Just a Closer Walk With Thee: Homily for the 3rd Sunday of Easter

 Acts 2:14, 22-33

Ps 16:1-2,5,7-8,9-10,11

1 Pt 1:17-21  

Lk 24:13-35

 

“Then Peter stood up with the Eleven, raised his voice and proclaimed . . . . “

 

Is this the same man who denied Jesus three times? Is this the same man whose incomprehension provoked Jesus to say, “Get behind me satan?”  Is this the Peter, who swore he did not know this Jesus of Nazareth now proclaiming that He is risen from the dead?  

 

Peter, whose nerve failed him at the first hint of threat, is now professing Jesus as the one  of whom David spoke.  Fearful of being known as one of His disciples 

while huddled around a fire in the courtyard of the Chief Priest during Jesus' trial, 

Peter is now preaching what, to many ears, was blasphemy. He was telling all who could hear that Jesus had risen from the dead.  Talk about a makeover! What did Peter look like as he made these bold and dangerous statements? What was his body language?  He probably did not resemble the cowering man in courtyard who said, “I do not know Him.”  Something fundamental had changed.  The change was not subtle. Peter was taking an enormous risk when he spoke the way he did. Now guided by the Holy Spirit it is obvious that Peter understood that which he had failed to comprehend earlier.  

 

The scene is expertly set for contemplation.  One can sense the men's despondency. Their weariness is palpable. There are hints of disbelief and fear 

as they make seven mile journey from Jerusalem.  Are they walking away from Jerusalem because their hopes have been destroyed?  Are they retreating because Jesus was not the Messiah of their dreams?  What were they “conversing and debating” about?  Conversing is a neutral word but debating suggests disagreement and attempts by each to change the other’s mind.  

Who was winning?   

 

They became silent when Jesus appeared. They were shocked that the stranger 

was not aware of the events in Jerusalem. Like the entire Jewish nation the two disciples had hoped for the Messiah.  Many of those hopes were driven by the politics of the day; and by Israel's desire to be free of the yoke of Roman domination.  They hoped that the one of whom David spoke would be a perfect combination of military leader, super-politician, and social reformer.

 

We want all of that today, but we also want the one of whom David spoke 

to have a sufficiently relaxed moral compass that would enable him endorse any course of action no matter the fundamental wrongness of the act.  

Anyone who calls out the wrongness of abortion, killing the sick elderly, or the evil of preparing children for so-called sex reassignment is castigated by some as being non-Christian and lacking in love. 

 

Jesus fulfilled none of Israel's expectations or demands.  Jesus will fulfill none of those expectations today.  Given that he seemed to be apolitical it is ironic how often Jesus’ message is politicized and twisted to promote a particular agenda. 

 

One of the disturbing pronouncements of today is the thunderbolt judgment: 

"You cannot call yourself a Christian if you do not  . . . . . .  (fill in blank with  pet agenda)."  This kind of statement is breathtakingly manipulative. 

 

Jesus was not the Messiah Israel wanted.  He was the Messiah Israel needed. 

Jesus is not the Christ we want Him to be; He is not the Messiah we try to force Him to be in our attempts to remake God in our own image.  He is the Christ we need, but we are unwilling to allow him to be that Christ. 

 

When we pray we are on the road to Emmaus.  In prayer we are able to recognize the One who joins us along the way.  We continually meet Him on the road though we may not recognize Him at first.  We encounter Him in a particular 

and intimate manner every time we partake of the Eucharistic Feast, in the breaking of the bread.  

 

Recall the dialog just before communion as the Sacred Body and Blood of Our Lord are elevated above the altar. 

 

"Behold the Lamb of God, 

Behold Him who takes away the sins of the world. 

Blessed are those who are called 

to the supper of the Lamb." 

 

And attend to the response you give.

 

"Lord, I am not worthy that you should enter under my roof, 

but only say the word and my soul shall be healed."

 

He is Risen.  He is truly Risen.  Alleluia, Alleluia. 

 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hpjf_t5tU9w

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The photos are from Loyola, Spain in 2019 (last time I was out of the country).  

Tabernacle at the main altar in the basilica. 

The chapel in which we had daily Mass during the conference. 

A stone staircase leading to the basilica. 

Graveyard on the grounds. 

Gate to another part of the graveyard. 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

2nd Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy)

Acts 2:42-47

Ps 118:2-3, 13-15, 22-24

1 Pt 1:3-9

Jn 20:19-31

 

The Second Sunday of Easter, has been known as Divine Mercy Sunday 

since its formal promulgation by St. John Paul, II on 5 May 2000, five days after he canonized St. Faustina Kowalska.  The juxtaposition of this feast and the readings for the Second Sunday of Easter is fortuitous.  Faith, Love, and Divine Mercy, are all included.  

 

When preaching on these readings it is tempting to focus on Thomas, or Doubting Thomas as he is colloquially known. But to do so would miss the deeper meaning of these readings and their interrelationship.  Today’s readings are not about doubt.  They are about faith.  Faith is not the opposite of doubt.  Mature faith must always contend with doubt throughout life, sometimes more and sometimes not so much.  Faith cannot mature without struggling with doubt. 

 

The first reading describes the earliest coming together of the Church.  “They devoted themselves to the teaching of the apostles and to the communal life, 

to the breaking of bread and to the prayers.”  That is what we do at Mass:  communal hearing of the Gospel and recitation of  prayers as we prepare for the Eucharistic Banquet at which we receive the True Body and Blood of our Lord.  Note the description of that earliest congregation,  “They ate their meals with exultation and sincerity of heart, praising God.”  We are to imitate them in that. 

 

The second reading shines a bit of light on the Gospel:  “Although you have not seen him you love him.  Even though you do not see him now yet believe in him 

you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy.”  Peter’s letter describes a joy 

that is the same as that described in the first reading, a joy that is nourished and sustained by participation in this our Eucharistic feast.  

 

It is reasonable to suspect that in the period between the apostles telling Thomas 

that Jesus had appeared to them and Jesus' actual appearance when he was present, Thomas continued to love the Jesus with whom he had cast his lot. Just as is true of the love we maintain for a deceased parent or friend,   Thomas' love for Jesus did not die on the cross but it was difficult for him to believe, to have faith, that He had risen from the dead. 

 

Periodically we must ask ourselves, what is faith?  The definition of faith in the Letter to the Hebrews is unsurpassed, “Now faith is the conviction of things not seen.”  In his Letter to the Romans Paul reminds us that,  “Faith comes from what is heard and what is heard comes by the preaching of Jesus Christ.”  

 

Jesus’ preaching does not come to us exclusively in the oral form as it did in the Sermon on the Mount or the many parables.  Jesus’ preaching comes to us in scripture, in the tradition of the Church, and in the reception of the sacraments. 

The first two readings are important because they tells us what it means to be a Church, what it means to be a people of faith, and what we can expect.  The gospel tells us something different though complementary

 

A superficial reading of the Gospel's portrayal of Thomas supplies us with a tempting target.  Indeed he is too easy a target because Thomas becomes someone against whom we can compare ourselves in a self-righteous way.  He can be used to compare and condemn others whose faith we do not feel is adequate. Calling someone 'a doubting Thomas' is generally not a compliment. 

This comparison too is usually made from the position of smug self-righteousness.  

 

At the end of the Gospel Jesus asks a question and gives a blessing, “Have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seenand yet believe.”  It is worth pondering that in relation to ourselves.  

 

Neither John’s Gospel nor the synoptic gospels were meant to be albums with verbal snapshots of detailed scenes from Jesus' life.   The gospels are not a log book that trace Jesus' daily movements or a diary of Jesus’ day-to-day thoughts. 

The gospels  are not history in the modern sense of the word. Any attempt to read them through the lens of modern historical convention is doomed to failure and perhaps high comedy.  We can never interpret the gospels in the light of the modern concepts of history, journalism, and science without frustration and faithlessness. Nor can we interpret them through the lenses

of modern ‘isms’ and ‘ists.’ 

 

The last sentence of this Gospel reading puts the nature things into perspective: Now, Jesus did many other signs in the presence of his disciples that are not written in this book.  But these are written that you may come to believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that through this belief you may have life in His name.” 

 

The Gospel proclaims one essential truth, that Jesus of Nazareth, of whom it speaks, is the Lord.  Thus, the fullness of Easter joy is contained in Thomas’ faith-filled, startled, and ultimately joyous proclamation:  "My Lord and My God."  

 

It is why we too can gaze upon the True Body and Blood of Christ at the consecration in a few minutes and say with Thomas and all the Church,

“My Lord and My God.” 

 

"Give thanks to the Lord, for he is good,  his love is everlasting."

 

Alleluia, alleluia 

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The photos are from Ljubljana, Slovenia on Divine Mercy Sunday 2017.  The celebration was long, complicated, and involved Mass, exposition, procession, and long long confessional lines.  If I spoke Slovenian I'd probably still be sitting there.  Hours.  

The Mass was presided by the Archbishop of Ljubljana.

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Holy Thursday

 Holy Thursday 

6 April 2023

 

Tonight we celebrate a night unlike any other in the history of the universe.

 

Paul described the reason for that uniqueness in his First Letter to the Corinthians

when he wrote of how Jesus took bread, broke it, and said, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”  And how He then took the cup and said: 
“This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this in remembrance of me.”

 

Hoc facite in meam commemorationem

 

“Do this in memory of me.”

 

We will hear those words shortly at the end of the consecration recalling, in a particular way, that Passover meal two millennia in the past. 

 

With this Mass we begin an unbroken liturgy of fifty hours during which the sign of the cross, the sign that signifies the beginning and end of all liturgies, will not be made again until the final blessing at the vigil Mass on Saturday night.  

 

During these three days we enter into a liturgy of silence, a unique and special silence, that is more than simply the absence of external sound. It is a silence that is, in fact,  enhanced and deepened by sound.  The chant. The prayers. The sounds of movement as we stand, sit, and even the occasional cough create the silence of this triduum.  

 

During these three days we ideally enter into an internal silence as well, a silence in which we push the gotta’, wanna’, haveta’, internal conversations to the side.  We enter into a silence of not thinking ahead or behind but a silence of remaining in the present moment. It is a Triduum of silence:  the silence following Jesus’ agony in the garden, the silence of the sealed tomb, and the silence described in Holy Saturday’s second reading in the breviary 

 

“Something strange is happening—there is a great silence on earth today, a great silence and stillness. The whole earth keeps silence because the King is asleep.”

 

Enter into the silence.  Embrace it.  Allow it to envelop you.  It is the silence described  by Robert Cardinal Sarah of Guinea who wrote in his book, The Power of Silence,  "Silence is not an absence.  On the contrary, it is the manifestation of a presence, the most intense of all presences." Remain with that presence over the next three days. Remain there to prepare for the great celebration of Our Lord’s Resurrection.

 

 

Homily for Wednesday of Holy Week

Mt 26:14-25

5 April 2023

 

" . . .but woe to that man by whom the Son of Man is betrayed.
It would be better for him had he never been born."

 

We know how Judas' story ended.  Were we to read the next chapter of Matthew's gospel we would be reminded of how Judas burst in on the officials and admitted he had betrayed an innocent man.  This is followed by the chilling words, "And throwing down the pieces of silver . . . he departed; 

and went and hanged himself."

 

Place yourself in the room. Become a bystander or a servant. Or one of the elders. Or the doorkeeper. Observe the scene. The door slams into the wall.  Judas pushes his way through the crowd. What does his face look like?  How does his voice sound?  What do you feel as you observe the scene? Annoyed?  Confused?  Frightened?

 

The thirty pieces of silver clank on the floor scattering all over the place. Judas flees. Without thinking you follow him out of the room.   The look on his face scares you.  You want to say something—anything.  You try to follow him but he is moving fast. You try to catch up, but you have to rest and get your breath.  You start to move again, trying to catch up with him but your legs are turning to lead and your breathing is getting difficult. And then in the distance you see his silhouette.  He is standing on a tree stump. A rope is tied to a tree branch. The noose is around his neck.  You try to scream . . . DON’T!  

 

Before the scream can form he leans forward. The stump rolls away. It is over.  

 

The sun is setting.  The breeze is picking up. You wrap your cloak tight against the chill wind.  Judas’ body swings from the branch.  You slowly retrace your steps into town. 

 

The tragedy is more than Judas betraying Jesus.  Peter also betrayed Jesus.  The tragedy is that, unlike Peter,  Judas could not imagine being forgiven by the one against whom he had sinned.

 

We will never know what drove Judas to betray Jesus. But we can wonder. Some scholars suggest Judas had become disillusioned with Jesus. Like many others, and too many today, Judas expected and wanted a political Messiah, a militant and military Messiah to lead the Jewish people from under Roman occupation.  Or they wanted a social justice Messiah rubberstamping any cause no matter how immoral. 

 

Did Judas kill himself in despair for having betrayed Jesus?  Did he kill himself because he too was betrayed? Because he realized he'd been played like a cheap guitar by those who had hired him? Or did he kill himself because he thought he could never be forgiven by the one whom he had betrayed?  Matthew described one of scripture’s great tragedies, the tragedy of Judas' despair.  A tragedy too common in many lives today. 

 

A few years ago I found a small battered book of daily meditations. Originally written in French it was translated into English in 1868.  It had been well-used by previous owners. The meditation on the story of Judas gives sound advice even today. "Never let us count on help, sympathy, or respect, from those whom we have served against our own conscience and against the law of God."  Then the anonymous Jesuit writer gets to the heart of the tragedy: "Judas' belief that his crime was unpardonable was disbelief in God . . .”  When he believed his sin could not be forgiven Judas stopped believing in God. It was then that despair drove him to violent suicide.

 

Standard dictionaries define despair as loss of hope.  However it is more complex than that. One theological source defines despair as the voluntary and complete abandonment of all hope of saving one’s soul,  the voluntary abandonment of hope in salvation, and the intentional denial of the meaning of Jesus’ saving act. Despair is not passive. It requires an act of the will to give up hope of eternal life.  Despair whispers in our ear that God will not pardon our sins.  And, like Judas, we believe that whispered message. We can only pray that despair never controls us, no matter what, no matter when, no matter why.  

 

As we ponder Judas' action we recall Jesus’ words on the cross: “Father, forgive them for they know not what they do.”  Yes, we are sinners.  But, we are sinners loved by God who pardons our sins when we acknowledge them, confess them, and ask absolution from them. 

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The Wednesday of Holy Week is sometimes referred to as Spy Wednesday as the gospel designated for today details Judas' preparing to hand Jesus over. Judas' story that continues on in Matthew's gospel is both tragic and fascinating. It i too often repeated today in various ways.

The photo is from Sevenhill, South Australia. We were there until Palm Sunday. The cross for the veneration on Good Friday was prepared in the loft. It is a solemn moment as the cross is carried in procession and uncovered in three phases to the chant: Behold the wood of the cross on which hung the Savior of the World, chanted a tone higher each time. Will be barefoot during this.

I will be heading out in a few hours to spend the next several days at the Abbey of Regina Laudis, a monastery of cloistered Benedictine nuns to ceebrate or concelebrate the liturgies. Eager to get there so as to enter into the unique silence of Holy Week.

Homily for Palm Sunday

The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

The most horrifying words ever written.

The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ

The most consoling words ever proclaimed.

On Thursday

we will commemorate the institution

of the great gift of the Eucharist.

On Friday

the Passion will be proclaimed again.

All will lead up to the wild joy of the Easter Vigil.

But today we leave this chapel

weighed down by the echo of the words:

The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

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Will be at a monastery of cloistered nuns to celebrate the Triduum liturgies beginning Tuesday to Monday. Looking forward to the silence and solitude which can be as much as I wish until Sunday after Mass when I meet my sister for lunch.

The photo is from about 12 years ago in Taiwan. Had just arrived the previous day but despite jet lag, and it was fierce, I joined the parish to go to a day of recollection at an indigenous village to the south. Wandered around with camera during the picnic and shot. This was definitely a keeper.

Fr.Jack SJ, MD