Tuesday of Fifth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 286

And now I have told you this before it happens,
so that when it happens you may believe.
I will no longer speak much with you,
for the ruler of the world is coming.
He has no power over me,
but the world must know that I love the Father
and that I do just as the Father has commanded me.

When the Lord tells us that "the ruler of the world is coming" who has "no power over me," I suppose we should say, "Well, get on it. Make sure he doesn't come! You are the Savior, after all. This is your moment!" 

And it was his moment; there was no doubt about that as he said, "Now the hour has come!" And it's true that the "ruler" had no power over him. 

But he did not prevent his coming. Jesus predicted his coming "so that when it happens you may believe." He would neither prevent that hour from coming, nor obstruct the ruler's intention to kill him. That evil had to run its course. 

And, more importantly, these words prepared us to see, "that I love the Father and that I do just as the Father has commanded me." 

There is no power in heaven or earth more powerful than the Lord's obedience to his Father. Nothing can move, shake, or alter that. Nothing can come between them. Saint Paul spoke of that mystery from his own experience of hardship: 

...in all these things we conquer overwhelmingly through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor present things, nor future things, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8:37)

The Lord's obedience to the All-Powerful God is his absolute power and authority over all creation; he receives it from his Father, and we have seen his glory. The will of the Father and the Son are identical; it is one. And so authority becomes obedience and obedience becomes authority. 

Someone might suppose that Jesus's obedience means he is less than God. Some Christians believe he is a demigod, without using the word. The Church recognized and condemned that heresy at Ephesus in 325 AD. It corresponds neither to the Scriptures, our liturgy, our beliefs, nor our experience of him. It makes sense only to those who try to explain mysteries beyond human language. 

More importantly, as we hear Jesus speak to us, we can rest assured that this man, this Son of David and Son of Mary, has by his death and resurrection reestablished the Kingdom of God. And, as Julian of Norwich said, "All things will be well, and all things will be well, and all manner of things will be well." 

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

Lectionary: 285

Master, then what happened that you will reveal yourself to us
and not to the world?"
Jesus answered and said to him,
"Whoever loves me will keep my word,
and my Father will love him,
and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him.
Whoever does not love me does not keep my words;
yet the word you hear is not mine
but that of the Father who sent me.

If I didn't believe the Scriptures are the Word of God, I might regard the disciple's question as more serious than the Lord's answer. The question is very real, a continual dilemma for Jews and Christians alike: Why are we blessed and not them? The response, which comes as two verses in the form of a "negative-positive restatement," is like that of John 3:16-17. It is as serious as the question but it doesn't seem to answer it. 

Why aren't all people saved? If the Gospel is not in fact announced to every creature as the Lord commanded, if it is so obscured by Christian treachery that its hearers are more scandalized than edified, then isn't it grossly unfair that the unevangelized and unchurched must go to Hell. What about those people who were born before Jesus? And unbaptized babies? And the insane who are driven by demons and cannot know the Lord? 

The questions are endless and disheartening. I recently finished another novel by Cormac McCarthy whose novels explore the despair of those who live beyond the pale of the gospel. His intense dedication to his craft seems the only hope he knew. But art as a religion seems no more satisfying than Epicureanism, entertainment, or the pursuit of wealth. If our hearts are restless until they rest in God, must God stay so far away? 

Do we dare to esteem our privileges of faith and hope in such darkness? Is faith only another illusion, and religion an elaborate denial of the Void which hangs over our heads and looms under our feet? Will there be a Day of Judgment, or only the dying whimper of the last survivor? 

In the wake of two world wars and under the threat of a third and final war, Christians can no longer dismiss the question. Those who raise it are not evil. 

Jesus's reply: "Whoever loves me will keep my word, and my Father will love him, and we will come to him and make our dwelling with him." remains to the faithful as a promise but it does not answer the problem of evil. 

That can only be found on Calvary. It is found only by those who take up their appointed crosses and follow him to Calvary. 

The question appears in another form in the twenty first chapter of John. Jesus has again commanded Saint Peter to feed my sheep. But rather than an obedient, ready response the disciple asks a question, "What about him?" He is pointing to the Beloved Disciple. He seems to expect an answer. 

The Crucified and Risen Lord replies, “What if I want him to remain until I come? What concern is it of yours? You follow me.”

The Lord's words deserve much thought. First, we hear his authority, "What if I want him to remain...?" He remains as Lord, Savior, and Master of his disciples. No one replaces Jesus; no one equals him; no one may demand an answer from him. 

Secondly, Peter is reminded of his relative authority with the severe words, "What concern is it of yours? You follow me!" 
You will always follow me. I will never be far away. Should I choose to be silent you will wait in silence. 

The Lord's disciple cannot answer the problem of evil except with our lives. Under the threats of nuclear war; climate collapse; and warring, equally unjust economic systems, we must feed his sheep. They are still without a shepherd until we prove by our lives our faith in the One Shepherd. 

Fifth Sunday of Easter

Lectionary: 53

Children, let us love not in word or speech
but in deed and truth.
Now this is how we shall know that we belong to the truth
and reassure our hearts before him
in whatever our hearts condemn,
for God is greater than our hearts and knows everything.
Beloved, if our hearts do not condemn us....

In the First Letter of Saint John, which was apparently written to clear up some misunderstandings about his Gospel, the Evangelist speaks of the truth which reassures our hearts. Apparently, Catholic guilt ain't just a thin layer of gold on a chalice; it's been with us since the beginning. It's an anxiety that will remain until....

When we come to the Lord we invariably bring a lot of baggage with us, including many misunderstandings of what it means to be good, holy, or prayerful. Failing to immediately attain the unreasonable standards which the world expects of the ideal man or woman, we become very anxious. As the wise man said, "Being in love is happiest ten minutes of your life." When the ten minutes are up, some people strangle on the vine. Or, to use another metaphor, they have no roots and wither in the heat. 

I find it helpful to remember there is no such thing as an ideal human being. God never made one. Ideal is a standard by which things are measured. Most things are good enough; some are better. None are ideal, for an ideal is an idea which is supposed to last forever. It is permanent, stable, solid, and unalterable. Which resembles no one and no thing I've ever met.  

But, like every living creature, humans are made of dirt. "From dust ye were made and to dust ye shall return!" I was not promising material to start with. 

Add to that the thousand natural shocks which flesh is heir to, and you come up with a package of damaged goods. Here I am. When the bishop called my name in 1975, I stood up and said, "Here!" I had no idea how damaged I already was, but let me tell you the Priest guilt was thicker than gilt. It might be polished to a shine but it's only a sheen, with as many tears and rips as a teenager's stressed jeans. 

But I had many things going for me. First was the support of friars, friends, family, and Church who uniformly forgave my most obvious sins and ignored the lesser ones. Secondly, the discipline of daily prayer which I vowed as a Franciscan and as a priest. I think especially of the psalms. 

The psalms, which are the foundation of our Divine Office, ("Liturgy of the Hours") are corporate prayers, in the sense that anyone who reads them prays in the name of the whole Church. But they're also very personal; nearly all of them reflect the lament of the lonely individual. This lonely person prays to be delivered from their enemies, who are many.  

They attacked me on my day of distress,
but the LORD was my support.
He set me free in the open;
he rescued me because he loves me. Psalm 18: 19-20

Traditionally, Catholics understand the psalms as the personal prayer of Jesus; and we read his cry of distress as our own. Today's Responsorial Psalm 22 recounts in vivid detail all the trouble the Lord endured to save us from our enemies, and then concludes with:

I will fulfill my vows before those who fear the LORD.
The lowly shall eat their fill;
they who seek the LORD shall praise him:
"May your hearts live forever!"
I will praise you, Lord, in the assembly of your people.

I think also of Psalm 139

LORD, you have probed me, you know me:
you know when I sit and stand;
you understand my thoughts from afar.
You sift through my travels and my rest,
with all my ways you are familiar. 

But our anxieties don't go away. Like the furies who punished Orestes (Sartre called them Flies, in his play of the same name), they persist through life until death do us part. Through the practice of prayer, the Sacrament of Penance, much counseling (medically assisted), and many years, I began to hear the Voice of God over the drone of the flies, gnats, wasps, and hornets of my troubled conscience. 

And, as Saint John says, we reassure one another as a Church, "not in word or speech but in deed and truth." 

When "I get IT" I finally realize IT's not me; IT is God who says, 

...my thoughts are not your thoughts,
nor are your ways my ways,
For as the heavens are higher than the earth,
so are my ways higher than your ways,
and my thoughts higher than your thoughts. Isaiah 55:8

And as Ezekiel thundered

Not for your sake do I act, house of Israel, but for the sake of my holy name, which you desecrated among the nations to which you came. But I will show the holiness of my great name, desecrated among the nations, in whose midst you desecrated it. Then the nations shall know that I am the LORD when through you I show my holiness before their very eyes. Ez 36:21

As the lady said, "Build a bridge and get over yourself!"  Building that bridge to the Lord takes a long time. As Rabbi Heschel said, 

"Not the individual man nor a single generation by its own power can erect the bridge that leads to God. Faith is the achievement of ages, an effort accumulated over centuries."

Upon entering the Church -- or stepping into a basilica, cathedral, church, or chapel -- we abandon the self. A culture of death and individualism howls in protest. (Let the nations rage!) We enter the silence and learn to ignore to our thoughts. (For you are not ready for thought.") 

What does it matter what I think? Am I anxious? What does it matter that I am anxious? I belong to the Lord; my fate is in his hands and he is worthy of my trust. And if he is not? I guess it doesn't matter. I will trust in the Lord, like Joshua upon entering the Promised Land: 

As for me and my household, we will serve the Lord

Amen

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.