Tuesday, April 30, 2019

Tuesday of the Second Week of Easter


Lectionary: 268

The community of believers was of one heart and mind, and no one claimed that any of his possessions was his own, but they had everything in common.


Biblical scholars generally agree that Saint Luke paints a rosy picture of life around Jesus and in his early Church. The Evangelist acknowledges but minimizes some of the negatives. So we can accept with a scriptural grain of salt his memory of the believers being "of one heart and mind." There was a honeymoon for the early church and it was wonderful while it lasted but, like all honeymoons, it might not bear close inspection.
Nevertheless this passage has provided inspiration for many startup experiments in gospel living. Inspired and enthused by a particular vision, enchanted by the personal charisma of a visionary, men and women have thrown themselves into Utopian societies of every sort. In the earliest days of the church, these communities were the functioning dioceses of the far-flung Roman empire. Later hermits would come together in mutual support to build monasteries. 
Saints Francis and Dominic founded their idealistic societies when the mendicant movement swept the church. Later, when the Fourth Lateran Council decreed there should be no more "orders" in the church, societies and congregations sprang up -- frustrating the spirit if not the letter of the law. The Society of Jesus (Jesuits) and the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer (Redemptorists), for instance, responded to the particular needs of the sixteenth and nineteenth centuries, respectively. 
Always we hope that we might live as a community of believers, of one heart and mind, sharing our possessions as readily as we share our beliefs. 
American Protestant history is also marked by Utopian societies. (Some of them practiced celibacy as well as common ownership.) They have left their historical markers in many parts of the country. 
Nor should we forget the hope of every man and woman who approach the altar to create a new family in the image and likeness of God. Marriage, that great mystery, is an icon of the covenant of God and his Church. 
Always, of course, these experiments in gospel living meet disappointment and frustration. The dreamers could not imagine the difficulty, complexity and misunderstandings of ordinary speech; nor the challenge of agreeing on anything. Jesus had promised wherever two or more agree and pray together their wish would be granted but it's not as easy as it sounds. 
Even an outstanding saint like Francis of Assisi -- claimed by Franciscans as the most-Christlike of all saints -- could not describe his vision persuasively enough to convince his disciples to live as he did. 
But the Spirit of God does not give up and Saint Luke's rosy portrait of early Christian community will always inspire new generations of Christians to give it a go. With God all things are possible. And most of those who set out on that path, as they near the end, will confess, they succeeded beyond their dreams. 

Monday, April 29, 2019

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


There was a Pharisee named Nicodemus, a ruler of the Jews.
He came to Jesus at night and said to him, "Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God,
for no one can do these signs that you are doing unless God is with him."


In his books about Jesus Pope Benedict XVI urged scholars to take the stories of Saint John's Gospel more literally. They were inclined to believe these conversations were composed a half-century after Jesus death and resurrection. They accepted their inspiration and placement in our canonical scriptures but thought the teachings too sophisticated and precise to be the memories of a long-ago conversation.
Pope Benedict thought otherwise. The Jewish scholars of the city might have met often with Jesus during his stay there, in the manner of Nicodemus's conversation. Late at night, meeting in the steady light of oil lamps, they came singly and in small numbers to question, listen and discus the ancient mysteries with the Galilean. His disciples -- fishermen and tax collectors -- might have listened to their discussions and disputes but were hardly competent to say anything. They would have seen the serene confidence of Jesus, his humility and authority among the teachers of Israel. Pope Benedict argues that the elders of Jerusalem, now amid his Church, might have remembered very accurately the sayings, teachings and presence of Jesus a half-century later.
Among Jesus' contemporaries was Nicodemus. Well educated in the best Jewish traditions, open-minded, independent, articulate, and wise: he would listen to Jesus but was not willing to surrender his position in the Sanhedrin to align with him. Perhaps, during the time frame of this third chapter, it didn't seem necessary. The controversy was not yet a crisis. There were some still willing to discuss, argue and dispute in the Jewish fashion.
Nicodemus would reappear twice in John's Gospel. By the seventh chapter the mood of controversy had turned suspicious and bitter. But the reasonable man could still remind the Sanhedrin, "Our law does not judge people without first giving them a hearing to find out what they are doing." But they would only mock his law-abiding scrupulosity, "Surely you are not also from Galilee, are you? Search and you will see that no prophet is to arise from Galilee." (You can search the scriptures for a verse that does not exist, but why?) 
It's easy to recognize his predicament today. Conservative voices are openly mocked in liberal schools; liberal voices are hissed to silence in churches. Those who might want to engage in honest discussion of ideas and listen to all sides of a dispute must meet quietly, under cover of darkness.
Nicodemus appears a third time after the crisis has passed. Like Jesus' disciples and family, he has survived the madness that came over the city. Only one man died. With Joseph of Arimathea, Nicodemus will collect the body and have it given a proper burial. In fact, with "a mixture of myrrh and aloes weighing about one hundred pounds," it's a lavish funeral, although but few attend.
Nicodemus was not the same man who had visited Jesus in the night. He now acted in open defiance of the Sanhedrin. We can suppose that some of his former colleagues despised and shunned him. But they suffered shame for taking part in a midnight kangaroo court although they had the authority and legal procedures to accomplish the same thing in a proper and timely fashion. They could not explain what demonic spirit had taken possession of them. Nicodemus was no longer among them. He had performed a corporal work of mercy and vindicated himself. 
Easter 2019 is eight days passed now and the world seems unchanged to many. But we have been changed. We baptized a new group of catechumens; they rejoice to share our spirit. The church and the world are new again.

Sunday, April 28, 2019

Sunday of Divine Mercy


Do not be afraid.
I am the first and the last, the one who lives.
Once I was dead, but now I am alive forever and ever.
I hold the keys to death and the netherworld.


Easter celebrates the mercy of God revealed, especially in the reprieve, vindication, and glorification of a carpenter’s son. This man of no particular family; without patrons, sponsors, or mentors; owning nothing worth boasting about; defenseless, unarmed, abandoned by family, friends and disciples; who was savagely executed for no reason anyone can remember except that he bothered the authorities -- has been raised up and revealed as the Only Begotten Son of God.
The celebration of Mercy Sunday begins with rejoicing in the mercy God has shown to Jesus. Of the billions of human beings who have ever lived, this man most deserved to be shown mercy – for the good he did and for who he was.
But when he died we had no reason to believe that would happen. The time for mercy, we thought, had passed. Nor could we expect history to be  kind to this nonentity. He was just another victim of the powerful and self-righteous. He would be removed from the cross, buried, and forgotten. If anything, his death proved that mercy and justice are illusions. Fabrications to help us sleep at night. The only reality is power and power will always win in the end.
But Easter proved us wrong. Easter showed us that power is the illusion. It evaporates like the morning dew; melts like a snowman in spring. Whether it is political, military or financial; religious, social or intellectual; power must bow down before Justice. It must finally accept the government of Mercy.

Secondly, on this Mercy Sunday, we celebrate the kindness of God to us. He has raised up Jesus and restored him to us despite our treatment of him. He was murdered by a conspiracy of Roman military authorities, Jewish religious authorities, citizens of Jerusalem and the Apostle Judas Iscariot, with the tacit consent of his family and disciples. The Father certainly "owed" Jesus vindication, victory and glory -- but he owed us nothing. As Saint James said, "...judgment is merciless to one who has not shown mercy."
Nevertheless, God's original intent could not be frustrated. He sent his Son to save us and his Son poured out his life -- spirit, blood and water -- in that supreme work of mercy. As deep as our sins are, God's mercy is infinitely deeper.

Finally, on this Mercy Sunday, we celebrate the mercy we show to others -- especially to the despised unborn, aliens, criminals, addicts, Muslims, Jews and others minorities. The Passion, Death and Resurrection has shown us the rightness of being merciful to others. We cannot do less. We must go the extra mile for others since the Lord has gone an infinite distance with us.

Saturday, April 27, 2019

Saturday in the Octave of Easter


What are we to do with these men?
Everyone living in Jerusalem knows that a remarkable sign
was done through them, and we cannot deny it.
But so that it may not be spread any further among the people,
let us give them a stern warning
never again to speak to anyone in this name."

The fuming and fussing of the Sanhedrin in today's first reading borders on the comical, and especially their decision to give the disciples "a stern warning." Today's word for that might be unacceptable. "This behavior is unacceptable!" Somehow their stern warning will stifle any and all further remarks about Jesus? The Galilean's former disciples will just go back to wherever they came from and resume whatever they were doing?
As if he never were. As if God had not planned this since the beginning. As if Jerusalem had never been God's Holy City where the Almighty lived -- and died -- among the Earth's inhabitants. They would put the toothpaste back in the tube and the genie back in the bottle. They would say what happened never happened, that history can be ignored. Because the Sanhedrin found God's intentions unsettling Peter and John should be silent.
We know what happened. We can't help but laugh at the pathetic men who tried to put an end to Jesus.
Faith teaches us to trust the Holy Spirit as we look to the future. God's plans are being worked out in the present moment as it unfolds. The past cannot be  recreated, past actions cannot be reenacted; past institutions cannot be restored. Remakes of old movies are new movies; their stories may be the same but their new context is only similar to the past.
Faith teaches us respect for the precious opportunities of every moment and to be aware of what we say and do. An insult cannot be unspoken or an accident undone.
Faith teaches us that God walks with us in every moment. We have only to hear his word, obey his spirit, catch his drift and go with his direction. Faith teaches us to act without fear. The pathetic men of the Sanhedrin act stupidly because they act out of fear. The Holy Spirit will sweep them aside as the Word of God advances to the ends of Earth.

Friday, April 26, 2019

Friday in the Octave of Easter


Together were Simon Peter, Thomas called Didymus,
Nathanael from Cana in Galilee,
Zebedee's sons, and two others of his disciples.
Simon Peter said to them, "I am going fishing."
They said to him, "We also will come with you."
So they went out and got into the boat,
but that night they caught nothing.

Twice during the last few years, as I reflected on the readings of this Easter Friday, I have recalled Samuel Becket's Waiting for Godot, a 1950's era theater of the absurd. The two principle characters have nothing to do and no place to go and are monumentally bored. They seem to be trapped in a bleak landscape, in an endless stasis where nothing happens and nothing can or should happen. They have only to wait for a mysterious person who might offer them a job; but the audience suspects from the outset that "Godot" will never come and might not exist.
In today's gospel Jesus' disciples seem caught in the same vacuous space.
"I'm going fishing." says Peter, for no particular reason.
"We'll come with you!" say the others. (It will pass the time.)
But, predictably, they catch nothing until a stranger unexpectedly appears and asks, "Have you caught anything?" (I used to fish as a kid and passers-by always ask if you caught anything.)
I took my mother to see Waiting for Godot when she visited me in Louisiana. The play was put on by collegians, several generations younger than the playwright and first actors. Their timing was awful and the casting confusing but I was moved to tears nonetheless. Mom, on the other hand, came out complaining, "That was the dumbest thing I've ever seen!" Growing up during the Great Depression, the Second World War and the recurring recessions of the fifties and sixties, a practicing Catholic, married only once, she had never known the pointless existence of Didi and Gogo.
Because Saint John says nothing about the incident at Pentecost in Jerusalem, we cannot date this fishing expedition. Was it soon after that fateful Passover, a few weeks later, or several years. Perhaps the disciples, now retired, had gathered to reminisce about their adventures with Jesus. But they lack spirit. They are killing time and achieving nothing. It seems the Gospel endeavor has run its course --  until the Lord appears.
This addendum to the Fourth Gospel reminds us that, though the Lord has died and disappeared, we still need his daily encouragement and guidance. And he remains with us. We cannot enjoy a sense of purpose, develop useful plans or generate energy without his feeding us daily.

Thursday, April 25, 2019

Thursday in the Octave of Easter

"For you first, God raised up his servant and sent him to bless you
by turning each of you from your evil ways.”


In today's first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Saint Peter speaks compassionately and directly to the startled citizens of Jerusalem. He connects the dots between several recent, apparently disparate incidents beginning with the healing of this crippled man and working backwards to the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus and further back to their religious traditions. He not only creates a narrative from stories they have heard, he shows them their part in it with very stern words,
The God of Abraham, the God of Isaac, and the God of Jacob,
the God of our fathers, has glorified his servant Jesus,
whom you handed over and denied in Pilate’s presence,
when he [Pilate] had decided to release him.
You denied the Holy and Righteous One
and asked that a murderer be released to you.
The author of life you put to death,
but God raised him from the dead; of this we are witnesses.

Despite his proclamation of their guilt, Peter announces Good News to the City in the spirit of Bethlehem's angels,
"...for behold, I proclaim to you good news of great joy that will be for all the people."
As a result of his proclamation, the Christian community burgeoned to "five thousand men."

Christian preachers don't always meet that friendly reception when they name sins from the pulpit. Abortion, suicide, drug abuse, adultery, hostility toward immigrants, inordinate attachment to guns, pets, alcohol or shopping: these topics often meet resistance. Many people cannot imagine life without their accessories. Questioning these attachments doesn't sound like an invitation to freedom but an unacceptable condemnation. More than once I have been called aside by an upset parishioner, or received anonymous rebukes in the mail for such remarks.
As this story in the Acts of the Apostles continues beyond today's reading, however, we learn that Jerusalem was not entirely ready for conversion. The authorities arrived, keepers of the status quo:
While they were still speaking to the people, the priests, the captain of the temple guard, and the Sadducees confronted them, disturbed that they were teaching the people and proclaiming in Jesus the resurrection of the dead. They laid hands on them and put them in custody until the next day, since it was already evening.
Christians often like to recite a wise witticism, "The gospel comforts the afflicted and afflicts the comfortable." The same witty Christians are eager to be comforted as they consider themselves afflicted by all their worries and concerns.
But the Gospel, more often, invites us to recognize and take responsibility for our sins. With the people of Jerusalem we can say, "We have sinned like our ancestors; we have done wrong and are guilty."

Wednesday, April 24, 2019

Wednesday in the Octave of Easter

Lectionary: 263

How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!
Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things
and enter into his glory?”



Today's gospel "belongs" to the catechist, one who teaches believers what they believe. They have heard the proclamation. They have found faith in the Lord Jesus. But they have not yet found their place within the great plan which we call "Salvation History." They have a little knowledge, which is "a dangerous thing." They need to learn the scope of what they have yet to learn, "beginning with Moses and all the prophets." 
Our faith has prehistoric roots, especially if you consider the beginning of history as the moment when written documents -- clay tablets and papyrus -- appeared. The Hebrews passed their stories from generation to generation over many hundred years before they were recorded in any permanent form. The Holy Spirit preserved their vitality and integrity in the form of  songs, proverbs, laws and customs with food, clothing and dance as grandparents taught their grandchildren the faith of Abraham. 
Today's gospel describes that astonishing moment when everything the disciples had ever known had to be completely reinterpreted in the light of things "that have taken place (in Jerusalem) in these days." 
Until that time they thought they knew Moses and the prophets. They could tell stories of Adam and Eve, Noah, Abraham and Sarah, David and Bathsheba and Solomon. They knew in their bones what those stories meant. 
Suddenly, it seemed, they knew nothing. 
They had been following "Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people." They thought they knew what prophecy  meant although the voice of prophecy had gone silent for several hundred years. But, perhaps in answer to their prayers, God had found his voice again and two prophets had appeared, John the Baptist and Jesus of Nazareth. 
But now both prophets were dead. One man had disappeared in the darkness of Herod's dungeon; the other had been savagely executed by a city gone insane. They considered themselves lucky to be alive as they left Jerusalem on the second "morning after." (We can suppose the turbulent city was too dangerous even to attempt escape on the first morning.)
Today's gospel tells us what happened next. The Risen Lord came to them and explained what had happened, "beginning with Moses and the prophets."
Our new converts of 2019, gathered with their catechists, also have work to do as they reflect on their lives and how they will live with their new faith. 

I mentioned in conversation recently the tragic American experiment, Prohibition, and a jesting colleague asked if I remembered that era. 
"Of course, I do!" I said. "How could I forget Prohibition when we still have five hundred dry counties and municipalities" in the United States? I remember Prohibition and the Civil War and the Black Plague and the day Jesus died!"
Because we know the Risen Lord we know our place in history and geography. Just as the disciples knew what to do after Jesus' catechesis, we know the Spirit has sent us to this time and place to announce the Gospel. But, as any catechist will tell you, we still have much to learn. 

Tuesday, April 23, 2019

Tuesday of Easter Week


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


Perhaps the most attractive, delightful characteristic of our Christian religion is the privilege of knowing Jesus as a human being, "one like us in all things but sin." Because he has been raised up and revealed to us as God, we can imagine him in any way that is human. He might be American or Irish or Chinese. He might be healthy, beautiful, disabled, sickly or misshaped -- or all of those. Because the Risen Lord is completely human in every way, Jesus is female and male, the fullness of gender identity -- whatever that is. (Maleness and femaleness, separately, are only partial revelations of our human nature; needing each other to be complete.) 
Anyone who knows Jesus wants to love, cherish, caress, hold and cling to him. That may explain why some religious expressions sound so utterly insipid. I have seen pictures of Jesus  with his European features and shoulder-length brown hair and french beard that shout "WHITE" at me. They're often named  "Sacred Heart" or "Good Shepherd." Obviously, these pictures were painted by people of that ethnicity. 
I have no reason to believe images of those European statues were created specifically to exclude anyone. But every parish church, Catholic or Protestant, has to create the images that will help them to know the Lord. Just as African-American families purchase black dolls for their children and take them to see black Santa Clauses, so should every congregation imagine a God to whom they would cling as Mary Magdalene welcomed her Risen Savior. 
Because our God is a human being, we are free to imagine him in our own image and likeness. Every nation can and should portray Jesus in whatever fashion they find that helps them to see him as attractive, charming and adorable. 
Images of today's gospel are often called, "Nolo me tangere." meaning, "Do not touch me!" or "Do not cling to me." I have to suspect the artists and their culture have a prohibition against public signs of affection. They would prefer a religion less emotional, cooler, more rational and predictable. They're not comfortable with women or men who display too much religiosity in public, especially if it threatens to be warm and wet like kisses, tears and sweating, overheated caresses. 
But the Risen Lord invites precisely that kind of human delight in his presence. 
I remember one convert who admitted he became Catholic because his own religious tradition had never encouraged, or even imagined, a comfortable, intimate relationship with God. His family practiced religion and loved God, but not like that. He admired our knowing God on "a first-name basis." 
The Evangelists have shown us a God is human in every way except sin. (In fact, our sin inhibits our humanity and grace frees us from sin to be human.) It is right and good and safe, that we should love God. 

Monday, April 22, 2019

Monday in the Octave of Easter

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went away quickly from the tomb, fearful yet overjoyed,
and ran to announce the news to his disciples.
And behold, Jesus met them on their way and greeted them. They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage.


When the magi came searching for the new born king of the Jews, Saint Matthew tells us, they came to pay him homage. We don't hear the word again until the women embraced the feet of the Risen Lord and "did him homage." Whatever the magi (and Herod) meant by the word and its gestures, in the twenty-eighth chapter it means the worship of God.
The Lord Jesus has not simply been revived like one who begins to breathe again after CPR (cardio-pulmonary resuscitation.) He was dead and buried when we last saw him. He is now raised up and revealed as God -- the Only God. Who alone is worthy of worship.
The women are understandably fearful and overjoyed. No one sees God and lives. But they have lived for a reason, and that is to spread the Good News. I notice they don't stop to celebrate themselves or their experience of God, as if they had completed another bucket list item. In today's America, "spiritual experience" is often more valued than the purpose for which God bestows it, which is mission. You're supposed to share it, not hoard it. It's not about you.
Homage is about God and our willing obedience before God.
Modern philosophers have discussed extensively the fact and meaning of human existence. Many agree there is more than meets the eye. We are not simply fascinating biological-chemical-mechanical machines. There seems to be something within each body that renders us unrepeatable. Every person is unique in the sense that a gazillion universes in Nietzsche's eternal recurrence could not replicate you even once.
But more than existent and unique, each one of us is subject to judgement! This mystery is revealed by our Good God, although we might prefer not to know or believe it.
The response of the women -- their homage -- reveals one key facet of our existence. We must worship God. Not to do so is sheer folly. You might as well build a house perfectly suited to all your needs and pleasures and expectations -- and never live in it as not worship God. Why would anyone be so foolish?
Coming before the Lord on this second day of Easter, as we sing our Glorias and Alleluias, we realize that homage fits our nature like a key to a lock. It's what we're meant to do. And we are filled with joy.

Sunday, April 21, 2019

Easter Sunday 2019

If then you were raised with Christ, seek what is above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God. Think of what is above, not of what is on earth. For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ your life appears, then you too will appear with him in glory.


Catholics and Christians the world over regard this as the first and most sacred of Sundays. For us it is the first day, the third day and the seventh day; a day of creation, new creation and recreation. It is a day of overwhelming joy.

The joy comes in many forms, all delightful.
  • The Lord has won the victory for us against sin and death. Our enemies are in full retreat. We laugh our Ha-Ha-Halleluias to see them run.
  • We are relieved of enormous anxiety and dread because the threats of judgement, punishment and death are gone.
  • We have the promise of healing for our physical, psychological and spiritual suffering. Those who have not yet personally experienced that complete healing know it is coming. The Lord's victory has turned us in the right direction and we are recovering day by day.
  • Our critics have accused us of every sin and foolishness but in the Lord's resurrection we have found vindication. We are not guilty; we are not fools.
  • The Universe is saved and renewed in the resurrection of Jesus. Clearly, our greed, avarice and laziness have overwhelmed our planet's resources. We have the technology to correct our mistakes, we don't have the political will. We cannot rein in these fatal impulses despite our best efforts. The Resurrection of Jesus promises healing and restoration of our dying planet.
  • Vindicated, our lives have meaning and purpose again. We're not just whistling in the dark about Jesus. If our neighbors and fellow citizens have lost faith in God, civility and the rule of law, we believe every kind deed and every sacrifice will be recognized and rewarded.
  • Because we have seen Jesus our Head raised up and alive we can believe again in eternal life. The hereafter is not just a philosophical idea about the way things should be. It's not a denial of death's inevitability. In fact we embrace death, especially the daily death to self which we practice with every good deed. Because we have seen the Body of the Risen Lord we are sure our bodies will be raised up in him. Feeding on the Eucharist restores our hope daily.
  • Not even the nova of our sun and the dissolution of our Universe, which astronomers predict, can dampen our joy. The Lord will hold the Redeemed in the palm of his hand forever.
  • Our Church, sinful and much maligned, is also restored in the sight of the nations. In Easter the Lord embraces his Bride the Church and cleanses her of every impurity.
  • Our confidence in the Community of the Saints, that "cloud of witnesses," has also been restored. We can look forward again to the reunion of our families, friends and congregations in God's house. We entrusted our beloved to the Lord as we buried them from the Church. Our trust is vindicated by Easter.
There is no end of Easter joy. It takes many forms and generates endless expressions of gratitude.

May God bless you during this wonderful season.

Friday, April 19, 2019

Good Friday of the Lord's Passion


Yet it was our infirmities that he bore,
our sufferings that he endured,
while we thought of him as stricken,
as one smitten by God and afflicted.
But he was pierced for our offenses,
crushed for our sins; upon him was the chastisement that makes us whole, by his stripes we were healed.


Today's first reading from the Prophet Isaiah is the last and most important of his "servant psalms." Since the nineteenth century Protestant, Catholic and Jewish scholars have discussed who the original author meant by these verses, and what the original Jewish hearers thought of these prophecies. I am not familiar with their conversation; but I can say with assurance, Christians from the Four Evangelists to this day believe the words were fulfilled by the life and death of Jesus the Messiah. 
In today's reading, the "servant" is described as a pariah, one who is despised. Social scientists of our day recognize that every society blames their sins, failures and shame upon some person, group or minority. Typically, they "love the sin and hate the sinner." 
Just as the "black sheep" of a dysfunctional family is punished for the foolishness of their siblings and parents, while the "hero," the "loner" and the "clown" escape, so do pariah peoples suffer the abuse of their fellow citizens. 
In the United States we have seen pariah groups rebel against discrimination and segregation, and sometimes successfully. Arriving immigrants have often scrambled out of that lowest place. Poles, Irish and Italians escaped during the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries; GLBTQs fight for recognition today; leaving African Americans, Native Americans and single women where they have always been, in the lowest place. 
Meanwhile, the powerful are never inclined to own their own guilt, shame or grief when they can shift it to someone else. They learn that skill as children and never stop using it. Because they are "successful" they are more often admired than blamed, even for shameful public behavior. 
Ordinarily their being Catholic or Christian makes little difference to the dysfunctional family or segregated society. They simply use their religious symbols and language to blame someone else. In the classic triangle drama they can choose to be punishing judges like "God," heroic rescuers like "Jesus," or pathetic victims like the "Crucified." 
White racists, for instance, like to see themselves as victims of encroaching aliens, or punishing restorers of justice, and even -- occasionally -- rescuers of the downtrodden so long as it entails no actual sacrifice. 
In any case the act of blaming the pariah always and inevitably fails to restore justice and right. The dysfunctional family, discovering their black sheep has disappeared or died, disintegrates and scatters; or selects another sibling. Because they are so vicious it's not hard to find one of their own suffering from alcoholism or drug abuse. Even obesity or depression is blameworthy. They cannot, dare not, challenge their core beliefs about themselves. The segregated society also violently defends its traditions and culture with lynchings and pogroms.
This fixing of blame upon the pariah is as old as human history, as real and intractable  as Original Sin. It doesn't stop when one or another group successfully escapes that trap. It won't stop when enough people have been educated by a "liberal" society to think differently. It's far deeper than ideas (ideology) can fathom or eradicate. 

Oddly, Isaiah describes his mysterious servant as a pariah but prophecies, "by his stripes we were healed." He must be pointing to a very deep mystery because we have several millennia of human history to prove him wrong. After an extended reflection on the misery of the servant, Isaiah prophecies, 
If he gives his life as an offering for sin,he shall see his descendants in a long life,and the will of the LORD shall be accomplished through him.
and
through his suffering, my servant shall justify many,and their guilt he shall bear. 
Clearly, this man is like none other. We have executed in barbaric fashion millions of people and have found respite from our evil as a result of none of those killings. If the death of this man has a different result, he must be no ordinary man. He must be like nothing philosophy can imagine or history can fabricate.  He must be, as Nathaniel said, the Son of God!
Millions of Christians around the world will hear Isaiah's prophecy again and ponder this mystery. We pray that his words might be true. We pray that we who are anointed as The Christ is anointed, might be willing to take up our guilt, shame and grief and walk in the very footsteps of Jesus. Only he can reverse the trajectory of human violence; but the faithful may participate.  

Thursday, April 18, 2019

Holy Thursday – Evening Mass of the Lord's Supper -- 2019


"This is how you are to eat it: with your loins girt, sandals on your feet and your staff in hand, you shall eat like those who are in flight.


Ordinarily, when people gather for a festive meal, they shed their coats and hats, adapting to a relaxed, comfortable environment. They're assured there will be no rush for the door after the meal, and certainly not during the meal.
So Moses' instruction for the Passover -- that everyone should be prepared for a fast exit -- must strike anyone as pretty odd, and obviously important. Has there ever been another traditional meal with such a curious custom? There must be deep significance to this practice.
The Passover is a meal like none other, and so is our Eucharist. Moses' words remind us that our religion appeared during a crisis. It began with our "Last Supper" in Egypt, before we set out for the unknown "promised land." 
We had seen God's power demonstrated but we were not yet released from bondage. We were told to be ready to move out, but had not yet heard the order. If we were an army preparing to ship out, we were burdened with wives and children and the elderly. We could not outrun the Egyptian army's chariots. At that point the Powers that Be might have been tired of our presence but they were not yet ready to send us away. That would come with the death of every first born son of every family. 
Moses' directive that we should be prepared for a fast exit reminds us that we celebrate our faith in a foreign land. Our fellow citizens have not always been hospitable. Even in the United States today, many people despise Jews and entertain themselves with memories of murder and mayhem in Jewish cemeteries, synagogues and ghettos. Catholics have usually been more welcome but that can change in the twinkling of an eye. The laws that protect us are written on paper which, like a marriage license, can be shredded. 
We are, or should be, a peculiar people, as the Bible says. We belong to the Lord and not to any particular place or time. Our memories do not begin in 1776 or 1492. They begin in the mists of prehistory with vague figures like Abraham, Sarah and Melchizedek. They become more concrete with the Exodus from Egypt, David's capture of Jerusalem, and Solomon's building the temple. We remember the Babylonian Exile and the diaspora throughout the world. 
As Catholics we remember the signal event of Jesus' birth, death and resurrection and his command to "Do this in memory of me." No matter how long our story lasts, no matter how far we get from Jerusalem, we will not forget the Lord and his command, his dying wish. 
But, as often as our peaceful spirit is welcome among the nations, so often is our reverence for human dignity suspect. We don't abort our unborn, abandon our spouses or children, or euthanize our elderly. We also welcome strangers because our ancestors were strangers in Egypt, Palestine, and North America. Our hospitality to migrants will always make the locals feel uncomfortable with us, especially to those who have forgotten the migrations of their ancestors. 

Except for the children who forget to shed their heavy coats upon entering the church, we do not retain the Mosaic practice of keeping our loins girt, our sandals on our feet and staffs in our hands. But we remember what it means. We celebrate this Holy Thursday repast remembering Moses' perpetual institution and Jesus' command, "Do this in memory of me." 
As the psalmist said, 
If I forget you, Jerusalem, may my right hand forget. May my tongue stick to my palate if I do not remember you, if I do not exalt Jerusalem beyond all my delights. 

Wednesday, April 17, 2019

Wednesday of Holy Week


The Lord GOD is my help,
therefore I am not disgraced;
I have set my face like flint,
knowing that I shall not be put to shame.
He is near who upholds my right;
if anyone wishes to oppose me,
let us appear together.
Who disputes my right?
Let him confront me.
See, the Lord GOD is my help;
who will prove me wrong?

The traitor Judas Iscariot appears prominently in the weekday gospels of Holy Week. He introduces a shattering distress into the "college of apostles." There had always been quarrels, bickering and jockeying for position among these grown men. They contended for the Lord's favor like anxious children despite his gracious regard for each of them. But none had ever imagined that one of their fellowship might betray the Lord. They were astonished and mortified to realize the Iscariot had taken money for his treachery.
Our first reading today, the third of Isaiah's servant songs, accentuates the isolation of the Messiah. When "he sets (his) face like flint" he seems to assume a stoic posture before his abusers, "knowing that I shall not be put to shame."
But the Servant's champion is God, and that is entirely unlike the stoic's attitude. The latter neither accepts nor welcomes comfort. He assumes a romantic attitude, a heroic cast. "I am a rock!" he sings, "I am an island! And a rock feels no pain. And an island never cries."
Our Lord entertains no such illusions. With his faith in a personal God he needs no such nonsense.
He is near who upholds my right;
if anyone wishes to oppose me,
let us appear together (before God's throne.)
As we go with the Lord to Calvary we should notice his serenity. While his enemies rage and his friends disappear and the hour of tortured death approaches, he remains calm.
Our Catholic tradition especially honors the Mother of Jesus during his passion. Saint John tells us she was there on Calvary; the fourth station of the Way of the Cross describes their meeting along the way.
We can hardly imagine the sadness Mary felt on that day; but we can see her remaining with her son with the courage and spirit of the Maccabean widow. We can also believe that the Lord, even in his torment, was consoled by her presence. If his human suffering was limited by the limited capacity of our human bodies for pain, his ability to be consoled was infinite. And Mary, "full of grace" by the outpouring of the Holy Spirit, could fill that infinite capacity.
How wonderful it is to be able to receive the comfort of loved ones during a crisis or grief. It might appear even as "an ordinary grace" to the casual bystander. The cynic, the stoic and the prideful will see a funeral and despise the "weaklings" who must cry in each others' arms. The blessed are those who give themselves to grief, disappointment and sorrow, and accept the comfort of loved ones.
Just as Mary comforted her son, she also accepted his consolation on that bleak Friday morning.
We have often heard Jesus speak of his Father and their intense relationship. In yesterday's gospel he declared:
"Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.
If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself,
and he will glorify him at once.
Mary conveyed the Father's comforting assurance to Jesus. She also represented our compassion for him, as we, her children, are moved by the same spirit. As he poured out his blood, water and spirit in love for us he was also filled to capacity by her presence. 
Therefore he was not disgraced, he was not put to shame. The Lord was his help; there was no one who could prove him wrong.

Tuesday, April 16, 2019

Tuesday of Holy Week


...and it was night.
When (Judas) had left, Jesus said,
"Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.
If God is glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself,
and he will glorify him at once.


Glorious usually refers to sunrises and sunsets, and to spectacular achievements like military victories or political upheavals. The victors of any contest like to wrap themselves in glory, whether they deserve it or not. Their supporters will celebrate with them; their opponents will suffer through it. But when the Gospel of Saint John speaks of glory, the setting and circumstances seem entirely wrong.
In today's gospel, Judas Iscariot leaves the table in the middle of a festive evening. Most of his companions suppose he's taking care of business. Perhaps he was the anxious sort who never really belonged to the group but found a place among them because the leader placed him there. If anyone asks, "Why is he here?" the answer was given, "Why is any one of us here? How did you get in? Or me?" The whys and wherefores of this group of men of no particular standing, credentials or talents have always been rather mysterious. They certainly weren't chosen for their looks or intelligence.
Only Jesus seemed to have a clear understanding of what goes on, or where they're going. So when Judas left the room, apparently at the Lord's behest -- "What you are going to do, do quickly!" -- the disciples didn't even raise an eyebrow.
Saint John tells us, "It was night." A dark night, indeed; although the disciples, in the presence of Glorious Light, were blissfully unaware of the outer gloom. In his prologue Saint John has declared, "...the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it."
What could be more inglorious than betrayal? A leader's glory relies mostly upon his supporters. If they are faithful and true, he has eclat. If they are rabidly enthusiastic for him and everything he represents, he has great glory. But if he is betrayed by a close confidant his glory is stained, besmirched.
His faithful supporters may react with furious outrage, especially because they feel betrayed. But worse, the traitor has introduced certain poisons into the group: doubt, cynicism,duplicity, and treachery. They might deny their anxious feelings of uncertainty, insisting that they still believe in their champion. But the doubt remains, a troubled feeling that maybe they didn't see what the traitor saw. Perhaps they were blinded by the light and didn't see the darkness that was always there.
At the moment of Judas's departure, contrary to all expectations and the wisdom of our experience, Jesus declares, "Now is the Son of Man glorified...."
The Light is shining in darkness, more brilliantly than anything we can imagine. It is the light of fidelity, of the Faithful God who gives more than God can give, the God who is consumed, emptied, drained by a total gift of self in the face of the most despicable human treachery. As Saint Paul said,
If we are unfaithful
he remains faithful,
for he cannot deny himself.