Exaltation of the Holy Cross

 

Nm 21:4b-9

Ps 78

Phil 2:6-11

Jn 3:13-17

 

"We adore Thee O Christ

and we bless Thee,

Because by Thy Holy Cross

Thou hast redeemed the world." 

 

Those of us who attended Lenten Stations of the Cross on Fridays while we were in parochial school have an almost Pavlovian urge to genuflect at the beginning of today’s gospel antiphon.  The only change being that it was easier to get up then than it is now.

 

The Gospel antiphon reminds us that the cross is the main support for our lives

and the life of the world. 

The antiphon reminds us: In Cruce salus.

“In the Cross is our salvation.”  It also encapsulates the Carthusian motto:

Stat Crux Dum Volvitur Orbis  “The Cross stands firm while the world revolves.”

 

Without the cross there is no Church.

Without the cross there is no salvation. 

Without the cross there ain’t nothin’.

 

The narrative of Moses lifting up a bronze serpent is remarkable when we recall that this was a people to whom graven and carved images were forbidden, a people on whom the golden calf brought down Moses’ wrath at Sinai.  But here, the image of a serpent on a pole reversed the punishment that the Lord had sent on the people as they were preparing to enter the Promised Land.

 

The Jewish Study Bible notes that, “Rabbinic interpreters were disturbed by the magical nature of this cure, and suggested that it was the glance of the afflicted to their father in heaven, rather than the snake, which resulted in the cure.” Some commentators suggest that these verses prefigure Jesus’ crucifixion.   John’s Gospel makes that connection. where we read in chapter 10: “And just as Moses

lifted up the serpent in the desert, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, so that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life.”

 

The Cross was the most shameful of all means of execution in the Ancient Near East. It was  a form of execution reserved for slaves and other dregs of humanity. 

But through Jesus’ humble obedience the cross became, and remains, the living sign of salvation venerated throughout the universe. 

 

“For God so loved the world that he gave His only Son, so that everyone who believes in Him might not perishbut might have eternal life.”These verses comprise a mine field for preachers and a stumbling block for many who confront their own deaths or the death of a loved one. 

 

In his commentary on this verse the late Jesuit Father Stanley Marrow points out that these words do not mean that one will not die.   As he puts it, “What the gospel of John proclaims . . . is “eternal life” not exemption from dying, and certainly not immortality, but the overthrow of the power of death itself." 

 

Anyone doing the Spiritual Exercises of St. Ignatius, be it in the traditional 30-day form, the 19^th Annotation, or simply returning to part of them while on an annual retreat, encounters an instruction in the first days that is referred to throughout the exercises. It is known as the triple colloquy. Ignatius instructs the one making the Exercises as follows,

 

“Imagine Christ our Lord present before you upon the cross, and begin to speak with him. Ask yourself how it is that though He is the Creator, He has stooped to become man, and to pass from eternal life to death here in time, that He might die for our sins.” 

 

After allowing a suitable amount of time for  meditating on this Ignatius instructs the exercitant to make the colloquyby asking himself or herself:

 

“What have I done for Christ?

What am I doing for Christ?

What ought I to do for Christ?”

 

This Feast of the Triumph of the Holy Cross is an ideal time to make this meditation.  Look at the cross in your room and after a suitable period of time,

ask yourself:

 

“What have I done for Christ?

What am I doing for Christ?

What ought I to do for Christ?”

 

And then after reflecting on the colloquy repeat the antiphon:

 

“We adore thee O Christ

and we Bless Thee,

because by Thy Holy Cross

Thou hast redeemed the world.”

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Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

Memorial of the Most Holy Name of Mary

 

12 September 2024

Today we commemorate The Most Holy Name of the Blessed Virgin Mary, a celebration that occurs within the octave of the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin Mary. The commemoration of Mary’s birth was on Sunday this year and thus suppressed.  Today’s memorial is a quiet commemoration with little fuss about it, no Gloria at the Mass, and a degree of flexibility with the readings. But today’s memorial  is now forever linked to the terrorist action that irreversibly changed life in the U.S.  

Mary’s yes, “May it be done unto me according to your word” a yes given at the Annunciation, changed the history of the universe.  That yes continues to echo down the universe and will echo through the universe until and beyond the end of time.  But today, September 12, 2024, we hear the echo of another sound from the past.  It was the sound of violence, destruction, and evil. It was a sound to which we shrieked NO! and then wept.

Twenty-three years ago today most of us were walking around in a catatonic state.  The full extent of the terrorists’ actions was still unravelling:  New York City, Washington, D.C. and Shanksville, PA all the sites of terrorist caused plane crashes.

Twenty-three years ago today was the first full day following the attacks.  The tally of deaths was still climbing.  The reality of the holes in the sky where the twin towers had stood was yet to fully sink in.

Twenty-three years ago today the communal shriek NO contrasted with the strange silence in airspace as in Boston, NY, D.C., and all metropolitan areas as planes were grounded. That silence was interrupted only by the sound of jet fighters patrolling the sky while the comforting roar of 747’s coming in for a landing was absent.  It was eerie. 

Millions of Americans screamed WHY?  Those screams and whys were greeted by the same eerie silence.  Those screams continue to echo twenty-three years later and the same silence follows as we await an answer. 

Good people and bad ones were destroyed in equal measure without attention to which was which.  We remain perplexed.  We continue to scream  WHY as a quarter of a century as approaches.  Only a complete fool would stand in a pulpit and give an answer to that why with blather, rambling, and assurances that people are really good.  Only unchecked hubris would permit anyone to survey the devastation and explain the why. Only the most arrogant would interrupt the silence following the blast with babble or rationalizations. 

Sometimes the only possible response to an anniversary such as this is to sit in and with the silence and listen to that silence.  If we listen closely enough we can hear Elizabeth’s salutation in today’s gospel, “blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb.” 

And then we continue to ask: WHY? and struggle with the grief and angry residue of the past 23 years.

 

________________________________________________

The icon on the wall and the cross on the altar summarize it all.  

 

 

 Fr. Jack, SJ, MD

 

 

Be Opened: Homily for the 23rd Sunday in Ordinary Time

 

Is 35:4-7a

Ps 146

Jas 2:1-5

Mk 7:31-37

 

"Then shall the eyes of the blind be opened,

the ears of the deaf unstopped.

Then shall the lame man leap as an hart

and the tongue of the dumb shall sing."

 

Charles Jennens, the librettist for Messiah, gave this verse from today's first reading to Handel, who, for his part, composed the recitative that leads into the exquisite air, "He Shall Feed His Flock." 

 

The images that follow in Isaiah's text: "streams in the desert," "rivers in the steppe" "thirsty ground becoming springs of water"—are images that promise

the same comfort and safety, beauty and peace, that Handel limned musically

when the libretto leapt from Isaiah to chapter eleven of Matthew's Gospel. 

 

It is no surprise that Isaiah's prophecy, that the ears of the deaf would be opened

and the tongue of the mute would sing was joined with today's Gospel. Jesus, the Suffering Servant, who would be buffeted and spat upon, freed the deaf and the dumb from their silent prisons and returned them to themselves

and to society. 

 

The Gospel is captivating because it describes Jesus efforts to effect the miracle. He touched the man's ears.  He spat and touched his tongue.He looked up to heaven and groaned.  Finally he said "Ephphatha."

 

This is one of the few miracle narratives in which Jesus seems to struggle

or to exert force in the battle against the evil one.

 

I'm fascinated by the description "he groaned."  Why? What did the groan sound like?  Did the tone rise, fall, or remain steady?  Was it the groan of pain, of effort, or relief?  How long did it last?

 

Of equal fascination is the question that we can ask about every healing miracle in the New Testament. What happened afterwards? We know the crowd did not obey Jesus' injunction against telling what they saw.  I imagine the grapevine overheated quickly.  Suppose there had been Twitter or the Internet. Imagine the comments and replies!

 

Nothing more is mentioned of the man.  We don't know his response to the gifts of hearing and speech.  Did he become a local celebrity or did life go on as usual?  Place yourselves in the unwritten part of the narrative.  Suppose you are the man's friend, or child, or neighbor.  Did he change?  How?  Did your relationship with him change? How? What was the effect of being able to hear the Good News of Jesus on this renewed man and to share it fluently with others?  What is the effect on you of witnessing what happened to him?

 

Several years ago I found a small book titled, The Hunted Priest on a bookshelf at the Abbey of Regina Laudis.  It is the autobiography of Jesuit Father John Gerard who ministered in Elizabethan England during the fierce persecution

that accounted for the martyrdom of many Catholics who resisted the Protestant heretics. 

 

Many of the Jesuit martyrs' names are more well known than Gerard, who was not martyred but died in Belgium at the age of 73.  They included: Robert Southwell,  Nicholas Garnet, Edmund Campion, and Brother Nicholas Owen, who was so skilled at designing and creating hiding places in homes, that some of them remain undiscovered today. 

 

Many laymen and laywomen who sheltered priests and maintained chapels in their houses for the celebration of Mass also died, oftentimes after prolonged imprisonment and dreadful torture.  

 

Gerard's autobiography is valuable because he gives a non-hysterical almost matter-of-fact description of the torture meted out to Catholics.  The details of his escape from the Tower are definitely the stuff of a Douglas Fairbanks silent film. 

 

He tells of many conversions and returns of heretics to the Church.  Many of the men subsequently entered the Society or became priests.  It appears that he

almost singlehandedly populated a monastery of Benedictine nuns in Belgium with English women he brought into or back to the Church.  Like the deaf mute in the Gospel, their ears were unstopped and their tongues were freed.  They preached the Good News in word and deed, at considerable risk to themselves and oftentimes paid for that preaching through financial penalties or with their lives.

 

Our challenge is to preach the news of Jesus crucified and risen from the dead,

no matter what.  Once our ears have been opened and our tongues loosed we must use that which has been given to usto open the ears and give sight to others.

 

The promises in Isaiah: hearing for the deaf, speech for the mute, were already fulfilled in us at the time of baptism. The Church recalls those promises and reenacts today's Gospel narrative, every time she celebrates the sacrament of baptism.  Toward the end of the ritual, in what is called The Ephphatha,

the priest touches the child's ears and mouth with his thumb and prays aloud:

 

"The Lord Jesus made the deaf hear, and the dumb speak.

May he soon touch your ears to receive his word

and your mouth to proclaim his faith

to the praise and glory of God the Father."

 

For that reason we sing with the psalmist today,

 

Praise the Lord my soul.

 

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The photos are from the Charterhouse of the Transfiguration in Vermont.  I've been doing some teaching there over the years and have been allowed a great deal of latitude with photography both in and outside the monastery itself.  

 

Fr. Jack, SJ, MD