Feast of the Visitation of the Blessed Virgin Mary

 Lectionary: 572

Shout for joy, O daughter Zion!
     Sing joyfully, O Israel!
Be glad and exult with all your heart,
     O daughter Jerusalem!
The LORD has removed the judgment against you,
     he has turned away your enemies;
The King of Israel, the LORD, is in your midst,
     you have no further misfortune to fear.

If devotion to the Mother of God seemed to ebb in the late 1960's and seventies, she never went away. The Vatican Council helped to reground our devotion to her in the Sacred Scriptures. Pope Paul VI encouraged us to pray the rosary with attention to the mysteries that were scripture based. He even suggested we might use more scripture, which spawned a mini-industry of "scripture rosaries." 

I was personally inspired by the encyclical, Mother of the Redeemer (Redemptoris Mater) by Pope John Paul II.  The Saint invited Protestant Christians to discover Mary through their devotion to the Bible. 

I heard recently of a small American town devastated by unemployment and drug abuse. The Catholic pastor invited his Protestant colleagues to join him in prayer and encouraged them to invoke the Virgin. He offered them printed prayers to Mary and Miraculous Medals, and each one grabbed a handful or more to distribute to their people. 

She has never gone away; she readily comes to us in our sorrow, grief, and disappointment. 

Mary speaks to us of God's intense, self-emptying love for us. Can a sovereign Lord of the Universe abandon the splendor, luxury, beauty, freedom, and power of Heaven to live in human squalor? From what I hear of the Game of Thrones, no one expects power-hungry men and women to ponder such a choice. 

But the Friend of Abraham, the Redeemer of Israel, has taken up residence within her body. As the Episcopal priest and poet John Donne said, 

Whom thou conceivest, conceived ; yea, thou art now

Thy Maker's maker, and thy Father's mother,

Thou hast light in dark, and shutt'st in little room

Immensity, cloister'd in thy dear womb.

Feminist theologians have also reflected deeply on her role in salvation. Gazing upon God and holding her hand, we set aside an unworthy fear to approach the Lord with a devout fear of the Lord. She reminds us that it is good to be human, despite the frailty and vulnerability of our nature. 

Today we remember the Virgin's visit to her expectant cousin, and the astonishing secret they shared. Even as armies march and emperors rule and kings wrestle for power, Mary and Elizabeth celebrate a mystery that will put an end to all that nonsense. They have heard God's battle cry, "Be still and know that I am God!" and they are quiet. 

Amid the frightening polarization of our times, as politicians exhort their zealots to fight for the putative rights to abort or to bear arms, Mary and Elizabeth invite us to gaze upon their frail fecundity and welcome the King of Heaven. In their presence we find the path to sanity and serenity. 

This world with its trouble is passing away. We can see that now. We know where we're going, and we know who's going with us. 

Monday of the Seventh Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 297

“Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you became believers?”
They answered him, “We have never even heard that there is a Holy Spirit.”

For Saint Luke and his readers, the disciples' reply to Paul's question must be astonishing. Why would anyone suppose they are Christian if they're not aware of, moved, and guided by the Holy Spirit? They are like engines without fuel, balloons without air, or salt without savor. 

But the Church has a long memory and there have been places and moments when we appeared to neglect our relationship to the Holy Spirit (or the Holy Ghost). If the Father represents the past; Jesus, the present; and the Holy Spirit, the future: we can admit we have sometimes been possessed by a fervent and misguided desire to return to the past. "How soon can we get back to normal?" we ask during critical moments. An epidemic, war, an influx of migrants, or a natural catastrophe might disrupt our routines and we want nothing more than to return to the good old days of familiar patterns and routine conversations. 

The Holy Spirit invites us to hear the Word of the Lord in this moment, whatever it might be. We must address every situation as an opportunity, and step forward boldly. The chess player who has formulated a plan of action and seen an opportunity for checkmate, but ignores the opponent's latest move, invites humiliation. But life is not a game and we can't afford to lose.

In today's passage from the Acts of the Apostles the disciples of John the Baptist hear the gospel of Jesus and immediately accept Baptism and the Anointing of the Holy Spirit. 

And when Paul laid his hands on them,
the Holy Spirit came upon them,
and they spoke in tongues and prophesied.

Beginning in 1900, millions of American Christians were jolted by an unexpected movement as they began to speak in tongues. That is, they prayed ecstatically with glossolalia, a kind of babbling like scat jazz. They found that kind of prayer joyous, reassuring, and liberating especially when they sang together. They often created harmonies and patterns without any apparent direction but experienced a deep communion with one another. 

Beginning in the 1960's, after the Vatican Council, many Catholics joined the movement and were swept along by its liberating spontaneity. Many "charismatic Catholics" rediscovered their love for the Bible and the sacraments, and especially the Real Presence of the Lord in the Eucharist. Thousands of Catholic congregations dedicated small chapels to the continual worship of the Lord and now maintain "perpetual adoration."  Even more, unable to maintain a 24x7 presence, elect one part of a weekday to adoration. 

When churches are locked against neighbors and children who steal and sell to purchase drugs, these lovers of God protect one another and the Church as they pray. 

The Holy Spirit invites us to move forward into the future even as we sit or kneel in the moment before the Real Presence of Jesus. Reassured by the One who will never leave us, we embrace ancient values once again and apply them to unprecedented situations. Locked doors open and narrow paths invite us to set out for the deep with the courage of Pope Saint John Paul II and the joyous spirit of Pope Francis. 

  

 

The Ascension of the Lord

Lectionary: 58

Jesus said to his disciples: “Thus it is written that the Christ would suffer and rise from the dead on the third day and that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem.

In the Gospel of Saint Luke, there are six references to repentance, and three to forgiveness, especially the mission of the Baptist as described by his father Zechariah:

He will give his people knowledge of salvation through the forgiveness of their sins...." 

In the Gospel's sequel, the Acts of the Apostles, we find again six references to repentance, and four to forgiveness. Clearly, there is no following of Christ without repentance for sin. 

I raised some anger when I spoke to young people of "Critical Race Theory" on Ash Wednesday. A gentleman was upset that I reminded young Catholics of our doctrine of Original Sin and that we, like our ancestors, have sinned.  He might be equally upset if I speak of this important doctrine today, on the Feast of the Ascension. If it's not in season on Ash Wednesday, I don't suppose it's any more appropriate a week before Pentecost. 

In their competition to sustain innumerable churches -- small, big, and mega -- many American churches deny the doctrine of Original Sin. Pastors do not risk naming the sins of their membership. They might rail against liberals or conservatives with the assumption that none of those despised enemies are in the building. But given the high cost of overhead, they cannot afford to denounce abortion, racism, Antisemitism, the proliferation of guns, tax evasion, environmental waste, shopping, or any local sins.  

The preachers must make their consumers feel good every Sunday morning, especially when the polarized news media hammer at all the wrongs of society. If there is money in outrage, there is also money in reassurance. (Case in point, the irate customer who heard my homily about Original Sin and CRT concluded by saying,  you "will never receive another nickel from me.") 

Renouncing the doctrine of Original Sin , these self-described patriots must espouse Manichaeism, the prehistoric but perennial heresy which splits all reality between good and evil. There is right and wrong, good and bad, light and darkness, black and white, male and female; and no gradations between them. Except in rare, passing moments of remorse, they assume. "I am good and they are bad." They being anyone who offends, hurts, threatens, challenges, or disagrees with me. The Internet so far has proven how readily people sort themselves into silos of us vs. them. I listen to those who agree with me; I despise those who don't because they are evil. Almost fifty years after Roe v Wade, neither side seems to have heard anything the other said. They agree only that the others are evil and we are good. 

The liberal response of inclusiveness, however, falls into its own silo of heresy, dismissing the reality of the Other. "We all want the same thing!" they declare, as if everyone agrees. Can one voice can speak for everyone? Actually, our disagreements run very deep and may be insoluble. 

I find hope in the willingness of our Jewish ancestors who, centuries before John the Baptist and Jesus were born, readily acknowledged their sins. "We have sinned like our ancestors; we have done wrong and are guilty." Any nation can celebrate its glorious past; (and all have!) Only God's Chosen can admit that they have sinned against their own identity as the Jews did when they saw they had violated the Covenant. As Americans do when they realize they have betrayed the self-evident truth that "all men are created equal." 

The doctrine of Original Sin confesses that "all have sinned and are deprived of the glory of God." Reminded of both our personal guilt and our inherited guilt, and grateful for the revelation, we turn back to the Lord. Without that truth, we might suppose Christ died for our sins but he didn't have to do it for me. With it, we experience another mighty work of God as grace turns me back to the Lord. 

Saturday of the Sixth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 296

A Jew named Apollos, a native of Alexandria, an eloquent speaker, arrived in Ephesus. He was an authority on the Scriptures. He had been instructed in the Way of the Lord and,with ardent spirit, spoke and taught accurately about Jesus...
He vigorously refuted the Jews in public, establishing from the Scriptures that the Christ is Jesus.

The Book of Revelation describes the Church as a city paradoxically built on a rock foundation that floats like a cloud from heaven to settle on Earth. And on the foundation "were inscribed the twelve names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb." He could not imagine a church without the apostles. There is no church without the apostolic witness. They bridge the gap to the vast number of people who never saw the Lord but believe he is the Son of God. 

Saint Luke's Acts of the Apostles serves that bridge with a historical account of how the Apostles fared after Jesus's Ascension. It finds supplemental testimony in other New Testament writings, especially Saint Paul's letters. These documents provide occasional footnotes like the names of missionary disciples, along with places and incidents that locate the testimony in what we know of secular history. The early church collected, copied, and treasured these writings for the same reason. Without the apostles and their writings we might know of the Lord, but would not know Him. With them we have a living Church.

The fascinating Saint Barnabas appears as one who had never met Jesus of Nazareth, nor heard him speak. But he knew the scriptures, the spirit of Judaism, and the baptism of John the Baptist. He and Paul supplied what Jesus's barely literate disciples could not provide, a deep, sophisticated, and critical knowledge and love of Jewish tradition. They could winnow the chaff of nonsense from the wheat of the Gospel. Without that knowledge, our link to Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob would be tenuous; and our salvation, less secure.

Modern readers, approaching the Hebrew Bible with very different critical tools, might not readily see the connections that were so apparent to Paul, Barnabas, the Evangelists, and the Patristic bishops. They might suppose, for instance, the virgin of Isaiah 7:14 who bears a child is only a young woman, and not necessarily a virgin mother. Every modern scholar knows that Saint Matthew's word for virgin was copied from the Septuaglnt. Isaiah's original Hebrew word meant maiden.  

Paul, Barnabas, Matthew, and Luke had no doubt about the prophecy nor its fulfillment in the mysterious birth of Jesus. It made perfect sense to them and was readily accepted by the universal church. If a contemporary critic throws cold water upon that reading of Isaiah, they have misunderstood the intentions of the Holy Spirit. 

All too often these critics think they can discover a spiritual thread to our first century Messiah and dismiss the rock-like apostolic foundation that is more solid than a gothic cathedral. In so doing, they dismiss the apostles as misinformed primitives while they pose as enlightened elites. Their attitude is like that of racists who suppose the African pyramids must have been built by aliens while Stonehenge was obviously built by Europeans. 

Fulfilling the commission that Saint Luke recorded -- "that repentance, for the forgiveness of sins, would be preached in his name to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem" -- the Roman Pontiff (BTW, the Latin pontis means bridge) maintains the unity of the same apostolic church of Paul, Barnabas, and the Twelve. There will always be challenges, controversy, and insatiable skepticism but the Holy Spirit still descends upon us like the dew to refresh our Petrine faith. 

Friday of the Sixth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 295

When a woman is in labor, she is in anguish because her hour has arrived; but when she has given birth to a child, she no longer remembers the pain because of her joy that a child has been born into the world. So you also are now in anguish. But I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice....

In today's gospel the Lord uses as a metaphor one of the most common, and perhaps the most important human experience; that is, the anguish of childbirth and the joy of bearing a child into the world. Clearly the man has listened to the wisdom of women and made it his own. For all the ways that men labor to create something wonderful by the work of the hands, there is no comparison to that of bearing a child. 

He applies this excellent metaphor to another human experience, that of sadness:

...you will weep and mourn,

while the world rejoices;

you will grieve, but your grief will become joy.

Somewhere, perhaps in the excitement of the Great Awakenings, Americans forgot the value of mourning. Although revival preachers harangued their congregations with unspecified accusations, they carried home an assurance of everlasting forgiveness. Nor was there need for atonement; that had been accomplished by the Lord. Enthralled by a momentary bliss, they supposed there should be no more grief or sadness. Weeping, sobbing, melting into tears, even the choke in one's throat and struggle to speak: these were not appropriate for the true believer. They cited Revelation 21:4

"He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there shall be no more death or mourning, wailing or pain, [for] the old order has passed away.” 

Somewhat isolated from the emotional swings of the Great Awakenings, Catholics have continued to grieve over the passion and death of Jesus even as we rejoice in his resurrection and ascension. We have prayers like the Stations of the Cross, the Five Sorrowful Mysteries, and the Seven Sorrows of Our Lady to remind us of the beauty and blessedness of sorrow. We begin every Mass with at least a moment of remembering our sins; and we approach the Sacrament with, "O Lord, I am not worthy..." Lent is a forty day season of grief for our sins and the sins of the whole world, followed by the joy of Easter reassurance. 

Psychological insights of the twentieth century recognize the worth of sorrow and the necessity of grief. We have learned to recognize the paralyzing symptoms of stifled sorrow, when individuals flee into obsessive excitement to avoid anguish. Counselors now encourage their clients to let it go and trust your feelings. Grief counselors rush into schools and businesses to help people deal with their losses. 

But even then they sometimes suppose that we should just get over it. People often suppose, "I dealt with that, and it's done."     

The Gospel which announces the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus teaches us that we should never forget our sorrow. We don't want to get over it; rather we learn to live with it. Even the profound sorrow of remorse over our sinful behaviors should be integrated into one's identity. Young Catholics sometimes supposed their sins were wiped away and totally forgotten by the ritual of confession, as if they never happened. Adults realize I am always a sinner, and I am loved as a sinner. 

The doctrine of the Incarnation includes the blessedness of every human experience. Whether we are mad, sad, or glad, we are beautiful in God's eyes as the Father sees us through the human nature of Jesus, and with his human eyes. Everyone must pass through many unexpected and difficult passages; we often approach them with reluctance and fear. We remember them with confusion and some disappointment. They revealed our weaknesses and failings, and we came away feeling like damaged goods. 

And we never forget the words of Jesus:

"I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice,

and no one will take your joy away from you.

On that day you will not question me about anything.

Amen, amen, I say to you,

whatever you ask the Father in my name he will give you.”  

Memorial of Saint Philip Neri, Priest

 Lectionary: 294

Amen, amen, I say to you, you will weep and mourn, while the world rejoices; you will grieve, but your grief will become joy.”

The Lord poses a riddle to his disciples in today's gospel, "“A little while and you will no longer see me, and again a little while later and you will see me.”

The Evangelists obviously thinks it's very important for it's repeated twice, and the two-word expression little while appears four times. And so we ask the Spirit, what is this little while? 

It seems like a whole slew of little whiles have passed since God's incarnate appearance among us, and a lot of history. If it weren't for our sacred memory of Jesus we might not study his life and times. Even after our study and our recognition of the common humanity we share with first century citizens of the Roman empire, it's a long time ago; and much of it is alien and impenetrably distant. I've heard it said that if a contemporary scholar of the first century could visit that time for two weeks their knowledge would expand exponentially. Many mysteries would be resolved. If it were only possible.... 

What is this little while? 

And yet the Spirit of the Lord as the disciples knew him is very near, on your lips and in your heart. Our Catholic religion presents the Lord to our astonished eyes often: "Behold the Lamb of God...!" With the eyes of faith we see his wonderful works in the sacraments first, and then in many daily signs and miracles. How many random acts of kindness demonstrate God's presence every day? And even in the worst of times? They motivate and inspire us. 

The Gospel of John describes Jesus's disciples as yet-to-be-inspired. They just don't get it. The "beloved disciple" seems to have more insight; at least he doesn't ask the foolish questions we hear from others. And when he entered the empty tomb with Peter, he saw and believed. That silent disciple is you; you are gifted with faith as you hear the Gospel proclaimed.

We understand the little while as the "already not yet" of salvation. We have the first fruits of the Holy Spirit which animates and guides and encourages us daily. We experience life differently; we read the signs of the times with an alternative perspective. We know where this is going even as we remain deeply enmeshed in this time and place. Like the Son of Mary, we are earthlings; made of the same mud and breathing the same air. Even as he was born in the fullness of his time, we are children of our time; and the first century seems a very long time ago. 

Because we belong to the Lord our values are different. We weep and mourn while the world rejoices; we grieve, but our grief will become joy soon and very soon, in just a little while.

Wednesday of the Sixth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 293

When they heard about resurrection of the dead, some began to scoff, but others said, “We should like to hear you on this some other time.”

And so Paul left them.

Elites, like those in first century Athens, like to consider themselves open-minded and willing to hear any new or good idea. But there are limits; new ideas should fit into what is already known and accepted. If they're coming from out of nowhere like a bolt from the blue or or a revelation from heaven, they're not so welcome. 

Saint Paul presented himself well in Athens. He belonged in that crowd of well-educated, sophisticated intellectuals who know how the world works and how to make it work for them. He began his address on that pleasant day in the agora with the familiar story of God creating the universe. Jews and Greeks more or less agreed on that, although the Greeks accepted it more for lack of a better explanation. Their creation story didn't include a generous god whose expression of pure goodness erupts in the appearance of beauty, life, joy, and boundless patience with ungrateful creatures. But neither were these elites unfamiliar with Jewish philosophy. Some of it made sense and some of it was appealing. 

So they went with the Apostle up to a certain point. However, when he announced that God's supreme generosity restored a crucified messiah to life and revealed him as the judge of all the living, they pulled out. This was too much. It doesn't fit; it's outlandish; and besides, we're subject to no one's judgment. 

As much as things change, they stay the same. Today's elites and their wannabes are still loath to deal with anyone rising from the dead. Or death, for that matter. Life is a cabaret, not a vale of tears. 

Paul won a few converts in Athens but he went away disappointed. Learning from the experience, he would speak simply of Christ and him crucified. He wrote to the Corinthians:

When I came to you, brothers, proclaiming the mystery of God, I did not come with sublimity of words or of wisdom. For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ, and him crucified. I came to you in weakness and fear and much trembling, and my message and my proclamation were not with persuasive (words of) wisdom, but with a demonstration of spirit and power, so that your faith might rest not on human wisdom but on the power of God.

As important as the Resurrection is, it means nothing without the Crucifixion. Perhaps this is why the Gospel accounts of Jesus's crucifixion are so detailed and the Easter appearances, so sketchy. 

 That explains also Paul's reformed method of preaching. Rather than strut and fret his hour upon the stage like an all-powerful god who created the world, he would behave like the humble Lord who was led like a lamb to slaughter. The Apostle came to Corinth in weakness and fear and with much trembling. He did not attempt to persuade but preferred to demonstrate God's spirit. 

So long as Christians are human we will feel the temptation to power. We will want to awe the gullible, coerce the uncertain, and destroy opposition. And so long as there is a Holy Spirit we will suffer humiliations like Paul's defeat in Athens. But we will also be surprised like the farmer who knows not how the grain ripens, when people flock to know Jesus Christ and him crucified. 

Tuesday of the Sixth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 292

The crowd in Philippi joined in the attack on Paul and Silas, and the magistrates had them stripped and ordered them to be beaten with rods. After inflicting many blows on them, they threw them into prison and instructed the jailer to guard them securely.

The incident in today's first reading reenacts the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus, right down to his preaching to the lost souls in hell. It is a stern but joyous reminder of the reception Christians should expect whenever they live faithfully by their Baptism. 

We see the disciples' remarkable freedom from anger and resentment as they sang God's praises throughout the night, despite their wounds and imprisonment. When the opportunity of escape suddenly opened before them, they didn't grab it for they were already free within their hearts. Why should they rush out in the middle of the night into a foreign city when they already had a place to sleep? 

But the joyful Holy Spirit directed them to reassure their jailer they were fine despite the darkness of their keep. He, in turn, took them home to bandage their wounds, feed them breakfast, and receive their gospel along with his entire household. 

The story continues beyond today's reading as Paul refused to be released secretly. He insisted that the magistrates personally come and deal with him for he was a Roman citizen. Cowed by that unexpected development, they apologized profusely and politely asked the disciples to leave. They agreed to leave after revisiting the gracious lady, Lydia, who had first welcomed them. They would not flee. Free people depart when they're ready to, and not when they're told to!

The disciples, of course, live under the authority of the Holy Spirit. They can use things of this world, like their Roman citizenship, to further the Gospel; but they are never slaves to their status or position, much less to their possessions. They move freely and lightly, unburdened even by the insult they suffered as Roman citizens. This remarkable demonstration of freedom had an amazing effect for the church of Philippi soon became an exemplary community. 

Today's reading, part of Jesus's farewell discourse in the Fourth Gospel, also speaks to us of freedom as the Lord explains his absence. 

For if I do not go, the Advocate will not come to you.
But if I go, I will send him to you.

The foolish might ask, "If the Lord has been raised up, how come we can't see him?" But we can see him in the freedom of his disciples. That is far more convincing than the bizarre appearances of a powerful man, even one who might have died and been raised up! 

We will always hear the heckles of a skeptical society. They really, really hate to be challenged by the Truth. I heard, amid the recently-roused-into-fury abortion debate, absurd interpretations of biblical stories. Opposed to the freedom of responsible adults, they hurl non sequiturs to indicate they are unwilling to engage in rational discourse. Obviously this question will not be resolved by reasonable people and the willingness to agreeably disagree. How it will be resolved remains hidden in the mind of God, but we can expect much distress before That Great Day. 

In the meanwhile, we keep the faith. We press our government officials to do the right thing; we practice integrity in our personal and public lives; and we maintain our religious practices. We never forget that it is right and just to lift up our hearts to the Lord as Paul and Silas did in their gloomy jail cell. What good will come of it we cannot tell, but it will be amazing. 

Monday of the Sixth Week of Ordinary Time

Lectionary: 291

I have told you this so that you may not fall away. They will expel you from the synagogues; in fact, the hour is coming when everyone who kills you will think he is offering worship to God. They will do this because they have not known either the Father or me. I have told you this so that when their hour comes you may remember that I told you.”

We're often reminded that we live in an historical moment without precedent. Even our youngest members tell of technological advances that occurred within their brief memory; older folks can hardly name them all. Not to mention the social and political developments. Every discipline, it seems, would rename this era by their new insights; is it the atomic age, the computer age, the social media age, the Anthropocene age, or what? 

But, amid these developments, we hear the Lord's reassuring word, "I have told you this so that when their hour comes you may remember that I told you." In fact we have seen other polarized ages when differences were irreconcilable and violence became a way of life. Our memories of pleasantly homogenized times when everyone got along, and peace and justice reigned were illusions. Every age is violent although some of us didn't know it since the mayhem was out of sight, out of mind, and directed elsewhere.

The Lord who inspired the Scriptures is entirely comfortable with controversy and polarization. Our trinitarian religion recognizes the otherness of God as the Father is not the Son and the Son is not the Father. Created in God's image, we meet that otherness whenever we meet another human being, and we feel: "This person is like me but is not like me. OMG, we're not the same!" Encountered in human affairs, otherness generates tensions that can be resolved only by the Holy Spirit.  

Governed and directed by the Spirit, disciples know a kind of certainty despite the chaotic environment. They might say, "I am where I need to be. I was sent here. I was born for this moment." 

As they "sailed from Troas, making a straight run for Samothrace, and on the next day to Neapolis, and from there to Philippi" the band of missionaries (Paul, Timothy, Luke and their companions) had complete assurance of their purpose, if not their destination. When their friendliest reception came from laundresses down by the river, they announced the Gospel to them. When Lydia, a wealthy merchant, welcomed them to her home, they went. But, a few days later, when the city elders asked them to leave, they left. Somehow they knew they were in God's hands and went as the Lord directed. 

What did it mean? Where this was leading? They did not know. They were sure only that the Lord did. 

Many of us would love to think this present tension between liberals and conservatives -- meaningless words assigned arbitrarily -- will be resolved peacefully and we'll get back to normal. But if we learned anything from the Covid Pandemic, it's that the pre-2019 normal is lost forever, as is the normal of the 1950's, sixties, and seventies. 

Only the Lord knows where this is going or when we'll arrive. If we needed to know, we'd be told. But we have been reassured, "I have told you this so that when their hour comes you may remember that I told you.”

In the meanwhile we hear another word from Scripture,

"Be still and know that I am God!
I am exalted among the nations,
exalted on the earth.”
The LORD of hosts is with us;
our stronghold is the God of Jacob. (Psalm 46:11) 

Sixth Sunday of Easter

Lectionary: 57

The angel took me in spirit to a great, high mountain and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God. It gleamed with the splendor of God. Its radiance was like that of a precious stone....

In his fourteenth psalm, Saint Francis recalled the promises of God: 

For God will secure Zion, * and the cities of Judah will be rebuilt.
And the poor will dwell there, * and will inherit Zion. 
And the descendants of God’s servants will possess it * and those who love God’s name will live in it. 

Already we are anticipating the end of the Easter season. We'll recall the Lord's Ascension next Sunday, and the coming of the Holy Spirit two weeks from today. The movable feasts will continue with Trinity Sunday and Corpus Christi, but we will have moved into Ordinary Time. 

On this Sixth Sunday of Easter the Lord promises to send the Holy Spirit. Despite his Ascension into Heaven, we will not miss the Presence of the Lord. The Presence of God -- the Jews called it Shekina -- will remain with us in the Holy Spirit. 

We'll know that Spirit in many ways, but I think especially of the Hope that compels us. Along with the seven gifts and the twelve fruits of the Holy Spirit is Hope, one of the three Cardinal Virtues. 

More than any other creature of Earth, human beings anticipate a future which may be quite unlike the present moment. Our pets never doubt that we'll feed them tomorrow, nor that they'll have a comfortable place to sleep tonight. But we know things happen; and sometimes our normal is shattered by events; and some of them could not be foreseen. 

Hope foresees and expects through the good times and the bad. Our faith recalls the teaching of ancient past: "The angel took me in spirit to a great, high mountain and showed me the holy city Jerusalem coming down out of heaven from God." 

What exactly that means no one can say. It is not as predictable as this evening's sunset or tomorrow's sunrise, nor is the image as clear as the blueprints for a new building, but Faith assures us it will be wonderful. It will be as good as, and better than, every city we have ever built, with more assurance of peace and prosperity, and more cooperation of all its citizens. 

This Holy City will be governed by the same Holy Spirit that guides us today, as each of its denizens experience the fullness of its gifts (wisdom, understanding, counsel, fortitude, knowledge, piety, and fear of the Lord); and abundance of its fruits (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control.) 

In that city we shall know the freedom of God's spirit since we, like Mary, the martyrs and all the saints, will want only what God wants. How could we want anything less than that which is right and just? 

In the meanwhile, on this sixth Sunday of Easter and the 22nd day of May in the year of Our Lord, 2022, our hope guides us to care for one another as best we can. What we should do may not be clear since every important decision is shrouded in controversy. We must continually discuss among ourselves issues of peace and justice, prosperity and security. We remember that the Holy Spirit first appeared during a meeting in the Cenacle; not to any one individual. We act as one and move together. 

We do not expect to find in this world a final solution. Every promise of a final solution is diabolical. But we work to include everyone in the political and economic systems that we have. All should have equal access to life's necessities, with ample room for its luxuries. Exclusion is violent and can lead only to disproportion of the blessings which descend like manna from heaven. There is more than enough for everyone when everyone is willing to share equally and trust one another. 

And that can be done only with the assurances of the Holy Spirit for our sins leave us anxious and worried. In today's gospel we hear the Lord's promise, 

The Advocate, the Holy Spirit,

whom the Father will send in my name,

will teach you everything

and remind you of all that I told you.

 We abide in his promise and are already joyful. 

Saturday of the Fifth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 290

They traveled through the Phrygian and Galatian territory because they had been prevented by the Holy Spirit from preaching the message in the province of Asia. When they came to Mysia, they tried to go on into Bithynia, but the Spirit of Jesus did not allow them, so they crossed through Mysia and came down to Troas.

In the last few years I took up pocket billiards and have sought occasions to practice and play the game. I also watched videos to learn about pool and its champions. I came across a video about Efren Reyes, known as "the magician," perhaps the greatest player of all time. The video compared him to Michael Jordan of basketball fame and Tiger Wood, the golf player. 

All three shared a common story: when they were playing their best games, when they were truly inspired, they could not remember particular strokes, shots, or baskets. One day recently, I had a brief experience of that. I broke the rack and shot eight balls in a row to win the game. My opponent, who is the better player, never had a turn at the table. Only when the eighth ball fell did he ask, "Did you just break and run?" I hadn't noticed! I was simply shooting each ball and sending the cue ball to its next position. 

In the Acts of the Apostles, the sequel to his Gospel, Saint Luke insists that the disciples of Jesus followed his Spirit with the same devotion and willing obedience that they had given to Jesus. Wherever the Spirit sent them, they went; when the Spirit prevented them from going to "the province of Asia" or "Bythinia," they did not go. They didn't ask why they should go here and not there. They simply did as they were told. 

On one occasion, as Saint Francis traveled with his disciple, the well-born Matteo. They came to a crossroads and, not knowing which way they should go, Francis asked the younger man to spin around like a child until he fell down. Whichever way the dizzy aristocrat fell, that's the way they should go. Matteo, despite his dignity, did as he was told. As it turned out, they arrived in a city on the brink of civil war. Francis met with the leaders of both sides, listened to their complaints, invited them to listen to one another, and the crisis was resolved. Clearly, the Holy Spirit had directed Matteo's fall and their steps. 

Our Holy Father Pope Francis has urged the Catholic Church to study and practice his Jesuit discipline of discernment. It's not a complicated process; it entails a ready willingness to do as the Lord directs without the interference of personal biases, fears, or preferences. Leave your ego at home and come with me. We ask God to conform our wills to that of the Holy Spirit, we study the choices, and follow our preferences. If we want what God wants then we'll do as God desires. Saint Augustine said it more simply, "Love God and do as you please." 

Like the Blessed Mother, we want only what God wants; we go only where the Lord sends us. We dare not put off the Lord's commands until tomorrow; not even to bury our parents first, or to say goodbye to them. Saint Mark describes the inspired nature of Jesus's ministry as he immediately went here, immediately did that, and immediately said this. There was no ego to come between himself and God's direction.  

Christians enjoy that kind of freedom; it is something the world cannot comprehend since they are driven by their fears, impulses, and desires. Sometimes we notice that the Lord of History has actually driven nations as a shepherd drives his sheep; evil spirits act like sheep dogs to hector and pester the flock into or out of the corral. But we beg God to reveal our sinful impulses and free us from all selfish egotism. Sometimes I must act in a certain way because I don't want to!  

As we travel with the disciples through the Acts of the Apostles and the Easter season we pray that we too, the Church, might be immediately and directly guided past our own fears, urges, and desires to follow the impulse of the Holy Spirit.

Friday of the Fifth Week of Easter

Lectionary: 289

The Apostles and presbyters, in agreement with the whole Church, decided to choose representatives and to send them to Antioch with Paul and Barnabas. The ones chosen were Judas, who was called Barsabbas, and Silas, leaders among the brothers... Upon their arrival in Antioch they called the assembly together and delivered the letter. When the people read it, they were delighted with the exhortation.

Except for the writing of Saint Luke we might imagine a rivalry between Antioch and Jerusalem. Antioch enjoyed status in the Roman empire; its natives were Roman citizens. The Greek-speaking city was a major transportation hub of the empire, with roads crossing east and west, north and south. It could boast of its academics and arts. Jerusalem, on the other hand, was dominated by a religious minority, given to quarreling and rebelliousness with the Roman overlords. It claimed an ancient history but that only complicated its ability to move with the times. 

Christianity was born in Jerusalem and would always look back to its spectacular birth at Pentecost, but the new religious movement found an eager welcome in Antioch. Paul and Barnabas, native sons of the Greek city, knew its culture and its people. With the go-ahead from Jerusalem the charismatic city sent missionaries across the Hellespont into Europe, to Athens, Rome, and the distant ports of Spain. 

If we imagine a rivalry between the cities, we don't find support for that theory in the Acts of the Apostles. Skeptical at first, Jerusalem embraced their distant sisters and brothers, honored their faith in Jesus, and probably suspected that many externals of their developing religion might soon be strange and unfamiliar. Gentile Christians would eat food the Jews could not stomach. They would worship in unfamiliar Greek; and then, many other languages. Their songs would reflect their beliefs about Jesus but they might repurpose old pagan melodies to fit the new doctrines. 

The Gentiles of Antioch had no memory of Jesus; he had never walked their streets or taught in their synagogues. But they had the Spirit of Jesus. That was clear. And so Jerusalem hailed them from afar and encouraged them to spread the Good News of his death and resurrection. They should enjoy the freedom of this new Way. When the city introduced the word Christian, indicating a widening rift between Judaism and the Way, Jerusalem accepted it. There was no turning back. 

Eventually the center of Christianity would settle farther west, in Rome, but Luke knew nothing of that future development. The Churches of Jerusalem, Egypt, Syria, and Byzantium would develop their own liturgical rites in their own languages even as the more dynamic Roman Catholicism spread throughout western and northern Europe, and later to the Americas, Japan, China, and the Pacific nations. Jerusalem would always enjoy its honor as the birthplace of Christianity but would have less influence on its development. 

Saint Luke's account in Acts remembers how the Spirit of God embraced both cities and enabled them to honor and trust one another. Radically different by culture, language, and history, they shared the confidence that the Lord guides the faith and its development for all time to come. 

When Pope Saint Paul VI expanded the college of cardinals from 72 to 115, elevating bishops from Africa, Asia, the Americas, and the Pacific islands, he radically altered the face of Catholicism. Its language is no longer Latin; it might be called Roman but it's universal. That is, Catholic. 

Thursday of the Fifth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 288

God made his choice among you that through my mouth
the Gentiles would hear the word of the Gospel and believe.
And God, who knows the heart,
bore witness by granting them the Holy Spirit
just as he did us.
He made no distinction between us and them,
for by faith he purified their hearts.

By the early 1970's, scholars were calling the Second Vatican Council one of the two or three most important in the history of the Church. It ranked with Ephesus and the Fourth Lateran Council and was more important than Trent. But I think the Council of Jerusalem, around 49 AD, as described by Saint Luke in the Acts of the Apostles, is the most important of all. On that occasion the surviving apostles made the critical decision to follow the Spirit's lead, accept Gentiles into full membership with few restrictions, and -- inevitably -- be separated forever from the Jewish religion. The rupture with the dominant Pharisees was irreparable. 

Saint Luke famously minimizes conflicts within the Church; he prefers to accentuate the peaceful influence of the Holy Spirit. And we have to agree with his preference as we hear of the debate among the attendees and listen to today's brief Gospel: 

Remain in my love.
If you keep my commandments, you will remain in my love,
just as I have kept my Father’s commandments
and remain in his love.

Our secular news media prefer conflict. Journalists have a pronounced aversion to peaceful discussion and harmony. "Who wants to hear about that?" they might ask. I sometimes wonder if that preference hasn't, almost magically, created the fifty/fifty stasis of the US Senate which has persisted for several years. If the Senate were divided 61/39 it would not be half so exciting. And excitement is interesting; and interesting is news;  and news is profit for the news industry. Mr. Trump captured the presidency not for his political skills or new ideas -- he had neither -- but for his ability to generate conflict. How exciting is that?

Saint Luke's news from Jerusalem is of a peaceful discussion among religious missionaries who respected, admired, and loved one another. They were all Jews and, if the gospels are to be trusted, shared the Jewish predilection for argument. But the Spirit and our Evangelical Journalist created an almost unprecedented harmony which lay the foundation for the Church of all time. So long as we remain in his love we are the Church.

The Supreme Court, by way of a negative example, is sadly demonstrating the truth of that principle with its handling of the abortion issue. In the middle of a contentious and widespread debate in 1973, the justices suddenly intervened and attempted to put an end to all discussion. Pro-abortion lobbyists were delighted; those opposing abortion were caught flatfooted. They had not felt compelled to organize and resist a procedure that seemed clearly immoral and had been illegal for as long as anyone could remember. 

Many people today, apparently including the Supreme Court Justice John Roberts, agree that the 1973 decision was premature. It was wrong -- if for no other reason -- because the decision-making process itself was aborted.

I have seen smaller groups with poor leadership make similar mistakes. In an effort to settle an uncomfortable discussion they decided for the group before the group agreed to anything. Sometimes they acted when only a bare quorum were in attendance. Sometimes they stalled till the late hours of the night and many participants had gone home. They usually acted arrogantly, presuming they knew what was best for the ignorant majority. Chaos ensued and sometimes the organization disbanded altogether. 

The process of deciding is more important than the decision. 

Democratic states and organizations often fail to respect that principle as vocal minorities shout their demands  and skillful players manipulate procedural rules. The United States might never recover from the debacle of Prohibition when a highly organized and disciplined minority foisted their vision of sobriety upon the nation. Before the law had taken effect on January 1, 1920, organized crime had created networks to meet the consumers' demand. Those networks survive to this day, providing guns, drugs, and usurious credit. No doubt, some are already prepared to exploit the demand for abortion in Republican states, with the collusion of "conservative" preachers and politicians. 

Given the consumers' demand and the market's readiness to meet that demand, the "right" to abortion will be neither suppressed nor assured by state legislatures, the federal government, or the Supreme Court. This decision must be made by a nation prepared to follow the lead of the Holy Spirit in its respect for the gift of children, the dignity of women, the sanctity of marriage, and the mystery of human sexuality.   

`

 Lectionary: 287

Remain in me, as I remain in you.
Just as a branch cannot bear fruit on its own unless it remains on the vine,
so neither can you unless you remain in me.
I am the vine, you are the branches.

"Where do you stay?" and "Stay with me:" we hear that question and that appeal throughout the Gospel of John. They are complementary themes, reflecting one another like a question and its answer. 

In the preamble, the first eighteen verses of the Gospel, we learn that "the Word was with God" and yet "he was made flesh and made his dwelling with us." Some translations say, "He pitched his tent among us," recalling the tent of meeting where Moses placed the Ark of the Covenant. 

The Son of God always abides in his Father's presence. Even in his moment of agony when he seems infinitely far from the God and cries, "Why have you abandoned me?" we recognize the doubt that responds with more intense faith. We've all been there, wondering if God is with us and answering our own anguish with prayer. 

In the same first chapter of John we hear two men ask Jesus, "Where do you live?" and his invitation, "Come and see." When Pontius Pilate asked Jesus the same question, he heard nothing. Not everyone is invited; not everyone hears the summons or accepts the invitation. 

You and I have. 

"Don't stop praying!" my spiritual director advised me many years ago as I agonized over my compulsive behaviors. I was deeply discouraged and wandering like a lost sheep in the wilderness. Publicly my behavior was acceptable although my spirit was not. Privately, I was foundering and yet I continued to pray. 

Sometimes it helps to ask my heart, "What did you expect?" I have to retreat into my sadness and recall the attitudes and ambitions that brought me to this present moment. Did I expect success and find failure? Did I expect gratitude and meet indifference? Did I plan on a series of events that were not meant to happen? Don't I deserve better than this? 

The answer to any question will be the same, "Here I am, Lord." As will God's reply, "I am still here." 

We bear fruit. We're never too sure how that happens. Sometimes we do ordinary things and people think they're heroic. More often we show up and no one is surprised, or even impressed. We do whatever is necessary. Sometimes we take charge; sometimes we follow  others' lead. It really doesn't matter who does it; just so it gets done. 

What matters is the Lord is here. He has pitched his tent among us. 

Tuesday of Fifth Week of Easter

 Lectionary: 286

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give it to you. Do not let your hearts be troubled or afraid.

Conversion to the way of Christ entails a conversion, or redefining, of everything we once knew of life. We often use words like peace, freedom, obedience, fear, and joy but when the world hears us speak of these things they have no conception of our meaning. 

To their horror, we are delighted by the spirit of obedience and enchanted with the fear of the Lord. We find little satisfaction in the pleasures they pursue but delight in the companionship of saints and angels.  

We know what the Lord has revealed to us for truth comes through revelation, while facts are only discovered, discussed, and sometimes discarded. As we ponder revealed truths over the course of centuries we define the doctrines of our faith with neologisms like trinity and consubstantial, while the world rapidly assembles its facts into theories. These constructs are useful until they're not -- Does anyone remember phrenology? -- but our doctrines are assured until the Judgement Day when human words will fail and sacraments will pale like candles in the morning sun. 

The world will readily fight and kill to defend it its theories like capitalism and communism and its vague ideas of freedom. But our martyrs kill no one; under God's inspiration, they choose to suffer rather than surrender their fidelity. Even lesser teachings like abstaining from pork, the sanctity of marriage, and the Real Presence in the Eucharist have inspired men and women to accept the penalty of death. They must "obey God rather than men." 

During this extended season of Easter, as we prepare for the great revelation of Pentecost, we ask the Lord to convert and redefine the words we use so readily. We want to know their true breadth and length and height and depth within the context of eternity. We do not ask for more facts and better theories. Rather, we ask for deeper conviction in the truths revealed by faith; and that these convictions might guide our thoughts, words, and deeds at every moment of the day.