"Where, O Death, is Thy Sting?"

 Easter Sunday

Inside Jesus' empty tomb

    According to the Michigan Vital Records, 115,408 people died in the year 2020 from causes including cancer, heart disease, COPD, stroke, pneumonia and flu, septicemia, and COVID-19 (this is probably not the way you thought the homily for Easter was going to begin, is it?).  Two of those deaths in 2020 were my grandfathers, Jesse Perez and Fred Strouse, Sr.  Twenty-seven other deaths were parishioners at St. Pius X parish.  Perhaps others were family or friends of yours.  
    I haven’t seen a number, but I have to believe that the amount of money spent on pills, creams, liquids, etc. to prolong life is a staggering amount of money.  After all, living is certainly better than dying.  And those who disagree, tend to overwhelmingly be the kind of people who are still alive (dead people tend to not respond to surveys).  
    Our bodies, too, are equipped for life.  Parents are quite good at calling the bluff of children who say that they’re going to hold their breath until they die, because parents know that, if a child did actually try to stop breathing, eventually the body will go into autopilot, restart, and get you breathing again.  While I can’t point to any science, I remember learning somewhere that the last parts of your body to shut-down, should you be in a very cold environment, are those that deal with life, especially the brain, heart, and lungs.  We are hard wired for life.  There’s even a phobia for death: thanataphobia.  
    But as Catholics, we should not fear death.  Now, to be clear, I’m not saying we should go looking for it, either.  We should not embrace euthanasia nor seek to end our own life.  But today makes everything different for us.  Easter changes our perspective on death.
    Easter, in case we have forgotten over the years, is the celebration of Jesus rising from the dead.  Jesus was truly dead; it wasn’t a trick, it wasn’t an illusion.  Jesus was dead.  But three days later, He came back to life.  There were witnesses to this, including St. Mary Magdalene, the first to see the risen Christ, St. John the Apostle, who was there at the cross when Jesus died, and a few others.  What will become clear in the Gospels over the next few weeks is that no one expected the Resurrection to happen.  This wasn’t some group psychosis from people who wanted something to be true.  If the Gospels tell us anything about the expectation for the Resurrection, they make clear that expectation didn’t exist.  If the apostles thought that Jesus was coming back, why were they amazed at the empty tomb?  Why be amazed when He appeared on the road to Emmaus, in the Upper Room, and to many others, not the least of whom was St. Paul on the road to Damascus.
    And yet, despite the disciples’ lack of hope in the Resurrection, they all say He rose.  And Jesus Himself, as we hear in the Easter Gospels, will prove that it’s Him by the wounds on His body, and by eating with them.  And from that point on, for those who believe, death has not seemed that remarkable.  
    This is not to say that death is not sad, or to make light of it.  I still can get tears in my eyes from people I’ve loved who have died.  Perhaps as a priest the waves of grief are more common, and yet less strong, because I help families grieve a death on a regular basis.  But it hurts not having a loved one around anymore.  I’ve recently tried my hand at making Spanish rice that my grandmother used to make when she was alive.  I’ve gotten decent, but it’s not the same, and there’s a certain frustration in not being able to taste it how she made it.
    But Jesus’ Resurrection is not a story from 2,000 years ago that stays in the past.  It is meant to inform our present, as well.  Jesus conquering death means that death is not the end, and we do not have to have thanataphobia, the fear of death.  Jesus’ Resurrection paves the way for ours, as well, and changes the way we look at death.  It’s possible that we can go to heaven, because Christ has shown us the way.  Through the gift of self to the Father, through laying down one’s life for one’s beloved, through following Jesus with all of who we are, death becomes a transition from this life to the life to come.  
    Again, I’m not saying that we can be reckless with life.  I wear my seatbelt; I don’t play in traffic; I don’t only eat junk food; I go to the doctor; etc., etc.  I don’t take life lightly, but I try not to give death more than its due.  Our hope in the resurrection is not only meant to help us feel better about loved ones who die.  Our hope in the resurrection is meant to give us courage to live the radical life Jesus calls us to, a life lived entirely for Him.  What gave the martyrs the ability to suffer horrible torments of body?  At the end of the day, the worst anyone could do is make them die, and death wasn’t so terrible, because Jesus had risen from the dead.  The worst that Roman officials, and barbarian kings, and tribal warriors, and heads of state, and Nazi and Communist guards could do had already been done, and Jesus had conquered it.  
    As followers of Jesus we are not to take life lightly.  We are to value and treasure every human life, and work to promote its growth and development in virtue and faith and love.  Death is not a fate to be avoided at all costs, something for which we would give up anything.  Death, as part of God’s will and according to His plan, is another part of the life that God has told us will go on forever, hopefully in heaven.  
    How does not fearing death change you today?  What do you do differently if death is conquered and has no more power?  How does Jesus’ Resurrection, which we celebrate today and every Sunday, make you live for Him?

Entrance to the empty tomb in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, Jerusalem

The Whole Story

 At the Easter Vigil in the Holy Night of Easter
    Then Prince Charming kissed Snow White, she awoke, and they lived happily ever after.  Imagine for a second that was the only part of the story that you focused on, or that was told.  We’ve probably heard or watched the story of Snow White so many times, that we could tell it without any trouble.  But maybe there are some parts we forget, or that we pass over because we don’t find them important.  And in passing over them, we miss out on the importance of the ending.
    We just sat through the Reader’s Digest version of Salvation History, especially concerning the Paschal Mystery of the Lord.  We have probably heard some of these stories before, but how well do we remember them?  And these aren’t fairy tales.  These are part of God’s revelation that tell us how to get to heaven.  These are the accounts of just how much God loves us and how we worked from our very beginning to save us from sin and death.  These are the accounts which foreshadowed what Jesus would suffer, and how He would be raised from the dead.  
    But so often we just focus on the end.  All we hear (or want to hear) is: Then Prince Charming kissed Snow White, she awoke, and they lived happily ever after.  But we miss out on just how powerful Jesus’ Death and Resurrection were if we don’t hear the story that led up to it.  
    In Genesis we heard two accounts: the Creation of the Universe and the (almost) sacrifice of Isaac.  We heard the story of how God created the world, and created all things good, not out of any necessity, but simply because He willed to create.  We heard the story of how God asked Abraham to sacrifice his only son, his beloved son, and how Isaac had to carry the wood for the sacrifice up the mountain on his back, and was willing to lay down his life simply because his father, Abraham asked.  
    As we celebrate tonight, we know that God has recreated the world.  On this first day, when God created light, the light of the Resurrection, symbolized by the light of the Paschal Candle and the lights that grew from it as our candles were lit, shines forth.  As we celebrate tonight, we know that, while God stopped Abraham from sacrificing Isaac, even though Isaac was willing to be sacrificed by his father, God did not stop the sacrifice of His Son, His Beloved, Jesus, who was also willing to be sacrificed.  And if that faith of Abraham was what made him righteous, so the sacrifice of Jesus has now justified us all, and allowed us to become the children of Abraham, and even the children of God by adoption in His Son.
    Tonight we heard how the Chosen People passed from slavery to Pharaoh through the Red Sea and came out from the other side as truly free people on their way to the Promised Land.    Tonight, we celebrate how God truly led us from slavery to Satan to our path to freedom to Heaven, which the Promised Land foreshadowed.  By going through the waters of baptism, by dying with Christ in those waters, we rise to new life.  We’re not there yet; we’re still on the road to the Promised Land, but we’ve been set on the right path, and the danger of Satan can be behind us, no longer to oppress us, if we live as God’s People.
    Tonight we heard the prophecies of Isaiah who told us that God is our husband, who loves us.  Though it looked for a while like God abandoned us, He will never leave us or stop loving us.  He has drawn us back to Himself and given us treasures beyond value.  God has called us to the waters that satisfy, and invited us to seek Him while He can be found.  His Word will have its effect.  Tonight we celebrate that our Bridegroom, Jesus, has given us His all, as every husband is called to do, even to the point of death.  It looked like He left us, like He wasn’t the Messiah we hoped He would be, but the Father raised Jesus up, not only the fulfillment of our hope, but going far beyond what we ever could have hoped for.  God has given us the living waters of baptism to truly quench our thirst, and we are invited to seek after God to find the justification we desire.  God’s Word has its effect, and is already transforming the world to be more like what He created it to be.  
    Tonight we heard from the Prophet Baruch, who encouraged us to seek after the wisdom of God.  And the Prophet Ezekiel told of how God let us see the consequence of following other so-called gods, but will bring us back to the Promised Land and give us a new heart and a new spirit, so that we can live by His decrees.  Tonight we celebrate that in the suffering of Jesus, we saw what our sins deserved, how not following the wisdom of God leads to death.  But in the rising of Jesus, we received a new heart and a new spirit, through the waters of baptism being poured upon us, cleansing us of all past impurities, to that we can live according to the wisdom of God.
    

Resurrection tapestry from the Vatican Museums

And that led us to the joyful proclamation of the angel, appearing like a young man, who announced that Jesus is not dead, but has been raised, and has gone before us.  Again, this is new beyond all hope, because the ancient sentence of death, given to us from our disobedience in Adam and Eve, had been executed, but not upon us, and so we are free from that guilt because Jesus took that guilt and punishment upon Himself.  The new creation, new life, freedom from slavery, the love of God, the waters of life, the wisdom of God, and a new heart and new spirit God promised in the Old Testament are all ours, if we receive as our own what Jesus won by His Passion, Death, and Resurrection.  
    That’s the bigger picture.  That’s a larger piece of the story.  And that larger story helps us to understand the Resurrection.  Because we have heard the story, the ending is all the much sweeter: “‘You seek Jesus of Nazareth, the crucified.  He has been raised.’”  Now that’s a way to live happily ever after!

"The Lord was pleased to crush him in infirmity"

 Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion

Calvary, where Jesus died

    “But the Lord was pleased to crush him in infirmity.”  As we come to this Good Friday that was, at its face value, anything but good, this line can echo in our hearts and minds.  “But the Lord was pleased to crush him in infirmity.”  Why?  Why was God the Father pleased to crush Jesus?  Why let Jesus undergo the cruel agony of the crucifixion: the unspeakable pain as nail pierces flesh; the utter humiliation of being naked on the cross; the gasps for breath as His lungs filled with fluid?  This seems too cruel for the one Jesus told us would run out to meet us when we had been prodigal, wasteful, with our inheritance; for the one who goes after the one sheep who has gone astray while leaving the other ninety-nine.  It almost seems sadistic.  
    We have no doubt that this was the Father’s will.  How can we be so sure?  Because it happened.  God the Father never allows anything to happen that is outside His will.  We hear this in the Gospel of John time and time again, when the authorities want to arrest Jesus, but He always seems to slip past them, until the Garden of Gethsemane.  Perhaps it wasn’t God’s original plan.  The great Catholic author and liturgist, Msgr. Romano Guardini, speculates that the desire of God was for the Chosen People to accept Jesus as the Messiah, in which case perhaps God could have saved us in another way.  But God, who stands outside time and could see what would happen because it is as the present to Him, knew that Jesus would be rejected, and would have to die the terrible death we enter into today.
    But why?  We can know that God allowed it, but the question still remains.  Why?  The only answer to that question is that God loves us.  We heard it in John 3:16: “For God so loved the world, that He sent His only Son, so that whoever believes in Him might not perish, but might have eternal life.”  God’s love for us was so strong, that not even the threat of annihilation could hinder it.  We know Jesus struggled in His human nature, as anyone would, to embrace what looked like defeat, and what was certainly going to be painful.  But Jesus, the Icon of the Love of the Father, could do nothing other than express that Love which He is by the shedding of His Precious Blood, the Blood of a truly unblemished Lamb.  
    Did we deserve love?  No.  A million times no.  But God loved us anyway.  How many times had we broken our covenant with God at the point of the crucifixion?  How many times would the members of God’s Church continue to break it afterwards?  And yet, God loved us anyway.  We all have been the unfaithful spouse in the marriage covenant with our Divine Spouse.  But God did not divorce us; He didn’t walk away.  He loved us more, giving not just His exhortations and example to return to that love, but even giving His Blood, even giving His last breath out of love for us.  As the hymn sings, “What wondrous love is this!”
    What is our response to that love?  What is our response to that gift of all gifts, the gift that can never be fully repaid, a gift which we have no right to receive, but which God offers us anyway?  If your husband brought home a winning Powerball ticket worth hundreds of millions of dollars, what would be your response?  If your wife told you that she had just inherited a Caribbean island with a mansion, the plane to fly there, with unlimited fuel to power the plane, and unlimited food and drink, what would be your response?  This gift is better than both of those combined, times infinity.  
    And yet, we still cry out–by our lack of love towards each other, by our spiteful words, by our lack of desire to spend time with Jesus, by our disobedience to God’s law–“Crucify him!  Crucify him!”  We still pound in those nails each time we sin.  We still pierce His side when we decide that something, anything, is better than spending time with Jesus in the Mass just for one hour once or twice per week.  
    “But the Lord was pleased to crush him in infirmity.”  God the Father knew, as only He could, that this was the only way for salvation to truly be accomplished.  This was the only way to prove just how much He loves us.  And though the cost was great; though the agony was beyond that of any other person, since no other person was Life Incarnate; though all but a few gave in to cowardice and wouldn’t even be with Him in the last moments, God the Father allowed His Son to die; Jesus willingly, lovingly accepted death.  As we come to venerate the Cross: remember what Jesus did for love of you; remember how you have led Jesus here; remember the love we have rejected by our sins.
    But also remember: God loves us anyway.

Food for the Journey

 Holy Thursday–Mass of the Lord’s Supper

    When many Catholics today talk about Last Rites, they think of the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick.  But when the Church talks Last Rites, she talks about the Sacrament of Penance, the Apostolic Pardon, the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick, and Viaticum, or Holy Communion for a person on the way to death (Viaticum is a smash-up of the words meaning “on the way with you).  We were taught in seminary that when a person is seriously ill, they are to be anointed.  When a person is certainly (barring a miracle) not getting better, the priest may anoint again, but certainly offers Viaticum (and Viaticum can also be offered by a deacon).  In the Church’s mind, the last sacrament a person should receive on earth is the Body of the Lord, Holy Communion with the Lord, because that is what we pray the person will experience after death, communion with the Lord in heaven.  
    We probably don’t often think about it this way, but the Eucharist is meant to be spiritual food for a people ready to move on somewhere.  We see that even in the prefigurement of the Eucharist in the Passover sacrifice.  The Jews were to sacrifice an unblemished lamb, spread its blood over the doorposts and lintel, and eat it.  They were to eat it “‘with your loins girt, sandals on your feet and your staff in hand, you shall eat like those who are in flight.’”  The eating of the Passover lamb was to prepare the Chosen People for their pilgrimage from slavery in Egypt to freedom in the Promised Land.  
    So for us, the Church, the Eucharist is our food for the journey, not only the journey from this life to the next, but even our daily journey from the safety of the church into the war zone of the world, where we fight against spiritual powers inside of us and outside of us.  It is meant to strengthen us for our witness to the Gospel in our daily life.  And yet, how often do we see it as boring, as just another obligation.  Dorothy Day, the great, saintly woman of the Catholic Worker movement, related a scenario when she encountered one such person:
I was saddened last week when a former nun told me she was tired of going to Mass daily.  She had been doing that for fourteen years, and no longer felt it necessary.  So much routine.  One could only point out that breathing was routine, and eating was routine…We go to eat of this fruit of the tree of life because Jesus told us to….He took upon himself our humanity that we might share in his divinity.  We are nourished by his flesh that we may grow to be other Christs.

Indeed, as Jesus prepare to celebrate the Last Supper, the first thing He does is serve.  He washes the feet of His apostles.  So for us, after we receive the Eucharist, we are called to serve.  Jesus says, “‘I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.’”
    This is not to say that the Eucharist is merely a means to an end, the means by which we move on to the really important stuff, the activity of daily life.  In fact, it’s the other way around.  The Eucharist is the really important “stuff,” and the activity of daily life is the overflowing of the cup that is filled only with the Body and Blood of our Lord.  
    Jesus gave us the Eucharist because He knew we needed to be fed by God as part of our worship.  He knew that so few would be with Him on Golgotha, as He did what the Last Supper pointed to: give up His Body and Blood for the salvation of the world.  And from that most important act of the crucifixion, the transformation of the world became possible.  So it is only after we are worthily nourished by Eucharist that we are able to be the disciples that we are called to be, relating to others by word and deed how our connection to Jesus changes us.
    And then, there is a double movement that, after our daily activity of living as disciples, brings us back here, back to the Mass.  Having utilized the spiritual energy which we received the last time we went to Mass, we are drawn back for more, because we hunger more for God.  And yet, we also are drawn back to thank God for the power that we have seen exercised through us as we shared the fruits of the Eucharist we received in talking about Jesus, in loving like Jesus, in serving like Jesus.  “How shall I make a return to the Lord / for all the good he has done for me? / The cup of salvation I will take up, / and I will call upon the name of the Lord.”  We return because we hunger more; we return because we thank God for what the Eucharist made possible in our lives.
    As we begin these three holiest of days–Holy Thursday tonight, Good Friday tomorrow, Holy Saturday culminating in the Easter Vigil–there’s a lot going on.  If we are truly, fully entering into it, we’ll be physically, emotionally, and spiritually tired.  We will need sustenance.  Even though we won’t celebrate Mass again until Holy Saturday night, the Church will feed us with the Eucharist tomorrow from what was consecrated tonight.  And then we’ll have the chance to be fed once more on Holy Saturday evening as we will rejoice in the news the surpasses every joy.  Only those who are in need of Viaticum can receive the Eucharist at another time on Holy Saturday, because the Church knows they need Holy Communion to prepare them for the ultimate communion with God.  
    Tonight we are fed by the Lord, Who knows that we need Him to be His disciples.  May we never find the reception of Holy Communion routine, but find in it our strength to be the saints God has called us to be.

Take a Retreat

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

    Every year, priests are asked to take a spiritual retreat.  On a merely physical level, it’s an opportunity to “recharge the batteries,” that can be drained by spending himself for his people.  On a spiritual level, it’s an opportunity to deepen his relationship with the Lord, to grow in the Theological virtues of faith, hope, and love.  Jesus Himself invited the Twelve to take a brief retreat in Mark 6:31, when Jesus said, “‘Come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest a while.’”  Mark notes that there were large numbers of people who had been coming to see Jesus, and the apostles and Jesus were often missing meal time, so they went off in a boat “to a deserted place.” 
    But retreats aren’t only for priests.  The lay faithful, too, are encouraged, to the extent possible, to take a yearly retreat.  Before COVID, our great retreat center in DeWitt offered different tailored retreats to men, women, married couples, and other groups.  As we get through this pandemic you can make sure and check their webpage for upcoming retreat opportunities. 
    But I get that retreats are especially hard for those who are still working and/or who are caring for dependents.  For many Catholics, a retreat is something that they hear about that other people do, but nothing they take advantage of for themselves. 
    So this year, for our upcoming Sacred Triduum–Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Holy Saturday–I want to encourage you to think about the opportunities for prayer as a chance to retreat, to take some extra time with the Lord.  We’ve added times for prayer, but there’s also the times when the Church is simply open and quiet, when you can come and spend time with Jesus.
    Jesus Himself, as we heard in our Passion Narrative today, took time to pray in the Garden of Gethsemane as He was preparing for His Passion and Death.  He asked St. Peter, “‘Could you not keep watch for one hour?’”  Come to the Mass of the Lord’s Supper at 7 p.m. on Holy Thursday, and pray with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane after the Mass.  Pray for the openness to what the Lord wants to share with you during these holy days of the Lord’s Passion.  Sign-up for 30 minutes or and hour to spend with Jesus in our Community Room Gethsemane, which will start after Mass and go until 10 p.m.  Most of that time is simply silent, with the Blessed Sacrament.  But it’s a powerful time to pray and spend with Jesus.
    For Good Friday, we’ll have four opportunities for you to come and spend time with Jesus.  The church will be stripped, and we’ll start with Daytime Prayer, part of the Liturgy of the Hours, the official prayer of the Church, at noon.  Then at 12:30 we’ll continue with Stations of the Cross, the great devotion of walking with Jesus as He walked to Calvary to die for love of us.  It’s then that we can ponder our own crosses, our own falls on the path the God has allowed us to walk.  At 3 p.m., the hour that Jesus died, we’ll recall His Death on the Cross, and venerate the cross that saved us from sin and death.  And then at 8 p.m. Good Friday night, we’ll hear the powerful and sorrowful psalms and readings that point to the price that was paid for our salvation.  And, if any of those exact times don’t work, feel free to come to the church any time between 11:30 a.m. and 4 p.m. to spend time with Jesus.
    Holy Saturday is our day of watching and waiting.  We know the rest of the story, but we put ourselves into the place of the Apostles and faithful disciples who didn’t know what to do after Jesus had died.  We wait in the great silence of the day that Jesus’ Body remained in the Tomb, while His Soul descended to hell, the place of the dead, to rescue to the souls of the just and escort them into heaven.  We’ll have a powerful set of readings at 8:30 a.m., and then bless any Easter food you bring at 12:30 p.m.  On that day of silence, the expectation of what we know will happen that night pushes us to be patient with God’s will as it becomes known to us in our daily lives, especially in the sufferings that we endure, often not seeing the future risings that will come from them.  And then, at 8:30 p.m., we’ll begin our solemn Easter Vigil, the Night of Nights, when sorrow turned to joy, darkness turned to light, and death was conquered by Life Himself. 
    It’s only a three-day retreat, and it’s not the full three days, but you’ll have a great opportunity to take time away with the Lord, to give Him all that is on your heart right now, to rest with Him.  This is a beautiful way that we accompany Jesus during His Passion, doing for Jesus what He does for us in all our sufferings: stay with us, encourage us, pray with us.  Don’t miss out on this opportunity of our Triduum retreat.  Recharge your spiritual batteries; come to be with Jesus; rest with Him.

Actions & Consequences and A Freely-Given Gift

 Fourth Sunday of Lent

    When I was growing up, if we were flirting with trouble (mostly my sisters, because I was a perfect angel, of course!), my parents would say things like: if I have to pull this car over…; don’t you even think about it…; or other such tried and true methods.  They were not cruel, it was just a very direct form of discipline.  As all of us kids turned our pretty well, I’d say it worked.  But my sister Amanda, the only one with kids right now, often uses the phrase, “Make good choices.”  I’d call that the softer approach, but my nieces are also pretty well-behaved (at least, as far as I know), so that approach apparently can work, too!
    One major aspect of raising children is to help them to understand the consequences of their actions.  If you draw on the wall with crayons, you get time-out.  If you touch the hot stove, you get burned.  If you don’t do your homework, you don’t get to play outside (nowadays it’s more likely play video games or play on your phone).  If you break curfew, you’re grounded.  These small lessons about actions and consequences are meant to help young people understand that if we make good choices, there are, generally, good consequences.  If we make bad choices, there are, generally, bad consequences.
    We see that in the first reading today, and even, to an extent, in our Gospel.  The Books of Chronicles of the Old Testament are the abridged versions of the Books of Kings, explaining the actions of the kings of Judah and Israel.  The lesson at the end of the Second Book of Kings, our first reading today, is that the people made bad choices.  They worshipped foreign gods, they mistreated the poor, they trusted earthly riches and powers more than God, they did not live as God’s Chosen People.  God sent them messengers to tell them to make better choices, but they never listened.  And what was the consequence?  The Temple, the great house of God, was destroyed, and the people were exiled into Babylon.  To echo Bishop Barron, there’s a sort of spiritual mathematics going on.  If you add sin upon sin, you get death, like 2 + 2 = 4.  Notice, that death doesn’t only come because of sin (we see that in other books of the Old Testament), just like 4 can be added to with a few different combinations.  But certain actions have certain consequences, or, to put it in St. Paul’s words, “The wages of sin is death.”  
    Jesus, too, and John the Evangelist, give us this same idea in the Gospel.  “Whoever believes in [Jesus] will not be condemned, but whoever does not believe has already been condemned.”  Again, the spiritual mathematics of the importance of believing in Jesus.  Or, later on, John continues that evil means darkness, whereas God means light.  If we do evil things, we envelope ourselves in darkness.  If we do good things, we are surrounded by light.  This is part of the push to the New Evangelization.  We who have received the light (which will be powerfully demonstrated at the Easter Vigil, as we enter into a dark church, at first only illumined by the Paschal Candle which represents Christ), have a responsibility to share it with others.  And we should not prefer darkness to light, because otherwise we’ll find condemnation.
    But this can tend us to the idea that, if we just check off the right boxes, then we’ll be good.  It makes us the author of our salvation, rather than God.  It pretends that we have what it takes to save ourselves.  If that were so, certainly Abraham, or Moses, or Isaiah would have been in heaven as soon as they died.  But they couldn’t be in heaven without Jesus' saving Death and Resurrection.  Even those just men and women of the Old Testament couldn’t get to heaven on their own.  They, and we, are saved by grace, by the gift of God; it is not earned.
    But Fr. Anthony, you may be saying, you just got done saying that good choices lead to good consequences.  Yes, I did.  But all the good choices in the world couldn’t open up heaven.  It was the consequence of the death of Jesus on the cross that allowed us to enter heaven.  His good choice led to our good consequences.  “God, who is rich in mercy,…” says St. Paul, “brought us to life with Christ….For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not from you; it is the gift of God.”  Try getting to heaven without Jesus; it’s impossible.  You might be able to get halfway there every day, but you’ll never get all the way there.  Jesus is the only one who makes salvation possible.  And He’s the only one who gives us what we need to accept that gift of salvation.  If those in other religions are saved, the Church says, it’s still only because of Jesus.  Moses does not save people (nor did he claim to).  Mohammed does not save people.  Buddha does not save people.  Only Jesus does.  And anyone who is saved, is saved only through the Passion, Death, Resurrection, and Ascension of Jesus.  
    God invites us to salvation.  He invites us to open the gift that He has prepared for us.  But, as with any gift, we can choose whether or not to accept it.  In that way, we’re back to actions and consequences.  If we accept God’s free gift of salvation, heaven is for us.  How do we know that we have accepted that gift?  By the way we live our life; by the good choices we make in response to that gift, because of our love for God.  We can’t earn it, but neither can we receive it without responding to it.  God did not come to condemn us; He sent Jesus to save us.  But the way that we can grab ahold of that salvation is to respond to the gift, to live as Jesus invites us; to make good choices when presented with the free gift of salvation.

Interiorlizing the Rules

 Third Sunday of Lent
    There are many good jokes about those who study the liturgy, who are often called liturgists (of which I am one).  For example: what’s the difference between a vampire and a liturgist?  One is a blood-sucking, dark creature of the night, and the other turns into a bat.  Or what’s the difference between a terrorist and a liturgist?  You can negotiate with a terrorist.
    

What is it about those who love the liturgy that makes these jokes have just the right amount of a ring of truth?  Maybe at times you have felt that I have been immovable or inflexible when you thought I should be.  I think part of the reality is that those who have studied the liturgy understand the rules of the Mass, just like athletes and coaches understand the rules of the game.  If you find a really good athlete (one example that comes to my mind is Peyton Manning), you can see the art in how he or she competes in the sport.  When Peyton Manning was quarterback, it was poetry in motion watching him read the field, pass the ball, and avoid getting sacked.  Over his years of play, and with a good dose of God-given talent, Peyton went from simply thinking about the rules, to implementing the rules in a way that created beauty.  But imagine if Peyton didn’t understand rules on a false start, or an ineligible receiver.  Those games would have been ugly for the teams for which Peyton played.  The game would have been slow and clunky, and Peyton would not have won many, if any, games, and certainly not two Super bowls.  
    So for those who study the Mass and the Sacraments, they have made the rules a part of how they operate at Mass, such that it no longer looks like they are think about the rules, but are more naturally flowing, as is it’s a part of who they are while they’re at Mass.  For those who don’t understand or who have never been trained, it’s just a lot of dos and don’ts.  
    When we hear about Jesus cleansing the temple today (which in John’s Gospel happens towards the beginning, while the other Gospel accounts put it closer to Jesus’ Passion), we might wonder what Jesus’ problem was.  After all, people needed oxen, sheep, and doves for the temple.  They needed to exchange their foreign currency, often with the image of an emperor or king who considered himself a god, with money that did not have graven images and could be used in the temple.  In fact, the word profane comes the Latin words pro and fanum, meaning outside the temple.  To be profane was to be something that could only be used outside the temple, because it was not worthy of God.  
    But Jesus, who, as God, inspired David and Solomon to build the temple, and inspired the plans for the temple which was meant to represent heaven, knew the rules.  He knew how the temple was supposed to go, and what were “penalties.”  And so Jesus cleansed the temple to restore it to what it was meant for: the worship of God according to the pattern of heaven, rather than a marketplace.  
    So, too, for us, we are invited to give our best to God each time we come to Mass.  That can mean dressing a little better for Mass than we do for our weekdays.  It can mean trying to focus more than we usually do when someone is reading to us or speaking to us.  In whatever way we can, we want to give God our best, and enter into His plan and His rules for the Mass because it allows the beauty of the heavenly realm to begin to break-in to our earthly world.
    But it also applies to life in general, the extension of the Mass that we live out day-to-day.    When we hear the Ten Commandments, as we heard them this morning, we may just think of them as a long list of “Thou shalt not.”  But, in fact, while we are told not to do things, the rejection of sin and evil allows us to thrive and to live the life that truly makes us happy.  That may, at times, seem counterintuitive.  After all, it might seem nice to yell out a swear word or take God’s Name in vain when we hit our thumb with a hammer or stub our toe.  Or it might seem better not to have to worry about coming to Mass on Sunday, and just sleep in and do whatever tasks we left after watching sports on Saturday.  Or maybe we don’t want to be tied down to just one spouse; or we think it would make us happier just to take whatever we want, whenever we want, from whomever we want.  And certainly if my spouse asks me if this dish that’s called dinner tastes good, lying would be so much easier!
    But, in fact, that’s like saying that it would be easier to play football if your offensive line could line up however they wanted, and move whenever they wanted.  Or if Peyton could throw to whomever he wanted, rather than having only certain people who can be eligible receivers.  And those are just man-made rules for a man-made game.  The Ten Commandments are God’s rules for the world, which God created, and so He knows exactly how things are to be done to be beautiful and bring happiness.  
    Even the most simple, made-up game by children has rules that allow them to have fun, to find joy, and to allow the game to proceed as it’s intended by its creator.  So, too, with life: there are rules to allow us to participate well, and to win the imperishable crown that awaits those who win at life.  God gives us those rules because He loves us, and He knows how we will truly be happy.  Today let’s recommit ourselves to entering into the rules of life, not simply to do this or not do that, but to allow God’s grace, which truly makes us alive, to operate in us as easily as Peyton Manning plays football.

Transformation through Trial

 Second Sunday of Lent
    In many a great story of literature, we find a hero who has to undergo a great trial, or many great trials.  After going through the trial(s), the hero is changed, for the better; transformed, we might even say.  This is true of ancient literature, like “The Odyssey,” where Odysseus, on his way home from war, has to conquer many trials on various islands as his ship is tossed about the seas.  This is true of classical literature like “A Christmas Carol” by Charles Dickens, where Ebenezer Scrooge has to grapple with his past, his present, and even a possible future in order to be changed from a miser to philanthropist.  This is true in the great Catholic trilogy, “The Lord of the Rings” by J. R. R. Tolkien where Frodo is put through many trials trying to destroy the Ring of Power in the fires of Mount Doom.  This is even true in J. K. Rowling’s novels about Harry Potter, who discovers who he is and how to stop the evil wizard Voldemort through many tribulations.  
  

 That is true also for Abraham in today’s first reading.  After being promised a son to inherit everything; after his wife, Sarah, getting impatient with God’s plan and telling Abraham to conceive a child with her slave, Hagar; after finally having that son through Sarah, God asks Abraham to sacrifice his son, his only son (at least of the promise), the son whom he loves.  Abraham’s willingness to abandon himself to God’s plan, however mysterious, is his great trial, for which God greatly rewards Abraham.
    As for the greatest story ever told, the story of Jesus, He doesn’t have to do anything to be great; He is great because He is God.  And yet, Jesus, too, in humility, undergoes a great trial in His Passion and Death, in order to be transformed, to be raised from the dead and receive a glorified body.  And in today’s Gospel, we hear about a foretaste of that glorified body as Jesus is transfigured before Peter, James, and John.  It is a rest before the great struggle begins, and the apostles will need that reminder as they go through an unexpected journey of their own with their Master.
    What about our story?  I dare say that everyone over the past year has had trials.  And many people had trials before COVID.  And we will all have trials after we’ve gotten a handle on this pandemic.  How do we view those struggles in the light of faith?  Do we view those struggles in the light of faith, or are we fatalists, just letting life happen to us?  
    God does not call us to be fatalists, as if suffering is beyond the control of God and so we have no one to turn to during our tribulations.  God calls us to be sons and daughters in His Son, who gives us everything that we need, including allowing us to undergo trials to help us to grow.  
    There is, I would also dare say, a part of us that cringes from the trials and tests.  We would rather have the Resurrection without the crucifixion.  We would rather have abs of steel without going to the gym and eating well.  We would rather have infused knowledge than going to school for so many years.  But that’s not the way the world works.  In God’s mysterious plan, somehow the struggle is good for us, and builds us in ways that cheap grace never could.  There is no such thing as cheap grace; it is never earned (because grace is a gift), but it’s also not encountered passively; it always requires some death to self, which is a struggle.  
    And the attitude to have through it all is the attitude of Abraham, of Isaac, of Jesus: God will provide.  We can imagine how much the thought of sacrificing his son tore up Abraham.  We can imagine how confused and perhaps even scared Isaac was.  And in a few weeks we’ll hear the reaction of Jesus to His known, impending suffering and Death as He asks His loving Father for another way, if it is possible.  But, and these words are key, Jesus says, “Not my will, but yours be done.”  
    The trials and tribulations of life, the sufferings we encounter, especially if they are not of our own making, are the ways that we pass through death to life.  Lent is a long time of truly entering in, as we are called to do year round, to the Paschal Mystery–to the Passion and Death of Jesus–so that we are share in the Resurrection and Ascension of Jesus.  And if we go through whatever struggles we have with God, they do strengthen us, they transform us, they even transfigure us to be more like Jesus in glory.  
    We have a choice: do we want to get to that glory that Jesus showed His apostles on Mt. Tabor?  If so, there’s only one way to get there: through the cross; through suffering and death to our own wills and to our own sinfulness.  St. Rose of Lima put it this way: “Apart from the cross there is no other ladder by which we may get to heaven.”  The ladder may be difficult to climb, but the reward at the top is joy beyond imagining!  In the story of your life, follow the path of so many literary heroes: go through trials so that you can be transformed!