers have speculated that the empty tomb was a "fact." But what does an empty tomb prove? Only that it was empty. You'd be hard pressed to build a dynamic faith that would compel you to preach the Gospel to the ends of the earth on that factoid. 

Of course, that skeptical, just-the-facts approach is flawed from the start; when you assume that God does not and should not act in our world, you cannot explain what God has actually done. 

Meanwhile, we the Church believe that the Son of Mary, Jesus of Nazareth, was crucified and buried; but rose from the dead and has been revealed as the Only Begotten Son of God. Nor could we build a religious faith without that "fact." As Saint Paul wrote to the Corinthians (1 Cor 15:14):

And if Christ has not been raised, then empty [too] is our preaching; empty, too, your faith. Then we are also false witnesses to God, because we testified against God that he raised Christ, whom he did not raise if in fact the dead are not raised. For if the dead are not raised, neither has Christ been raised, and if Christ has not been raised,* your faith is vain; you are still in your sins.

I say "the gospels are delightfully confusing" because, as we celebrate Easter we can only laugh at the conquered enemies who howl in protest. They cannot disprove our faith; not even the betrayal of Judas and countless subsequent betrayals in every level of the Church can dislodge our conviction that we are saved by the sacrificial death and glorious resurrection of our Redeemer. If we cannot explain it, we don't need an explanation. 

Our joy, courage, generosity, and boundless patience are proof enough of God's action in our world. We have seen opponents of faith come, and we've seen them go. We heard their endless fuming. Their misconceived arguments that faith is not reasonable and doctrines are not facts cannot dissuade us from eager, obedient listening for the Spirit's guidance. Nor would we, for all the world, cease thanking God for calling us to freedom. 

Friday in the Octave of Easter

 Lectionary: 265

When they climbed out on shore, they saw a charcoal fire with fish on it and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish you just caught.”

In the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible, there are only three references to charcoal, and two are in the Gospel of Saint John. The first is found in Chapter 18, and the scene is Herod's courtyard:

Now the slaves and the guards were standing around a charcoal fire that they had made, because it was cold, and were warming themselves. Peter was also standing there keeping warm.

The charcoal fire in chapter 22 immediately recalls Peter's insistent denial of knowing Jesus. Smells are often powerful reminders of ancient memories; the smell of burning charcoal must evoke in the apostle's mind his remorse, shame, and guilt about that terrible evening. 

The unnamed beloved disciple, whom we presume is Saint John, was with Peter on both occasions. He was acquainted with the high priest and used his personal connection to arrange for Peter's admission to Herod's courtyard. Though John seems to have a particularly affectionate relationship with the Lord and is the first to believe in his resurrection, he is nonetheless standing with Peter by both charcoal fires. He may be a guilty bystander for his silence when Saint Peter was twice challenged with knowing the Accused. He said nothing when he might have spoken up. 

Scripture scholars regard this twenty-second chapter of Saint John's Gospel as an epilogue to the original text; it was probably written by another author and appended at a later date. It is nonetheless canonical -- that is, it is truly God's word -- but we wonder what to make of it. 

Perhaps this story concerns the atonement every disciple must make after they have turned to the Lord for mercy. We have sinned against the Lord and the Gospel we love. We freely confess our sins and remember them with bitter regret. Years after we have adapted to the blessed way of life, after all the old, compromising relationships are finished, acquaintances are forgotten, and sinful habits unlearned, many still feel the sharp pang of remorse. "What was I thinking? How could I be so stupid? Why didn't I know better?" 

We cannot carry that load into eternal bliss. God's perfect beauty and sovereign authority cannot be content with partial atonement. More is demanded of us than just regret for our past. The Lord God deserves and demands nothing less than perfection. The reconciliation which Jesus has effected by his passion, death, and resurrection must complete the story of our lives. They must become gospel stories. 

The Sacrament of Penance has been called confession. Protestants use the same word with a very different intent; it means the public acknowledgement of knowing and loving Jesus Christ. Where Catholics confess our sins, Protestants confess their faith. 

But Catholic confession should finally mature into a Gospel proclamation: I was lost but Jesus found me; I was dead but I arose. The Sacrament of Reconciliation is -- or should be -- a happy occasion when we celebrate with joy the mercy of God. I have done wrong; I know, and I own it. But the Lord in his mercy has exposed my sin and insistently brought me back to grace. 

The Hound of Heaven does not allow us to wallow in remorse. He insists that we rejoice in the memory of sin which is now coupled with, and encased within, gratitude for God's mercy, healing, and joy. Every time I remember the sins of my youth I should feel elated at how the Lord brought me back. 

Every Christian's personal story is a gospel, but it's not about the individual. It's about the victory of Jesus Christ over sin and death.

Thursday in the Octave of Easter

 Lectionary: 264

But they were startled and terrified and thought that they were seeing a ghost. 
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.”

Preachers of every age have often tried to explain or describe the Lord's Resurrection in words, images, or theories that made sense to their contemporaries. If they tried too hard they found theories that explained everything. Some might say the Lord was resuscitated; he'd not actually died. Others, at the opposite end, said the disciples, despite the trauma of Good Friday, were inspired by God and swept away by a collective imagination. They suddenly understood what the Deceased had been saying and believed that his Spirit was still alive and compelling them to preach. So he was alive in that sense, although nonetheless dead. 

A third, more lasting, theory proposed that Jesus's body had been truly raised up miraculously and with new, astonishing skills. He could pass through locked doors and disappear into thin air. But after the Ascension his body finally evaporated or dissolved; it was completely absorbed into His divinity like a drop of ink in the ocean. 

This third explanation made him eminently relatable. Jesus is neither Jew nor gentile; Asian, European or African; red, yellow, black, or white; male or female. He is the Lord of all time and of no time. He is physically whatever you want him to be because his humanity doesn't really matter, and his physicality is no more. He may be known by every age since he doesn't exist in time. He is a Spirit and anyone can be inspired by the Lord Jesus. 

The theory explained why the disciples were so excited on that Easter Sunday, and why he doesn't appear anymore. They saw and were convinced and went out to tell everyone about what they had seen and heard. But he would not reappear to confute hostile skeptics or overwhelm persecuting tyrants. That day had passed.  

This third explanation, known as monophysitism, was condemned by the Council of Chalcedon in 451. And, like any good heresy, it persists to this day. We saw its most ludicrous manifestation on January 6, 2021. Though some of the rioters carried dangerous weapon, most believed their sincerity would interrupt the government machinery and the former president's lies would be recognized as Truth. In other words, the truth is like the Lord's human nature, whatever you want it to be. 

The Church, in the spirit of Chalcedon, can point to today's gospel as we remember the Lord's physical nature. We cannot and need not explain how he rose from the dead, nor how he got through locked doors. But it helps to remember that, on that first Easter evening, the Lord personally demolished their theory -- "they thought they were seeing a ghost" -- by impressing them with his very real flesh. He even ate with them -- "They gave him a piece of baked fish; he took it and ate it in front of them" -- something which ghosts don't ordinarily do.

Why is this relevant? It does matter what you believe. I met a self-described Baptist in the VA who assured me his Baptist preacher had told him he need not attend Church. But the minister had not explained how the Lord would challenge his bad habits and racist attitudes in the absence of fellow Christians. TV, newspapers, or social media might warn him, but they are easily dismissed. He was "free" to believe and say and do whatever truth he liked with the assurance that, "God loves you anyway." 

I found it hard to imagine why a Baptist preacher would make such a stupid remark; but if he did he echoed what the majority of Americans believe: that truth doesn't matter. It's whatever you think. The consumer is always right, even when they're consuming bad religion.  

In the Spirit of Chalcedon, the Church maintains its authority over the faithful, including the Pope, the prelates, and those in the pew. If it is a spiritual authority, it is nonetheless real. We dare not believe that elective abortion is acceptable, or that suicide is always an option. We accept and ponder the mysteries of Trinity, Incarnation, and Grace. We delight in the Lord's transubstantial presence in the Blessed Sacrament. We accept the teaching authority of the Church which the Lord invested in Peter and his successors. We thank God for the obligation to attend Sunday Mass and would not miss it for the world. We confess our real sins to a priest.    

We're not pretending that we believe. Our thoughts, words, and deeds prove our faith. They occur in real time and have real consequences. Because the Risen Lord really is Our Savior. 

Wednesday in the Octave of Easter

 Lectionary: 263

That very day, the first day of the week,
two of Jesus’ disciples were going
to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus...

A major motif of Saint Luke's two books, the Gospel and Acts of the Apostles, is journey. To name a few: 

• "the angel Gabriel was sent from God to a town of Galilee called Nazareth;" 
• "Mary set out and traveled to the hill country in haste to a town of Judah,"
• "And Joseph too went up from Galilee from the town of Nazareth to Judea, to the city of David that is called Bethlehem... to be enrolled with Mary, his betrothed, who was with child."
• When the days were completed for their purification... they took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord"
• Each year his parents went to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover,"
• Filled with the holy Spirit, Jesus returned from the Jordan and was led by the Spirit into the desert for forty days, to be tempted by the devil.
• (and finally, most importantly,) "When the days for his being taken up were fulfilled, he resolutely determined to journey to Jerusalem, and he sent messengers ahead of him

In today's gospel, when the narrative is about to segue into Acts, we hear of two disciples leaving Jerusalem for nearby Emmaus. Unlike other journeys in Luke's accounts, this one doesn't seem to have a purpose. Why are they going there? Perhaps, after the trauma of Friday, they have lost faith and are returning to their homes, families, and trades -- despite the wild rumors they heard that morning. Has their disappointment made them cynical and they refused to believe the women's stories? 

I met a chaplain in the VA who was writing a doctoral thesis on "the loss of spirituality among Veterans." I wondered what they had lost. In my experience few of them had ever had a spirituality to lose. I met Catholic patients who had lost their faith, especially in the traumas of Vietnam, Nicaragua, Iraq, and Afghanistan. They told me about their boyhood service at the altar, and attending Catholic grade and high schools. Some had briefly enjoyed the purposeful life of military service, especially because the military reinforces its principles with solemn ceremonies and rituals. (Catholics love that sort of thing.) 

But only some found direction or meaning upon returning home to family and career. They often found the transition to civilian life very difficult. They had entered as boys and girls and come out as men and women, but the adult models they'd met in uniform disappeared in civilian life. Some who had engaged in combat wondered why they should care whether their spouses painted the rooms apple green or pistachio green. "Whatever!"

Pastor Rick Warren's The Purpose Driven Life found a niche and remains popular precisely because people need guidance and direction. Without an inspired religion they first turn to entertainment which soon becomes a pursuit of intense, exciting distraction; and then lapse into depression, drug abuse, and suicide. To make matters worse, many call their lack of purpose freedom; and refuse to commit themselves to any purpose. 

After their encounter with the Stranger the disciples immediately return to Jerusalem in haste as Mary had gone up to Jerusalem in haste after the Annunciation. They returned with a very clear purpose, to recount 

"what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread.

That evening the Lord appeared to the whole group and described their new purpose in life:

"...you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth.”

Jesus's resurrection appearances are, in fact, commissions. He didn't return from the dead to regale them with stories about his journey into hell, nor even to inform them there is an afterlife. 

Forty days later, when he was taken from their sight, they seemed to lose their purpose for a moment. They hesitated in confusion until two angels laughed at them: 

"Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?"

And so they returned (another journey!) to the true pole of the earth, Jerusalem, to reorient themselves. There in the Cenacle, where they'd celebrated the First Mass, where they had hidden, and where they first saw the Risen Lord, they received guidance from the Holy Spirit. 

Our lives are oriented by our faith; our journeys have direction and purpose by the commission to preach the Gospel by word and deed and presence. 

Tuesday in the Octave of Easter

 Lectionary: 262

Jesus said to her, “Mary!”
She turned and said to him in Hebrew, “Rabbouni,”
which means Teacher.

I didn't plan to retire from the VA. I resolutely ignored the "planning one's retirement" emails that came several times a month. Frequently, it seemed, friends and acquaintances stopped me or came by my office to say goodbye. I wished them well. But I intended to stay so long as my health stood up. 

And then things changed and I began to grumble. My friars, friends, and family heard me but made nothing of it. I was waiting for things to get back to normal, or for a new normal to appear. Eventually, as my discomfort did not resolve, I would begin to ask in prayer, "How long, O Lord?" 

If I was serious about that question -- a question which infers some kind of time line -- I didn't want to think about it. It was just there, a moan, a complaint, a question. 

And then, last autumn, I heard, "Spring." 
"April?" I asked.
"March." 

One friend asked me if I could last that long, but I felt obligated by circumstances. I could not simply walk away from a serious responsibility. But neither could I imagine working there in April. That future had disappeared. 

Lazarus lay in the tomb for four days. He was well beyond complaining although his friends and family kept it up for him. But something in him remembered the words of Ezekiel, 

Look! I am going to open your graves; I will make you come up out of your graves, my people, and bring you back to the land of Israel. You shall know that I am the LORD, when I open your graves and make you come up out of them, my people! I will put my spirit in you that you may come to life, and I will settle you in your land. Then you shall know that I am the LORD. I have spoken; I will do it,

He also remembered the words of Jesus: 

Amen, amen, I say to you, the hour is coming and is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live.

So when the voice of Jesus sounded through the tomb and his decaying corpse, Lazarus knew he must obey. 

Mary of Magdala was standing outside the tomb of Jesus weeping when she heard the sound of his voice. Until that moment she might have wished she could be in the tomb with her Lord, like Aida with Radames. But someone, it seemed, had removed the corpse. 

And then she heard his voice. She knew his voice. It was reassuring, comforting, and commanding. Thrilled, elated, obedient, suddenly revived from a deathlike grief, she turned to the Lord and embraced him. 

God's people know his voice. It is both reassuring and commanding, as familiar as a mother's. It sounds through the core of one's being, and is more dear than I am to myself, 

We know the voice of God from our liturgical prayers with the Church, and from our private devotions. It sounds with the ever ancient timbre of the Bible, but comes to us as wisdom ever new. It is the voice of the shepherd who

"walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him, because they recognize his voice. But they will not follow a stranger; they will run away from him, because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.”

We can never hear enough of it and yet the Lord is not garrulous. His utterance is direct, brief, and magisterial. We must obey; we cannot imagine not obeying even when he commands us to 

"Stop holding on to me.... But go to my brothers and tell them, ‘I am going to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God."

Monday in the Octave of Easter

 Lectionary: 261

They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage. Then Jesus said to them, 
“Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.”

The Latin Mass ends when the priest turns to the congregation and says, "Ite, missa est." The word mass, meaning our ceremony, comes from that expression. Despite whatever they heard in the word missa, the priest intended to say, "Go, you are sent." 

The concluding incidents in the gospels have also been misread as appearances or apparitions, perhaps even as theophanies or epiphanies. A closer, more attentive reading shows they are commissions. In today's Gospel reading, the Lord sent -- commissioned -- the women to "Go tell my brothers." And they in turn should "go to Galilee."

People love a spectacle; they're very entertaining. What could be more spectacular and entertaining than Jesus's resurrection? I attended a concert of Jesus Christ Superstar when his appearance after his death ordeal was greeted with blinding lights. I'd seen nothing so brilliant since I stood on a railway late one night and watched an oncoming train. The orchestral sound was equally stunning. On stage stood an actor with arms outstretched and a triumphant, happy smile. He was visible by the light on him, but the headlights behind him made him almost too difficult to look at.

The crowd went wild. I went home. Fortunately it was Saturday evening and I found healing the next morning in a Catholic church and the quieter celebration of a Sunday Mass. 

In today's gospel the stunned soldiers, who had seen enough to know something unusual had happened, recovered their composure and reported to the chief priests. They might have been astonished by the angel, the empty tomb, and the apparent escape of a dead man, but not enough to overrule their orders from their authorities. They didn't go to the "brothers," nor were they told to. 

Lent, Holy Week, and the Triduum have prepared us to hear Jesus's command: 

"Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you. And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.”

We will do that not with stunning entertainment but with honest sharing of what we have seen and heard, our personal stories of grace.  

Easter Sunday The Resurrection of the Lord

 Lectionary: 42

Christ indeed from death is risen, our new life obtaining.
Have mercy, victor King, ever reigning! 
Amen. Alleluia.

Those who did not attend the Easter Vigil and Mass might notice today only a small difference from the Masses of every other Sunday. On this particular day the celebrant invites everyone to rise and respond in the affirmative to certain questions. 

1. Do you renounce Satan?
2. And all his works?
3. And all his empty show?
4. Do you believe in God the Father Almighty, creator of heaven and earth?
5. Do you believe in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was born of the Virgin Mary, suffered death and was buried, rose again from the dead and is seated at the right hand of God? 
6. Do you believe in the Holy Spirit, the holy Catholic Church, the communion of saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life everlasting? 

The congregation, standing, will answer, "I do!" to each question. 

The second three questions recall Jesus's final command as we hear in Saint Matthew's Gospel: 

Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit...

On Easter Sunday, using this abbreviated creed, we again swear that we believe in the Revelation of the Holy Trinity. We should recall how this mystery was first revealed over the course of many centuries. 

1. The Father spoke to Abraham and his descendants, beginning in the second millennium before Christ, approximately 1800 b.c.e. There followed a long, complex history with names like Moses, David, Bathsheba, Judith, Nehemiah, Ezra, and the family of the Maccabees. Abraham's descendants would be known as tribes, slaves, citizens, and finally as refugees, when they were dispersed throughout the world.   
2. Jesus, whom worship as the Son of God and Son of Mary, lived, died, and was raised up when Israel was subject to the Roman Empire. 
3. And shortly after Jesus's death, the Holy Spirit appeared in the enthusiasm, courage, and wisdom of his disciples. 

The documents of the New Testament, which were written between 60 a.d. and 125 a.d., implicitly recognize each person as God, although that doctrine was not defined until the fourth century. And yet the Church insist with our Jewish ancestors that God is one and there is no other. 

As important as this three-part history of revelation is, the history of our keeping the faith these many centuries is equally important. That is one story with many chapters! 

We believe as Jesus taught. Our faith is apostolic, meaning the Apostles believed and announced the same faith. The Church has never deviated from the faith. The Holy Spirit sees to that! The Gospel was never lost and forgotten and then mysteriously recovered by one of the Church's many reformers. No one discovered the DNA of this dinosaur and spawned a new monster out of it. Rather, the Church has continued throughout its long history to fly like a pterodactyl and to lumber like a brontosaurus. 

We are the people who knew the Lord from his birth of the Virgin until his ascension into heaven. We are the people who believe he resides with us, especially in the Blessed Sacrament. If I was not born yet when Jesus walked the earth, that is beside the point. I was baptized into this faithful communion, and I believe as we have always believed. 

I swear it again, under oath, on Easter Sunday, and I affirm it every Sunday, as we always have since that first evening when he appeared in the Upper Room. We have never missed a Sunday Mass; we have kept the faith. 

Saturday of Holy Week

Thus the heavens and the earth and all their array were completed.
On the seventh day God completed the work he had been doing; he rested on the seventh day from all the work he had undertaken.
God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work he had done in creation. Genesis 2:1-3

When he broke open the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven for about half an hour. And I saw that the seven angels who stood before God were given seven trumpets.

Revelation 8:1

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

   Lectionary 40

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, and with him two others, one on either side, with Jesus in the middle.

His daughters and several grandchildren had gathered at the bedside as the old man lay dying. They invited me, their pastor, to visit him with the final prayers: Viaticum and the Commendation of the Dying. Knowing several of the women I knew they would welcome further prayers and I led them in the recitation of the Rosary. 

Finishing the prayer, I blessed the gathering with the sign of the cross. The patient had moved little during the long prayers but as I finished he struggled to raise his hand and arm. Unable to do so, he pointed with the same hand at the nearest daughter. We were all confused for a moment until someone said, "He wants to make the sign of the cross!" 

The daughter jumped up and, holding his elbow and hand, assisted his final gesture. He passed into eternity a few hours later. 

No one loves the Lord who does not embrace his cross, taking it to themselves daily as a gesture of gratitude and devotion. It is a sign that is contradicted for this appalling form of execution was intended to humiliate and traumatize anyone who saw or heard of the killing. But from the Day of Pentecost, Christian missionaries happily -- gleefully! -- announced that the Crucified One had been raised up and was more alive than ever.

Many dismiss the news out of hand. It sounds like utter nonsense. And yet Jesus's disciples persist in announcing the Good News until it takes root and spreads to every nation on earth. Even its implausibility persuades the faithful that God's spirit impels its proclamation, and persuades the hesitant. Why would anyone believe this nonsense if they weren't deeply convinced of it? Millions refuse to accept scientific proofs, and yet they believe in the cross. 

Today we forgo the Mass to pay particular devotion to the cross. Men, women, children, and babies come forward in silence to touch, genuflect before, or kiss the cross. We can hardly express what it means but it touches each of us with a particular and commanding importance. We dare not ignore or forget the cross. It is the key, the gate, and the path to the Salvation of the whole world. 

Holy Thursday Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper

 Lectionary: 39

it shall be slaughtered during the evening twilight. They shall take some of its blood
and apply it to the two doorposts and the lintel of every house in which they partake of the lamb. That same night they shall eat its roasted flesh with unleavened bread and bitter herbs.

Men have been killing one another since the beginning. The devout cite the story of Cain and Abel; others point to history and the fossil record. Sometimes we commit murder with ceremony. It might be organized and orchestrated by government officials, military personnel, or religious authorities; it might be the bizarre antics of a madman. They're all pretty much the same, deliberate human sacrifice for a particular purpose.

The crucifixion of Jesus was a complicated ceremony meant to humiliate and terrify the people of Jerusalem. It should be a slow death to deepen its effect on the populace. They would feel helpless; the youngest might feel traumatized. The victim's family and friends would be ashamed of both their helplessness and the victim, one of their own. They would probably not speak to anyone of the killing, nor discuss it among themselves. His memory would be wiped out forever. Their solidarity as a family would be shattered by the silence, rendering them less resistant to Roman control. 

The singular difference with the death of Jesus was his own willingness to be the priest, altar, and lamb of sacrifice. His willingness rendered the incident neither killing nor a bizarre form of suicide. His disciples might not have understood the fine distinctions as the soldiers shoved them out of the way and rushed upon the Lord. They were bewildered and confused by his arrest, trial, and immediate execution. If they saw the crucifixion as a military or government ceremony, they could not see its religious significance until, in the light of Easter morning, they recalled his Last Supper. 

That too was a ceremony; he spoke of his body and blood and insisted that they consume the pascal bread and ceremonial wine as if they were his flesh and blood. They remembered his washing their feet -- a most unexpected and confounding gesture.

Finally, they saw his last pascal meal as the first part of one continuous ritual which began at sunset and ended at sunset. When they broke bread together, and shared the cup among them, in memory of him, they knew they were caught up in the rites of crucifixion. But it was no longer a horror; it was unspeakably beautiful. 

Without the Mass the crucifixion of Jesus is an empty gesture. It is the pointless death of another human victim, and his name is wiped out forever. With the Mass the devout accompany the Lord into the overwhelming presence of his God and Father. Eating his flesh and drinking his blood, we are his body as he offers himself in a sacrifice of atonement, gratitude, and praise. God is pleased with us because he is pleased with Jesus; he finds us worthy because he is worthy; we are rendered holy as God is  holy.