Friday of the Fourth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 283

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. 

You have faith in God; have faith also in me. 

In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If there were not, would I have told you that I am going to prepare a place for you?

And if I go and prepare a place for you,

I will come back again and take you to myself,

so that where I am you also may be.

Do not let your hearts be troubled. You have faith in God; have faith also in me.

As I write this Indianapolis is reeling under the impact of another mass killing. The incidents have skyrocketed this year in the United States. Politicians are just as helpless to stop them as civil authorities, police, the news media, and religious leaders. They occur suddenly, unpredictably, anywhere and everywhere. 

President Biden has described them as an epidemic, comparing the deaths to those of the coronavirus, drug abuse, alcoholism, and suicide. If anyone profits by these incidents, they loudly and insistently deny it. Although there is much finger-pointing, no one assumes responsibility or blame. They make no sense. 

Although federal authorities are turning their attention to homegrown terrorism sponsored by ultra right wing agencies, most mass killings are not intentionally terrifying. They appear to be the work of madmen, severely disoriented persons who cannot direct their energies toward creative solutions. Although they often follow a formula of killing first and then suicide, they seem to have no purpose. The killers have not thought about their consequences. 

Victims were arbitrarily chosen to die; they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. That is, they were in the United States at this time. And yet few of us are fleeing our homeland for a safer place. Either we hope the madness will not find us, or we feel sent to this place at this time. 

I was sent to Australia in 1980, but returned in 1981. Like Saint Anthony in Morocco, I got sick and had to return home. I suppose the Lord was pleased with my willingness to migrate to a foreign country but he wanted me here in -- as Che Guevara called it -- "the heart of the beast." I could not make a huge difference anywhere but that isn't important either. 

In today's gospel Jesus speaks of many dwelling places. I'll assume these are many safe places. But his idea of a safe (or good) place and ours can sometimes be radically different. His good place to die was a cross; his good time to die was as the paschal sheep were being slaughtered. His safe place was the will of the Father. 

Jesus assures us again, "Do not let your hearts be troubled." 

We might tremble with fear as he did in the Garden of Gethsemane, but we'll pray, rise up, and go about our mission to be the Presence of God's mercy in an anguished world. 

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

Lectionary: 282

“Amen, amen, I say to you, no slave is greater than his master
nor any messenger greater than the one who sent him.
If you understand this, blessed are you if you do it.

Historically, as the religious orders formed in the Church, their first vow was obedience. Celibacy (chastity) and poverty came later; they were assumed as a subset of obedience. 

Saint Francis urged his friars always to obey their guardians (he preferred that title to superiors) even when they disagreed with the guardian about what should be done. Obedience was more important than being right. I have often heard men and women say something quite similar regarding marriage. 

As I have celebrated the Mass these 40+ years I have sometimes changed a word or two in the formal prayers, and then wondered why I did that. Was that minor alteration justified, necessary, and more important than the received text? Was my emendation so important that it overruled the compliance I owe to the Church? 

I have sometimes attended Masses when the priest so severely altered the prayers I was sure the Mass was not a Roman Catholic ceremony. He and his all important style seemed to come between God and his congregation. (I have also been moved to tears by the long-suffering patience of our faithful congregations.) 

Jesus stresses his teaching, "...no slave is greater than his master nor any messenger greater than the one who sent him." with "Amen, amen, I say to you!" 

We'd better listen to that!

Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 281

The word of God continued to spread and grow. 

With that observation, Saint Luke closes his story about Peter's unexpected escape from prison, his going underground, and the ghastly death of Herod Antipas, nephew of King Herod the Great. He now takes up the story of Saints Barnabas and Paul and their missionary journeys. 

The word of God is spreading like wildfire wherever they go. Jews and gentiles alike are eager to hear the Good News despite the misgivings of religious and civil authorities. 

The story of Jesus is not easy to swallow. We should worship a man who was condemned and executed? We should believe on your word that he was raised from the dead and revealed as the Only Begotten Son of God? 

But many were ready for such a word; it made sense to them. The Roman Empire was  founded on raw power. It succeeded as all empires have, by promoting trade with highways free of crime and sea lanes  free of piracy. There were taxes, of course, but not unbearable; and the Romans were indifferent to which religion you practiced so long as your religion made no difference. The system, like ours, worked so well that the wealthy got wealthier and the poor stagnated in their poverty. An efficient army suppressed discontent by crucifying malcontents, except when they preferred more barbaric methods. We can suppose they expected to maintain their empire forever. 

The Gospel announced a new emperor who disdained wealth, luxury, and success even as he provided peace of mind and heart. Wherever the disciples preached the Holy Spirit verified their message with healed bodies and  hearts burning within them. It sounded right. 

The Lord God of Heaven and Earth had been born of a virgin; had grown up in obscurity and poverty. He had healed the sick and sometimes raised the dead. He had been run to ground by the authorities but raised up again. Jesus of Nazareth had all the authority of God and all the meek helplessness of a Roman subject. He is one of us and yet the Only Begotten Son of God. 

Saint Luke is acutely aware of the Holy Spirit's working with the missionaries. They cannot possibly succeed unless they listen for and immediately obey the Spirit's directives. Where the apostles had once hung on every word of Jesus, they now waited with eager willingness the promptings of the Holy Spirit. Nor could they doubt for a moment the Spirit's wisdom. 

If they were detained in prison; if some like Stephen and James were murdered; if others compromised the faith and turned away from the Lord: they remembered Jesus's predictions about those very troubles. They could not see beyond the horizon but they knew God could and they trusted God instinctively. 

Their intention to announce the Gospel to the whole world, ambitious though it was, did not seem impossible. Every setback was a success, every trial won more converts. 

We remember their story in our time, when it seems that few want to hear the Gospel. But today's titans of news, social media, entertainment, industry, commerce, the sciences, and government represent not many people. If they are the most visible they are not the majority. The Gospel still spreads and takes root among the displaced and dismissed, and those who count for nothing. The Spirit and the Church still flourish there. 

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.”

 

 

As we hear the determination in Jesus’s voice to be our shepherd, and his resolve to be the obedient Servant of God, we understand this is Who He Is. His shepherding is not a temporary assignment; Jesus remains as our guide, encouragement, protector, and strength for all eternity. His shepherding fits his role as priest, and he embodies the words of the 110th psalm, “You are a priest forever according to the line of Melchizedek.” He will follow that calling – Catholics call it a vocation – to the very end.

When Jesus says, “The Father and I are one!” he underlines their intense agreement. The Father and the Son are not one and the same person. They are not one as if the Father is the Son; or the Son is the Father. Rather, they are of one will. To use an analogy that pales before this mystery: any member of a football team wants to win as does the whole team. They are one in that resolve. I hear Jesus slamming his hand on the table as he makes this statement, and I see his disciples startled by his evident emotion. They can hardly fathom what it will cost him.

 

Because he is our Shepherd, we recognize our identity as sheep. This is Who We Are. And No One takes us from the Lord. Nor from his Father! We belong heart and soul to God or we have no existence whatsoever.

We're talking ontology here, the language of being. It's about who and what I am. Older folks will remember the words of the catechism, that Baptism, Confirmation, and Ordination to the Priesthood leave characters on our soul. We are fundamentally changed from the natural state of birth. We are different beings. 

What the catechism didn't quite explain is that God claims us as his own, as "a people peculiarly his own." And there is no turning back. 

 

We become sheep, or childlike, as we set aside our fears and suspicions to obey the Lord. That entails trusting both God and his Church. We know God by the trust we place in our priests and bishops, in our spouses, parents, and children, in our fellow Christians. The measure of our relationship with others is the measure of our being, our existence. I am human insofar as I belong to God and his Incarnate Son. 

 

Monday of the Fourth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 279

 

Although Jesus used this figure of speech,
the Pharisees did not realize what he was trying to tell them.

 

The Pharisees in today’s gospel, befuddled by their hostility to Jesus, could not understand what he was trying to tell them. We should understand that very well, caught up as we are in the Internet of Polarized Confusion. Their ignorance of the gospel will only increase with time as the parables and metaphors of the Gospels evolve into the cryptic codes of Revelation. As Isaiah prophesied, they will look and not see; hear and not understand.

Religious language is intended for the faithful who have been initiated and indoctrinated into its coded words and hidden allusions. It is not open to just anyone; it is not aimed at the broadest possible market.

Chaplains in the VA hospital receive many requests for the Bible. As the Catholic priest I wonder to which book of this mystic library will the Veteran turn. Do they expect to open at any page and find answers to their problems, guidance, and encouragement? Many, of course, attend both church and Bible study and are familiar with certain books. Like me, they delight in reading familiar passages. 

But the sacred scriptures are often promoted as an answer to all life’s problems for unbelievers as if anyone can pick them up and "God" will speak to them. Occasionally, the same Veterans will ask if we can provide a Koran or the Book of Mormon, or the Bhagavad Vita. They’re all the same to them.

 

In today’s gospel, Jesus describes his relationship with his disciples:

"When he has driven out all his own,

he walks ahead of them, and the sheep follow him,

because they recognize his voice.

But they will not follow a stranger.

They will run away from him,

because they do not recognize the voice of strangers.”

 

We should notice he drives out all his own from the sheepfold as he leads them into the fields. To know the Lord, to savor the sweetness of his presence, we must come away to a deserted place. We learn the language of love from him as his voice becomes daily more familiar.

While many people doubt the existence of a “personal god,” we hear the affectionate, reassuring voice of our shepherd. Where some people doubt their god would have time for them, our Shepherd calls each of us by name. The invitation is there for the willing. 

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Lectionary: 49

This is why the Father loves me,

because I lay down my life in order to take it up again.

No one takes it from me, but I lay it down on my own.

I have power to lay it down, and power to take it up again.

This command I have received from my Father.”

 

The sign of the Good Shepherd is his loving obedience before God for the salvation of the world. As we know, his willingness included “death, even death on a cross.” That also entailed his purity and innocence on the one hand, and his total surrender on the other. Betrayed by a trusted apostle, abandoned by virtually all his disciples, distanced by his family, falsely accused by political and religious opponents, callously executed by an indifferent occupying force (the Roman army), under the silent heaven: Jesus of Nazareth died quietly, without self-defense, like a sacrificial lamb. No one spoke for him; no one seemed to care. He was our scapegoat for everything we don’t like about God, life, and ourselves. 

 

Belief that this innocent man rose from the dead is the cornerstone and anchor of our religion.

 

Today, religion itself is widely challenged as archaic, passe, a thing of the past. “Modern” men and women believe they can live and thrive without faith in a transcendent god. Children can be conformed to the laws of a civilized nation without religious instruction or practice. Consequent upon that foolish decision, we see a rise of alternate “religions.” The human need for religion is not satisfied with pablum. These fake religions include partisan politics, ideologies, parody religions from Wicca to QAnon, and industrial-strength entertainment.

   

Inevitably, out of that confusing morass, strong leaders arise who claim to serve others while serving only themselves. I think, for instance, of Rupert Murdoch, the Australian entrepreneur and owner of the Fox networks. Beginning with little more than his wits he amassed one of the greatest fortunes on earth by marketing insinuations, conspiracies, deceptions, and outright lies. His alternate news pretends to serve a real need but offers only alternative facts. He has neither knowledge of, nor love of, Truth. The formerly anti-abortion real estate dealer and TV entertainer, Donald Trump, was Murdoch’s personal creation.

Human beings – like it or not! –  are like sheep. We cannot survive unless we work with others. We need trustworthy leaders and yet we have only one another. Despite our best efforts to make them into fountains of wisdom, rocks of courage, and models of integrity leaders are ordinary men and women. More often than not they are only partly aware of their true motives, and driven by unacknowledged fears, resentments, and greed. Even when we insist that kings are also subject to law, we find reasons to excuse them from its controls. 

The Good Shepherd comes to us as one of our own. He aspires to lead us by serving us without provision for himself. He follows that path from Bethlehem to Nazareth to Jerusalem and Calvary. Were he only God he could not save us for he would not know our weakness. Were he only a man he would have no more authority than anyone else. He does not lead by domination, threats, manipulation, or guile. He has neither need nor interest in earthly power and does not amass it. As the Word of God Incarnate he has proven he is trustworthy by dying and rising for our salvation. 

He saves those who are willing to be saved by him. But those who simply despise religion are sheep without a shepherd.  

Saturday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 278

Many of the disciples of Jesus who were listening said, “This saying is hard; who can accept it?”

This third Saturday of the Easter Season brings us to the denouement of John 6, and the decision. Fully aware of the moment, Jesus demands, "“Does this shock you?

What if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before?" 

The only visible ascension in John's Gospel is his being lifted on a cross. He will tell Mary Magdalene of his invisible ascent to the Father, a mission he accomplishes while she goes to tell the disciples what she has seen, heard, and touched. 

The challenge of his Good Friday ascension will make this one seem simple. And yet our response must be the same, even as we look on the lifeless body of Our Lord, 

“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.”

As I minister in the VA hospital I often encounter the patients' particular spiritual challenges, the waiting and not knowing. Some people cannot handle the stress and announce they will leave AMA (Against Medical Advice). Occasionally we hear a "code green" which means we should drop everything and search for a Veteran who may be wandering in his confusion. More often, they're found at home, perfectly aware of where they are and what they have done. 

Jesus's disciples, too, challenged to wait and not know, are sometimes missing in action: 

As a result of this, many of his disciples returned to their former way of life and no longer walked with him.

In the summer of 1962, the Church experienced a tremor as Pope John XXIII called for a Vatican council. Few could imagine what it might mean but many people knew that church councils are rare and there had been none since 1868. I remember my mother's remark, "There will be changes; we must pray that we'll be to make the adjustment."

She did pray and she remained faithful. Many returned their former way of life and no longer walked with him. 

The Church continues to learn and grow as we live in an ever-changing world on a dynamic planet. And we still lift up our eyes to see our Risen Lord raised on a cross. 

Friday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 277

“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. 
Whoever eats my Flesh and drinks my Blood
has eternal life,
and I will raise him on the last day.
For my Flesh is true food,
and my Blood is true drink. 
Whoever eats my Flesh and drinks my Blood
remains in me and I in him.

The Gospel of Saint John describes intense engagement with his opponents as Jesus speaks the Word of Truth. They can neither hear what he says nor the manner of his saying it. Although he seems intentionally to generate this controversy, practically inviting disagreement, it is impossible to understand his teaching if our approach is analytical, critical, or suspicious. 

The teaching requires simple acceptance; that is, obedience. Jesus speaks and we listen. This is what he says; how can I receive this teaching into my thinking, my attitudes, my approach to life? How do I receive it into my body? 

I eat his flesh and drink his blood. 

Rather than rewording the teaching in some manner that I can understand, that makes sense to me and to others, I let it teach me how to think and what words to use. I may have to wait a long time. If others ask me why I believe, I may have no answer for them. Or no answer that comes readily to my lips and readily to their understanding. 

I simply accept the invitation to eat and drink and remain in him. 

I might never have useful words to explain this mystery to myself. The Catholic Church, through many centuries of prayerful conversation, created the word transubstantiation. But not many Catholics have been trained in the histories of philosophy and theology to grasp that subtle concept. I suggest to some people, "It means a substantial relationship, like that of husband and wife, brother and sister, pastor and congregation." I'm not sure that helps, especially if that individual's relationships are strained or non-existent. 

One First Friday morning I took the Eucharist to a mischievous old man in my parish. He was a wit with more than a touch of senescence. When I held the Sacrament before his eyes and said, "This is the Body of Christ!" he said, "I don't believe that!" 

Young man that I was I said, "Shut up and eat it!" 

Sometimes it's just that simple. 

Thursday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary 276

Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me.
Not that anyone has seen the Father except the one who is from God; he has seen the Father. 
Amen, amen, I say to you,
whoever believes has eternal life. 

 

Jesus’s statement “Whoever believes has eternal life” might be regarded as his minimal requirement for salvation. “If you do this, you’re saved; you’re good. Don’t worry about it.” 

It’s a pleasant, non-confrontational way to include everyone in the final roster. It relieves one of judging whether someone has been saved, which is a particular burden for some Christian denominations. They are forever asking, “Have you been saved?” If you say you believe, then you’re saved. No further questions!

But does Jesus intend to describe a minimum requirement for eternal life? Is that all he asks, and is it that easy? The Gospel of John, which is often confrontational, is never satisfied with just getting by. Even when some Jews in the Gospel appear to believe, Jesus knows they don’t.

In today’s gospel, he says, “Everyone who listens to my Father….” Listening is not something one stops doing, or does once in a while. Listening is a continual awareness of the One who speaks and a readiness to respond. When we listen to God we learn and come to Jesus.

An irreligious or secular mindset would compartmentalize one’s relationship with God. They can retreat from listening to the Father to abide in a separate place. They might say, “Sunday is the Lord’s Day, and the rest is mine.” Or they might dedicate a portion of their assets to God as Ty Ty Walden dedicated part of his farm in Erskine Caldwell’s novel, God’s Little Acre. The rest they use for their own purposes.

In the final paragraph of John 6, Saint Peter provides our true response, as we shall hear on Saturday:

Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?”
Simon Peter answered him, “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.”

Peter, as spokesman for the twelve, speaks for the entire Church. Listening to the Father and coming to Jesus means belonging to the “Twelve,” that is, the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic Church. There are no compartments in our belonging to God, no hidden rooms, no dark secrets, no reservations, ifs, ands, or buts.

Each day, as we ask for God’s guidance, we begin with a dedication like that of Pope Saint John Paul II, “Totus tuus.” I am totally yours.

 

 

Wednesday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary 275

“I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me will never hunger,
and whoever believes in me will never thirst.


Historically, the Roman Catholic Church has clung to the most literal understanding of Jesus’s teaching about “the bread of life.” We take seriously his dual commands to “Take and eat; this is my body.” And Take and eat, this is my blood.” When he capped these directives with, “Do this in memory of me,” we knew we must never cease to eat and drink his flesh and blood.

During the Fourth Lateran Council (1213-1215), attended by Saints Francis and Dominic, the new mendicant orders were charged with spreading the cult of the Blessed Sacrament. My patron Saint Francis wanted his friars to carry brooms; they should sweep out churches where they found the Blessed Sacrament. A vigil light should be lit and the faithful should understand that the Lord God of Heaven and Earth resides in this holy place, under the form of a little piece of bread.”

He urged his friars:

Let everyone be struck with fear, let the whole world tremble, and let the heavens exult when Christ, the Son of the living God, is present on the altar in the hands of a priest! O wonderful loftiness and stupendous dignity! O sublime humility! O humble sublimity! The Lord of the universe, God and the Son of God, so humbles Himself that for our salvation He hides Himself under an ordinary piece of bread!

Brothers, look at the humility of God, and pour out your hearts before Him! Humble yourselves that you may be exalted by Him! Hold back nothing of yourselves for yourselves, that He Who gives Himself totally to you may receive you totally!

God’s presence in the Blessed Sacrament was never in the Church’s mind a metaphor; it is literal and physical. If we cannot understand how that is, neither can I understand my presence in my human body! It’s there; it’s real; and it doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere else!

We might posit two reasons for this insistence:

• First and more important: this is God’s intention. How could we interpret Jesus’s solemn declarations on the night before he died differently? Any other interpretation lessens its impact.
• Secondly, another interpretation allows a less radical response to God’s word. If the bread has not become Jesus’ body, my attentive, devout presence is not required. As it is, we must share the Eucharist in the Church with the faithful and carry it to the homebound. We must house it safely in a locked tabernacle and revere its presence even when we seem to be alone in the sanctuary. Reverence – sometimes called “Fear of the Lord” – demands no less.

Both Biblical Testaments insist that our God will not be taken for granted. He will not be categorized, compartmentalized, dismissed, or ignored. His mercies are superabundant and continual. Should we forget that, the Blessed Sacrament is here to remind us. 

 

 

Tuesday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 274

 So they said to Jesus,

“Sir, give us this bread always.” 

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 nineteenth century Cardinal Saint John Henry Newman predicted the decline of religion in Eurocentric societies as people moved away from Catholicism through Protestantism. The freedom to pick and choose, mix and match religious doctrines is a one-way street to irrelevance. Someone might develop a perfectly comfortable set of beliefs, but they won’t persuade their children of that custom-made concoction.

If your religion doesn’t make you feel uncomfortable often, it cannot be from God. The Truth must be larger, broader, more subtle, more substantial, and more dangerous than anything we can conceive or understand. We should worship Truth as it has been revealed through these several thousand years; a religion born of one moment in human history will die with its generation. 

We are seeing religion decline as society atomizes and polarizes; and we are watching the ominous rise of conspirituality, a convergence of conspiracy theories and personal spirituality. Where spirituality is consumer-oriented and hyper-individualistic, conspiracy theories gather well-meaning, but gullible people. They find mysterious  "patterns" in unrelated events both recent and historical, and persuade their followers to fear shadowy, diabolical influences. They are searching for a real world religion like Catholicism, where dogmas and life intersect. But they are looking without the help of divine revelation. They find only fantasies of their own making. 

Like the mystery religions of ancient Rome, conspirituality reveals arcane "secrets" to the initiated, and persuade them that they are -- or might be -- victims of dangerous multinational corporations. Energized, believers may strike out in self-defense; but when their "enemies" are everywhere and nowhere, the violence must be random and senseless. At best they are comically harmless. But, as we saw on January 6, they might kill people without a shadow of remorse or regret, while their Christian leaders look on in impassive consent. 

Jesus, the Revealed Word of God, through the Catholic religion, calls us back to our senses. In this moment when billions of people are like sheep without a shepherd, we hear the Lord speak, 

…whoever comes to me will never hunger,

And who ever believes in me will never thirst.

Jesus does not customize his teaching to fit our changing opinions and preferences. He has nothing to say to the cafeteria Christian who picks through a smorgasbord of religious practices and beliefs to find something to fit their needs. His becoming human, even to the point of dying on a cross, is compromise enough. His cross shows how far our God will go to accommodate our need for salvation. He can do no more; he can give no more for there is nothing more to give. 

Monday of the Third Week of Easter

Lectionary: 273

Jesus answered them and said,

“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.

 

 

During the octave of Easter, we heard the gospel stories of Jesus’s appearances and commissioning; during the second week of Easter, we studied the conversation with Nicodemus and especially the words,

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him might not perish but might have eternal life.”

This third week of Easter offers John 6 and contemplation of the “food that endures for eternal life.”

 

We had heard of that food already in chapter 4, and the encounter with the Samaritan woman. Jesus explained to his befuddled disciples, “‘I have food to eat that you do not know about.” And then, “My food is to do the will of him who sent me and to complete his work.”

We should notice the coupling of the words food and work in chapters four and six. Today’s passage concludes with, “This is the work of God, that you believe in the one he sent.”

We don’t usually think of eating as work. Most employers give their staff time to eat with an unpaid half-hour, which may be anything but leisurely. The work of eating, as Jesus uses the word, is a pleasant, blessed event like eating with one’s family, friends, or colleagues; it is a sacred, necessary leisure.

From its origins in the Sinai desert the Jewish religion was celebrated with festive meals. When the Lord freed his chosen people from bondage in Egypt, he demanded that they show their gratitude with three major feasts every year. (Deuteronomy 16) Their tithe of several annual harvests provided ample amounts of food. No Israelite, no matter how poor or unfortunate, should go hungry during these festivals.

As we ponder today’s gospel, we remember that the crowd pursuing Jesus across the Sea of Galilee had just enjoyed an amazing work in the wilderness. With five barley loaves and two fish he had fed an enormous crowd. But, apparently, they had not put two and two together; they were not reminded of God’s providing for their ancestors in the desert. 

They did not see the sign; and could not understand that he is the food that endures for eternal life. Like irreligious people of today, they wanted only to feed their physical appetites.

The work that Jesus demands of this crowd and of us is that we feast on his flesh and blood. This is a religious necessity, just as eating, drinking, and sleeping are physical necessities for human life. His mission is to feed us: “I came so that they might have life and have it more abundantly.”

Third Sunday of Easter

Lectionary: 47

My children, I am writing this to you so that you may not commit sin. But if anyone does sin, we have an Advocate with the Father,
Jesus Christ the righteous one.
He is expiation for our sins,
and not for our sins only but for those of the whole world.

 

The scriptures often use legal words to describe our relationship with God. He is the ruler who makes the laws, the judge who declares guilt or innocence, and the punisher who executes justice against the wicked and vindicates the innocent. 

In the New Testament, Jesus’s disciples witness – that is they see and hear -- his teachings, miracles, death, and resurrection. And they witness – that is they declare what they saw and heard -- before kings, magistrates, judges, and large crowds of Jews and gentiles.

Expiation is another legal word. When someone has done harm to another, they should expiate, make amends, atone for; purge by sacrifice, make good what was wrong.  The word is akin to pious (faithful, loyal, devout) propitiate and appease. 

They should make it right.

We Christians believe that Jesus has expiated not only our sins but those of the whole world. He has made what is terribly wrong right.

Now this is more than a band aid over a cancerous sore. It is more than the healing of a broken bone. It is not simply a new start to a damaged relationship as if the past never happened.

When we look at the Risen Lord Jesus, we see the wounds in his hands, feet, and side. They are gaping and fresh. No one should ever forget his crucifixion like an irrelevant thing of the past. There is no past in God's world.  

But his wounds are beautiful to the eyes of faith. As soon as we found the opportunity to express our new religion in words and song, in paintings and sculpture, we described the beautiful, risen, wounded body of the Lord. We would not hide his crucifixion.

The expiation of Jesus goes far beyond a simple repayment, as if we could start again from where we were. If I stole ten thousand dollars from someone and then returned the same ten thousand dollars a month later, I would not expect that person to leave money laying around in my presence. I would not expect them to trust me with a loan. The money might be repaid but the damage to their finances, their credit, and their well being is not forgotten.

Through his passion, death, and resurrection, Jesus has gone beyond simple reparation. He has brought us far beyond our natural capacities. His grace heals troubled marriages, restores the affections of parents and children, reunites siblings, friends, and neighbors. It bonds people of different races, sexual orientations, and political philosophies. We now enjoy a relationship with God more satisfying and wonderful than that of Adam and Eve in the innocence of Eden. 

This is one of those mysteries like Einstein’s relativity and quantum theory; it staggers the mind and yet we believe and act upon it. We believe the Lord has expiated our sins and we live in that knowledge with joy and freedom and great confidence. 

The Risen Jesus invites us to live boldly and give generously. As we share our resources we declare “There’s more where that came from!” When we fail, we get up and try again because the Lord’s mercies are not exhausted,

…his compassion is not spent;

They are renewed each morning—

great is your faithfulness!

The LORD is my portion, I tell myself,

therefore I will hope in him. Lamentation 3:22-24

 

Saturday of the Second Week of Easter

Lectionary: 272

When it was evening, the disciples of Jesus went down to the sea, embarked in a boat, and went across the sea to Capernaum.

Today's gospel concerns the disciples' adventure on the Sea of Galilee, a shallow body of water that could be mightily stirred by a passing storm, and settle down soon afterward. The first reading concerns the same company braving wider, deeper, more dangerous seas as they undertook the evangelization of the world. 

Organizations often start with a flurry of enthusiasm under the guidance of seat-of-your-pants pilots. A small group of people breathe an eager spirit and throw themselves into realizing their dream. They enjoy much success even as they suffer crushing defeats; there are quarrels and reconciliations and betrayals and healings as their common ambition impels them forward. Secretaries make executive decisions while executives run to the airport; salespersons invent on the fly; while technicians sell plan to strangers. 

Eventually, with success and time, that chaotic impulsiveness settles and individuals specialize, undertaking tasks for which they're better suited. They like to think they function as a well-oiled machine. 

Growing larger still, new members must be initiated into the vision, methods, and history of the still-emergent institution. They too catch the spirit even as they bring new ideas and a broader vision to the dream. 

With the passage of time, larger operations, and growing success, frictions can develop as the organization compartmentalizes. Sales have their doubts about R&D who are suspicious of management which seems to be coasting on past success. But conflicts are resolved as charter members split or retire; and the mission carries on because the product is still in demand. 

Saint Luke describes an early crisis in the nascent Church as gentiles joined an essentially Jewish religion. Some of the Apostles, deeply schooled in their religious traditions, lacked vision as they welcomed non-Jews to worship the Lord Jesus. They assumed these new members would study and adopt Jewish ways; their differences would disappear into the homogenized community. 

These Jewish Christians didn't even notice that they were more attentive to the Jewish widows than the gentiles. They knew these women better, and understood both their needs and their language better. 

They didn't intend to be rude but their snub of the gentile women soon became flagrantly obvious and the growing gentile membership complained loudly about it. 

Wow! They had not expected that. They had more-or-less assumed their selfish habits were put aside during their apprenticeship to Jesus. The Holy Spirit, they supposed, had purified their hearts and focused their attentions. Without even knowing the word they enjoyed an apparent infallibility as they guided the young community. 

The conflict proved them wrong and the Spirit guided them to a deeper understanding of themselves and their mission. They must always suspect their virtue; they must always be open to criticism, even from aliens ; they must be prepared to adapt to unexpected challenges. 

And Jesus was in the boat even as "they wanted to take him into the boat." His Spirit does not fail us. Neither will it hesitate to storm our reluctance and teach us obedience. 

Friday of the Second Week of Easter

Lectionary: 271

A Pharisee in the Sanhedrin named Gamaliel,

a teacher of the law, respected by all the people,

stood up, ordered the Apostles to be put outside for a short time, and said to the Sanhedrin,

"....So now I tell you, have nothing to do with these men, and let them go. For if this endeavor or this activity is of human origin, it will destroy itself.

But if it comes from God, you will not be able to destroy them; you may even find yourselves fighting against God.”
They were persuaded by him.

In today's first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Gamaliel sounds like one of those respected legislators who used to work in the Congress. We can hope and pray there are still a few among them.

He had witnessed the terror in Jerusalem when the entire city rose up to condemn a Messiah they had welcomed five days before. Influence peddlers, using suggestions, innuendos, vague but catastrophic warnings, and (of course) money, had fomented a crisis which was resolved with crucifixion. 

The entire incident revolted responsible leaders like Gamaliel, Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and many of the leaders. Their calm, sensible warnings had been overwhelmed by a rush of urban insanity. The killing of Jesus was something like what the horrified world saw on January 6 of this year. 

Gamaliel could not have been surprised that fifty days later the disciples of Jesus were preaching throughout the city. Nothing is ever resolved by violence. He knew that. 

If he wasn't persuaded that Jesus is the Christ, he was sure that God is still in charge. He urged his colleagues in the Sanhedrin to let the Christian movement play itself out.

 

As one of those who protested America's undeclared war in Vietnam, I remember thinking that, "If Communism is such a bad idea as our leaders claim, why are we going to war against it? Won't it die of its own accord?" As it did. I was among the many satisfied to see the dissolution of the Soviet Union and the reintroduction of capitalism to Russia, eastern Europe, and China. 

There are many really bad ideas ruling our public and private lives today. Some are obviously quixotic. Abortion, trickle-down economics, the invasion of Afghanistan, gay marriage, a wall against illegal immigration, heavy reliance on fossil fuels, parody religions, Fox News, Donald Trump: to name a few bad ideas. 

We the Church have seen them come and seen them go, while the Lord remained faithful. We wait on God. 

Thursday of the Second Week of Easter

Lectionary: 270

Whoever does accept his testimony certifies that God is trustworthy. For the one whom God sent speaks the words of God. He does not ration his gift of the Spirit.

 

When Jesus speaks of “God” he refers to the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob, a very specific divine person who revealed his presence to the Jewish people. This is the God who led the Hebrew slaves out of Egypt and fed them in the desert; the God who raised a shepherd boy to rule over the new nation; who intentionally surrendered Israel and Judah to foreign invasions because of their infidelity, who sent them into Babylonian Captivity, and finally brought them back to Jerusalem.

This is a God who has shown his love by superabundant generosity and his supreme authority by protecting his chosen people against the world’s greatest armies. This God has proven himself trustworthy. 

In response, this God demands our unconditional trust in the face of hardship and disappointment. We should believe everything – good or bad -- happens according to God’s mysterious purposes. We should understand that God owes us no explanation even as we believe in God’s benevolent and watchful eye.

We should also appreciate the prophetic spirit which reveals our sins. That too is merciful for we do not want to be expelled from friendship with God.

Finally, as Jesus tells us today, this faithful God “does not ration his gift of the Spirit.” We are capable of complete trust in God despite our not knowing God’s plans for us. We are capable of astonishing generosity and stunning courage. Like the empty water jars in Cana, we are vessels which overflow with blessings when filled with the Holy Spirit – if only we trust in God.

The passion, death, and resurrection first demonstrate God’s blessings upon human fidelity, and then opens the floodgates of God’s spirit into our hearts. We could not be saved without his sacrifice; we could not know how to respond in kind without the story. 

Perhaps the greatest heresy of our time is our assumption that we can live within God’s law by simply deciding to do so. “I have the power” as one drug commercial likes to say. Actually I don’t. Without the Holy Spirit I cannot accomplish the smallest act of kindness. With the Holy Spirit I can do the impossible. Our Trustworthy God does not ration the gift of the Spirit to those who are willing to do whatever he tells you.