Saturday of the Fourth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 284

“If you know me, then you will also know my Father.
From now on you do know him and have seen him.”

Anyone who knows Jesus knows his Father. And every misconception we may have about God can be cleared up by the encounter with Mary's Son. Both the awful image of God as cruelly indifferent to human suffering and perhaps enjoying it; and the image of a doting, sugar daddy creator whose love is unconditional can be unlearned by the encounter with Jesus of Nazareth. 

And so Christians spend our lives getting to know the Lord. We continually ask him to speak to us and help us understand him more clearly. As the song from GodSpell went: "...to see thee more clearly, love thee more dearly, follow thee more nearly day by day."

Jesus of Nazareth, aka The Word Made Flesh. also teaches us what it means to be human, for without that we cannot know the God who created us in his own image and likeness. We meet our needs and frailty in him. No one can hang on a cross very long, but we can, like him, carry one for a considerable difference. If we cannot hide from the murderous wrath of an insanely jealous Herod, we might flee; and return when the danger has passed. If we cannot walk on water, we can take the hand of the man who does and walk with him. 

I think of our knowing the Father like this: We've all been in a room when Friend A spoke with Friend B over the telephone. We could not see that third party but we followed the conversation well enough. We could not hear the clever rejoinder when A said this; but we knew what B said when we saw A laughing, and we laughed with them. We might not know what the terrible news is but we know it's bad and we already feel the sorrow coming on. 

As we follow Jesus we get to know God his Father. The Son of Mary is so transparent in his devotion, spontaneity, generosity, courage, and willingness before his God that we must give his Father the same eager obedience. And the gods whom we formerly knew, we forget. They were no gods; we regret every moment we spent with them.  

As we follow the Lord, the day must come when, as David's ancestress Ruth said to Naomi, we say to Jesus,

Do not press me to go back and abandon you!
Wherever you go I will go,
wherever you lodge I will lodge.
Your people shall be my people
and your God, my God.
Where you die I will die,
and there be buried.
May the LORD do thus to me, and more, if even death separates me from you!”

Friday of the Fourth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 283

We ourselves are proclaiming this good news to you that what God promised our fathers he has brought to fulfillment for us, their children, by raising up Jesus, as it is written in the second psalm,
     You are my Son; this day I have begotten you.”

As the first disciples were caught up in the Spirit of Easter and Pentecost, they reread the Hebrew Scriptures and discovered prophecies about the Crucified and Risen Lord on every page. They especially knew Jesus as the fulfillment of God's word to Abraham. He is the beloved and only begotten son; the very one of whom the psalms and Isaiah spoke: "Before my birth the LORD called me, from my mother’s womb he gave me my name." 

There was no old testament god to be compared with a new testament god; they were one in the Father and his only begotten Son, Jesus Christ. That unfortunate myth about their differences persists among many Catholics and their priests. They ignore the Good Shepherd's sobering threats and stress the angry warnings of the Hebrew prophets. Their failure to remind the self-righteous, content, and powerful of God's demands must follow. They suppose the Lord who sacrificed his own Son is a sugar daddy, an unquestioning, unchallenging, harmless teddy bear. Their god cannot bring down the mighty or lift up the lowly. Their Christianity becomes one among many "comparative religions." That idol may soothe the anguish of some psychiatric ills but it does not address global poverty or waste.  

Saint Paul's invocation of Isaiah recalls the "royal" Psalm 2 in which we hear the prophet's promise to the king:

I myself have installed my king
on Zion, my holy mountain.
I will proclaim the decree of the LORD,
he said to me, “You are my son;
today I have begotten you.

The Jewish people never forgot the peaceful reign of King David; they clung to the belief that all nations would live securely and prosperously when the Lord restores the Shepherd King's once-and-future governance. If we cannot imagine such a world today, our imagination is stunted by the choking anxieties which bear no fruit.

The threats and the promises remain for those who have ears; and we do hear them in our hearts as we practice our faith and recite our daily prayers. And because we pray for it, that Day of Just Mercy will come. 

Feast of Saint Mark, evangelist

Lectionary: 555

Clothe yourselves with humility
in your dealings with one another, for:
God opposes the proud
but bestows favor on the humble.
So humble yourselves under the mighty hand of God,
that he may exalt you in due time.
Cast all your worries upon him because he cares for you.

Saint Mark didn't invent the expression "good news." That honor belongs to Isaiah the Prophet, who used it twice:

How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of the one bringing good news,
Announcing peace, bearing good news,
announcing salvation, saying to Zion,
“Your God is King! (Isaiah 52:7)

and

The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me,
because the LORD has anointed me;
He has sent me to bring good news to the afflicted,
to bind up the brokenhearted,
To proclaim liberty to the captives,
release to the prisoners... (Isaiah 61:1)

Saint Luke tells us that Jesus began his ministry with the expression as he cited the latter verse from Isaiah. 

However, we credit Saint Mark for creating the literary form we know as Gospel. Until then the message which the disciples of Jesus announced throughout the Roman empire -- a message which included stories of his life, death, and resurrection as well as accounts of his parables, healings, teachings, and wonderful deeds -- was called the good news. Or sometimes, the way. It was also a mission of announcing the name of Jesus far and wide, for by his name -- and no other -- we are saved. 

Today we use the word gospel for both purposes; it's a literary form and a message of salvation. It's wonderful in any case. 

Today's first reading from 1 Peter suggests that Saint Mark was a disciple of Peter. He was known to the Apostles Barnabas and Paul, though he remained with Barnabas when there was a falling out between those two great scholar/preachers. Apparently, they quarreled about him! And then he ended up with Peter. But the name Mark was not uncommon in the Roman Empire, and there might have been several Marks among the missionaries. This question no historian will ever settle, and is not terribly important. 

So we move on to celebrate the genius of "The Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God," which are the proper title and first words of this historic document. The book is a temple which we enter with profound reverence; it is an invitation and challenge to recognize the overwhelming mercy of God which penetrates, illuminates, and then annihilates the profound darkness of our sins. 

The Book includes us within the passion of Jesus by describing in no uncertain terms the weakness, confusion, and cowardice of the Lord's disciples. We find ourselves within the story. It's widely believed the Evangelist wrote himself into the story, despite his being too young to have been there, with two verses: 

Now a young man followed him wearing nothing but a linen cloth about his body. They seized him, but he left the cloth behind and ran off naked. (Mark 14:52)

Everyone who hears and reads this Gospel must admit they also would have fled, denied, or betrayed the Lord with a kiss; for without the Spirit which had not yet been given, no one could follow the Lord's bloody footprints to Calvary. As Saint John the Evangelist tells us:

[Jesus] said this in reference to the Spirit that those who came to believe in him were to receive. There was, of course, no Spirit yet, because Jesus had not yet been glorified. (John 7:39)

Not only does Mark describe the failure of our courage, he highlights it in yellow as he describes Peter's supercilious crowing, "Even though all should have their faith shaken, mine will not be.” (Mark 14:29)

This is us, people! It hurts, but it heals also. And for that the Church will always thank and celebrate Saint Mark the Evangelist. 

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 281

“Whoever believes in me believes not only in me
but also in the one who sent me,
and whoever sees me sees the one who sent me.
I came into the world as light,
so that everyone who believes in me might not remain in darkness.

With these words from Saint John's Gospel Jesus describes not only his mission, but the mission of every disciple. 

I discovered this as a chaplain in the VA hospital, where I served from 2007 to 2022. There had been dreadful stories about priests in the news media for over five years, and people asked me about them. But invariably I was greeted with reverence and respect by patients, their families, and the hospital personnel. Most of them had known a priest and their affection for him was immediately transferred to me. I had only to introduce my name. They knew what I represented. I am a sacrament. 

We believe in Jesus because we know the man. We have lived with him; we have listened to his words; we have often been relieved of our troubles, whether they were disturbed hearts, conflicted conscience, or bodily ills. We know the voice of the Good Shepherd. 

And knowing him, we know where he comes from and who sent him. We know his Father is compassionate and merciful and just; and we trust the Father of Jesus because he trusted his Father even as he died on a cross. 

In the same way, people who believe in us believe not only in us but also in the One who sent us. And its corollary follows: those whom we betray believe they have been betrayed by God. 

Like Jesus, we must have, and be known for, integrity. That is, "I am what I pretend to be." As a Franciscan and a priest, I have that obligation to myself, to my Church, and to our God. But I cannot be what anyone thinks I should be. That would be the worse pretense, for I know already that I am a sinful man. To pretend otherwise would be a sham, and easily recognized; that's called hypocrisy. And so I "own" my sins, frailty, cultural blindness, and ignorance without excuse or phony remorse; as I pray that I cause no one to sin. 

Saint Paul said of Jesus, he cannot deny himself. As the Son of God, commissioned to represent the mercy and justice of God, to serve rather than be served, he must refuse to turn stones into bread and to jump off the highest parapet of the temple. He literally could not do it, not because he was not God -- which he was! -- but because he was obedient. And as the image of God, he must surrender to God because God has surrendered everything to him. 

And so we are called to discover who we are, and who we must be in God's sight. We are called to integrity, to being what we pretend to be. 

Whoever believes in me believes not only in me
but also in the one who sent me,
and whoever sees me sees the one who sent me.

Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 280

My sheep hear my voice;
I know them, and they follow me.
I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish.
No one can take them out of my hand.
My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all,
and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand.
The Father and I are one.

The Church must always remember and celebrate the martyrs. They appear in every century for the age of martyrdom has never ended. Should the day come when no one is challenged to surrender their life for their faith in Jesus, we will know the Church has failed and the Spirit has left us. 

But that day will never come because "no one can take them out of my hand.... and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand." A simple Google search for Catholic martyrs of the 21st century offers proof of that. And that story is only a sequel to the witness of twenty preceding centuries. 

As those who share the faith of the martyrs and accompany their via crucis, we must pray that we will be found worthy as their companions. 

Our bonds begin in God the Father and his Beloved Son, who are one in mind, heart, and will. As Jesus says in today's gospel, "The Father and I are one."  That oneness is rock solid, it is the covenant the Lord makes with his holy people. 

The covenant of baptism which the Church makes with every believer, and the covenant of marriage reflect that oneness. A priest might be accused of always agreeing with whatever the Church says, or a man might be accused of agreeing with whatever his wife says, but the accusation misses the point. They are of one mind and one heart; their fidelity flows from their union. Given that the Latin word for heart is cor, we understand their agreement as accord -- one heart.

Another word for that agreement is integrity. Saint Paul says of the Lord's integrity: 

If we are unfaithful he remains faithful, for he cannot deny himself. (2 Tim:2:13)

Footnotes on the USCCB Bible site encourage meditation on the purity of heart that is typical of God and the Trinitarian mystery:

• Numbers 23:19 -- God is not a human being who speaks falsely, nor a mortal, who feels regret. Is God one to speak and not act, to decree and not bring it to pass?
• Romans 3:3-4 -- What if some were unfaithful? Will their infidelity nullify the fidelity of God? Of course not! God must be true, though every human being is a liar, as it is written: “That you may be justified in your words, and conquer when you are judged.”
• Titus 1:1-3 -- Paul, a slave of God and apostle of Jesus Christ for the sake of the faith of God’s chosen ones and the recognition of religious truth, in the hope of eternal life that God, who does not lie, promised before time began, who indeed at the proper time revealed his word in the proclamation with which I was entrusted by the command of God our savior...

Our life is built on the truth. Buildings, roads, bridges must be built with integrity. Automobiles, airplanes, boats: if machines are not built honestly they self-destruct. A nation cannot endure cheating; civilization is built on truth. 

During the worst of our human cycles, when even good people deceive to survive, martyrs speak the truth and lead us back to God. 

Monday of the Fourth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 279

Peter explained his decision to baptize gentiles to the Apostles and the brothers who were in Judea...

"If then God gave them the same gift he gave to us when we came to believe in the Lord Jesus Christ, who was I to be able to hinder God?"
When they heard this, they stopped objecting and glorified God, saying, "God has then granted life-giving repentance to the Gentiles too."

Pope Francis's famous remarks -- "Who am I to judge?" -- seems to echo Saint Peter's explanation to the Church in Jerusalem, "...who was I to be able to hinder God?" The first pope had done something in Joppa which seemed unimaginable to both Establishments in Jerusalem. The majority Jews and the minority Christians suddenly, unexpectedly agreed as they cried with one voice. "You did what?"

When the dust settled, their separate courses had become more obvious. If gentiles were reluctantly accepted by Jews after their circumcision, they were courted and welcomed into the Church through the less painful rite of Baptism. But the converts would also face the combined wrath of the Jewish synagogue and the Roman empire. 

Clearly, the converts of Joppa were not seeking social respectability as they listened to Peter's proclamation and received the Holy Spirit. They knew about the crucifixion of Jesus, the stoning of Stephen, and the execution of James. Nor did they intend to retain their former, pagan practices. Rebirth in the Lord meant a total overhaul of their way of life. They studied and accepted the moral code and sexual standards of the Jewish religion.  

The Lord's parables of the wheat and the wheat, and the sorting of fish, testify to the dilemma the Church addressed as the sincerity and enthusiasm of new converts failed. Anyone who joins the Church looking for social respectability must soon be disappointed. God's chosen people must be pariahs in a world which is hostile to God. 

The parables also assure us that thorny issues will be sorted out. On That Day of Judgment the faithful will be proven by their choice of Life over liberal and conservative cultures of death. 

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Lectionary: 50

I am the good shepherd,
and I know mine and mine know me,
just as the Father knows me and I know the Father;
and I will lay down my life for the sheep.
I have other sheep that do not belong to this fold.
These also I must lead, and they will hear my voice,
and there will be one flock, one shepherd.

The familiar hymn, Christ beside me; Christ within me, is a musical version of Saint Patrick's Lorica, the Deer's Cry. It's said that the Saint with his troupe of missionaries was travelling through a dense forest. He knew there was a hostile force nearby, waiting to attack and kill them. And so he composed and taught the monks this prayer and they sang it together. The enemy saw and heard only a passing rangale of deer. 

The prayer begins,  "I arise today / through a mighty strength, the invocation of the Trinity..."  Like many of the psalms, it's a personal prayer. An individual stands before God helpless, alone, and needy; and prays for help. A petitioner before the Almighty cannot pretend to be powerful, righteous, or worthy. We have no claim on God except the name of Jesus; or, as Patrick says, the name of the Trinity. 

A Christian knows the mystery of the Trinity, "a mystery hidden from ages and from generations past, but now manifested to his holy ones." Like the mysterious deer, this enigma stands in plain sight of the enemy and yet they cannot perceive it. But it is lorica to the faithful individual, "a shell-like protective outer covering," or "a Roman corselet or cuirass of leather." 

As I have recited this prayer each morning for many years, I feel the reassuring presence of our Good Shepherd. He is "my strength, the LORD, my rock, my fortress, my deliverer, my God, my rock of refuge, my shield, my saving horn my stronghold!" Psalm 18

I suppose anyone who greatly admires a leader believes that individual would enjoy their company. Many people felt they could sit down and drink a beer with George W Bush, rather than his opponent Al Gore in  2000. If he actually won that election, it was in part for his folksy manner. He cultivated that appearance despite his prolific reading and his predilection for Catholic advisors. In 2024, many people feel an intense bond of affection for Donald Trump despite his fabled wealth and notorious contempt for advisors. He has only to repeat whatever falsehoods his admirers believe to win their undying loyalty. 

The Christian feels that reassurance in the presence of our Good Shepherd. We know the Lord is with us even before we respond, "...and with your spirit." We see his companionship in Bethlehem's manger, on Calvary's cross, and the road to Emmaus. Hearing the Gospel, we sign ourselves with a cross on the forehead, the lips, and the heart. We pray to be always aware of his care and concern for us. When that day comes -- that dies irae, dies illa -- we'll know his call to "Come out!" and like Lazarus we'll come dancing. 

The Good Shepherd accompanies and reassures us as we navigate the wilderness of this 21st century. If the "apocalypse" happens when we no longer recognize the world as familiar, we live in a post-apocalyptic age not unlike that of Moses and his tribes in the Sinai wilderness. 

The LORD answered: I myself will go along, to give you rest. Moses replied, “If you are not going yourself, do not make us go up from here. For how can it be known that I and your people have found favor with you, except by your going with us? Then we, your people and I, will be singled out from every other people on the surface of the earth.” The LORD said to Moses: This request, too, which you have made, I will carry out, because you have found favor with me and you are my intimate friend. (Exodus 33:14-17)

Jesus knows our distress for he has passed out of this Egypt through the harrowing Red Sea into the Promised Land. But he has not left us behind for he who knows the way is the Way. He is the Truth and foundation of our Life. Standing far taller than his sheep, with an endless view of the future and a serene understanding of our past, the Shepherd leads us in the most direct route to the meadows of our true homeland. 

Saturday of the Third Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 278

It is the Spirit that gives life, while the flesh is of no avail.
The words I have spoken to you are Spirit and life.
But there are some of you who do not believe."

The Lord Jesus and the Holy Spirit are sometimes described as God's right and left hands. He plunges both into the filthy cauldron of human affairs and begins the delightful, demanding work of healing, cleansing, and sanctifying us. As we can see by the Scriptures, God does not abandon us to our misguided thinking. Long before anyone is born he is deeply engaged in our world. 

Today's account from the Acts of the Apostles describes the miraculous healings that were typical of that apostolic age. They are not unheard of today although the sciences are skeptical and the Church handles them carefully. Nearly every Christian has one or more stories to tell of the Lord's intervention. They might not be as spectacular as healing the paralyzed and reviving the dead but many of us have been healed when we were paralyzed by resentment and prostrate with remorse. 

If we take delight in the natural wonder of our human bodies, and are amused by our failings, we take greater pleasure in the Spirit who gives life. While we must care for our bodies, in obedience to our Lord, we also cultivate his Spirit. Like Saint Luke, we seek and find moments when God's presence appears; we wait for, and then act upon, the impulses that come with the spiritual life. Opportunities for generosity, hospitality, and mercy are so abundant we might be like kids in a candy shop, wanting to grab everything. But the Spirit who is wise also counsels us to take some and leave the rest for others. 

We do not live in the Garden of Eden but we enjoy the Spirit and the Life the Lord has given us; and we cultivate an Eden in our hearts where he rests with his Beloved, even as he did with Adam and Eve in the cool of the evening. 

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. 

 

Friday of the Second Week of Easter

Lectionary: 271

When they had had their fill, he said to his disciples,
"Gather the fragments left over,
so that nothing will be wasted."
So they collected them,
and filled twelve wicker baskets with fragments
from the five barley loaves that had been more than they could eat.

Working as a teen in my uncle's piping and plumbing shop, I learned something about America's valuation of time. It's expensive. And material things are cheap. It was often more efficient to throw something away than to repair and reuse it. There is a mile-long supply chain of identical items ready to replace anything. 

But time is valuable and there is never enough of it. Eventually, as I was plunged into ministering to a demanding church, I found that I had more money than time. I was about to swipe my credit card through a machine one day, to pump air in my tires, when an old fellow happened to walk by. He said, "There's free air right across the street!" I said, "Thanks, but I haven't the time." 

Recently, in conversation with a friend, we both admitted that a week ago seems like last year. There's so little time to pause and reflect on what just happened. As a chaplain in the hospital, I often met people with whom I'd met just last week. It would take a while to remember the face and the conversation. 

Jesus counseled his disciples in today's gospel, "Gather the fragments left over, so that nothing will be wasted." 

The Church, with its daily, weekly, and annual cycles of prayer, offers opportunities to remember, revalue, and cherish our lives. Where was I last Easter? Was I in a good place? The Sacrament of Penance especially urges us to recollect. We repent of past sins, especially those we'd sooner forget; and we thank God for reminding us of debts unpaid, injuries unhealed, and atonement which must be made. We also thank God for his wonderful works that have already righted wrongs and turned trauma to freedom from fear. 

The faith that celebrates the wonderful works of God gathers the fragments of our lives and sees them in the light of Easter. Wonder-struck by what the Lord has done for us, we appreciate all the more the marvelous deeds of the One who is present for every person. We gather the human fragments because everyone's life is wonderful; none should be wasted. 

In his encyclical, Laudato Si, Pope Francis has shown us how the waste of the Earth's environment is the waste of human life. Both come from our greed, fear, and mistrust. When we trash forests, deserts, and oceans we waste the humans who live in those places. 

Exploitation cries in alarm, "We haven't the time! It's not cost efficient. Until recycling is done on a massive scale we can't afford it! It's just not realistic." 

But there are fewer fragments when we purchase less and waste less; and when we stop to gather the moments of our life and remember how brief,  precious, and irreplaceable they are. 

Today's gospel began with Jesus's concern for the people who had come to the wilderness to hear his teaching. They risked much to be with him; he could not abandon them to their own scanty reserves of trust and generosity. Rather, he dug into his faith, thanked God for what he had, and shared it with everyone. 

There is still more than enough to go around when we're willing to share.

Memorial of Saint Stanislaus, Bishop and Martyr

Lectionary: 270

The one who comes from above is above all. The one who is of the earth is earthly and speaks of earthly things.

Recently there has been a spate of videos, TV shows, commercials, and movies about zombies. They are supposed to be dead but alive bodies, mysteriously possessed by demons which propel them to threaten and harm the living. However, they're remorselessly assaulted, shot, stabbed, and dismembered by their intended victims. And the public is entertained by this schlock.  

It would be easy enough to suppose zombies are Hollywood's version of nonconformists, disabled persons, drug addicts, and people on the autism spectrum. "Normal people" can entertain themselves with such fantasies. But they might include those who have died and now live in the Lord. Certainly our kinship with the despised must be obvious for we embrace them as our own.

Christians are mysteriously removed from the norms and standards of this world. We have died and are now resurrected; we can certify that God is trustworthy. We know whereof we speak. Dead-among-the-living souls speak the word of God, for we have, like Lazarus, heard from our tombs his call to come out and live. 

To those who did accept him he gave power to become children of God, to those who believe in his name, who were born not by natural generation nor by human choice nor by a man’s decision but of God. (John 1:12)