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.