Judah Ben-Hur and the Eucharist

Eighteenth Sunday in Ordinary Time

            When I first looked over the first reading from the Book of the Prophet Isaiah, one of the first images that popped into my head was a scene from “Ben Hur,” the classic movie starring Charlton Heston.  The movie’s quite long, so if you’re going to download it or rent it be prepared for a whole afternoon or late night spent watching it.  It is, however, worth it.  What many do not realize is that the movie is subtitled: “A Story of the Christ.” 

            The particular scene that comes to mind is when, circa AD 30, Judah Ben-Hur, the main character, is in chains, being led through the Judean desert as a traitor to Rome.  The prisoners stop for a moment so that the Roman soldiers and horses can get water.  But no water is offered to the prisoners, and anyone who tries to offer them water is pushed away by the Roman soldiers.  But then, one man, with a kind of light emanating from Him, approaches Judah and gives him a cup of water.  Judah drinks the water gratefully, and is entranced as he looks upon this man who gave him the cool, refreshing water.  Even the Romans are stopped as they look upon the face (which we never see) of the Jew who dared to defy them.  The unseen face, of course, belongs to Jesus.

            Jesus tells us, through the prophet Isaiah, that if we are thirsty, all we need do is come to the water, and He will refresh us.  We see in this passage an allusion to the waters of baptism, the waters which quench our souls of the thirst that every human being has for God.  During these hot, summer days, how refreshing it is to jump into a cold lake or pool, or to take a cool shower after working hard in our hot and humid days.  Even more so, then, does baptism cool us from all of our passions which, if not ordered correctly, can lead us to a place which makes a hot, humid summer day in Michigan feel as cool as an air-conditioned office. 

Mosaic of the Multiplication of the Loaves and Fish
at the Church of the Multiplication of the Loaves
in the Holy Land.
You'll notice that there are only 4 loaves.
The 5th is the "loaf" on the altar which becomes the
Body of Christ

            But we also see that our God, our loving God, is not some disinterested, disconnected deity.  He is not the god of the Enlightenment, who simply set a whole chain of events in motion and then watches from afar, not concerned with our daily needs.  No, we see in the words of the prophet, and especially in our Gospel, that Jesus cares about our daily, earthly needs as well.  He knows that in order to help us understand the spiritual reality, we need to also have our earthly realities addressed.  And so, after the people heard the teachings of Jesus, the Word of God, they were hungry.  As a sign, a quasi-sacrament, we might say, of His love for us, Jesus multiplies 5 loaves of bread and two fish, and miraculously makes them enough to feed 5,000 men, and likely as many, if not more, women and children.  God doesn’t just tell us how much He loves us.  He shows us, in Jesus, by giving us food for the soul (the truth, which is really Jesus Himself) and food for the body.

            Do we not ask, each Sunday, and hopefully each day, in the Lord’s Prayer that we receive our daily bread?  We ask God to be with us in our earthly needs, whether they be food and drink, employment, shelter, health, or whatever else we may need, and He generously responds, either through a miracle, like in today’s Gospel, or through His Mystical Body, the Church, of which we are a part. 

            And yet, even as we know that God is concerned with what’s happening in our day-to-day life, He does not stop there.  Just as the words of the Prophet Isaiah remind us of baptism, the water that truly refreshes us, so the multiplication of the loaves is supposed to prepare and remind us about the Eucharist, the sacred bread which does not become part of us, but makes us a part of Him whose Body it is.  In giving us the multiplication of the loaves, Jesus leads us to the Eucharist, the bread come down from heaven which satisfies the hunger of the soul for the God who made it.  Even the words of the Lord’s Prayer in Scripture, “give us this day our daily bread,” when read in the Latin or Greek, refer to a super-substantial bread, a bread which is above the usual substance of wheat which has been crushed and then baked, because it is no longer bread, but really the Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity of Jesus Christ, which fully satisfies us, just as the 5,000 men, and the other women and children ate of the loaves and fish and were satisfied.

            What great love God has for us, that He cares for us enough to satisfy our needs.  He comes down to us in our hunger and thirst and feeds us and gives us water to quench our thirst.  If we were fully convinced of this love, then following Jesus, trusting in Jesus, and loving Jesus in return would not be something which we would consider not doing, because we would know that separating ourselves from that love would be as foolish as separating ourselves from the food and drink that nourishes our body, for the love of God is the true nourishment of our souls.  

            As we approach the Eucharist, the true bread come down from heaven which gives life to those who receive it worthily, let us know in our heads and in our hearts that this is the love of God made manifest to us in a tangible way.  The Eucharist is the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world.  Happy are those who are called to the banquet of the Lamb.  

Hiatus

Summer School


For the first time in my life, I will be attending summer school.  This, however, will not be for remedial work, but to begin pursuing a Master's Degree in Liturgy from the Liturgical Institute in Mundelein, Illinois.  During this time I will not be preparing weekend homilies (as far as I know), and so my postings will be non-existant until such time as I am back at St. Thomas parish/St. John Student Center in late July/early August.  God bless you during these summer days!

Fr. Anthony

Endings and Beginnings

Ascension of the Lord

            The way that something ends can be very important.  In what little free time I have, I enjoy reading Grisham novels.  But, to be honest, it’s a love-hate relationship.  I love reading the books, until I get to the end because, in my opinion, the man doesn’t know how to end a book.  It’s always so abrupt and dissatisfying.

Or, we could look at our high school students who have graduated, or any high school students who have been or will be taking exams.  While the rest of the semester is important, finals week either caps a successful semester, maybe saves someone from having to retake a class with a last-minute display of real knowledge, or puts the nail in the coffin to a horrible class.

Rock from which Jesus ascended into heaven
(Jerusalem)

            What we celebrate today is the is the completion of the Paschal Mystery.  This main Mystery of our Faith, what makes us unique as Christians, began Holy Thursday, as we celebrated the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, continued on Good Friday as we solemnly recalled Jesus’ death on the cross, and then continued on further as we celebrated the rising of Christ from the dead.  But our celebration of that Mystery did not end on Easter Sunday, or even after the Octave of Easter.  No, today’s solemnity, that of the Ascension, when Christ, 40 days after He rose from the dead, ascended into heaven (even though we celebrate it a few days later) is also part of this Mystery.  And this part reminds us that, after our resurrection from the dead, after we have been judged, if we are found faithful to God, we can expect our glorified bodies to rise from their tombs and be reunited with our souls in heaven.  Where Christ has gone, we, too, hope to go someday.

            That is why today is such a great celebration.  Not only have sin and death been conquered by Christ’s dying on the cross and rising to new life; not only do we get to have eternal life after death; but our human nature has been taken up into heaven and, united with Jesus’ divine nature, sits at the right hand of the Father, “far above every principality, authority, power, and dominion,” as St. Paul says in our second reading.  Human nature has been taken up into the heavens where it enjoys the fullness of the reign of God, and by our faithful stewardship of the gifts that God has given to us: the most precious gift of faith, hope, and love and the gifts of time, talent, and treasure, we can share in that reign.

            But, while this day marks the completion of the Paschal Mystery, it also marks a new beginning, as all endings do.  When we finish elementary school we begin middle school; when we finish middle school we begin high school; when we finish high school we begin college or a job; when we end single life we begin married life, ordained ministry, or consecrated life; when we end this life on earth, we begin a new life, hopefully in heaven.  So when Christ completes His Paschal Mystery, it begins a new part of the work of Christ, the work of the rest of His Body, the Church.

            Because as Jesus was about to ascend into the heavens, He commands them, “‘Go…and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you.’”  As Jesus’ physical presence in His glorified body ends here on earth, His work continues through the members of His Body, the Church, through all generations.  He gives us the mandate to preach the Gospel and bring people under the obedience of Christ, obeying all His commands.

            We generally don’t think of Christ as commanding, but as we look through the Gospels, we see a few that come up again and again: “‘Repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand!’”; “‘Sin no more’”; “‘Love one another’”; and today we hear, “‘make disciples of all nations.’”  This is the work that Jesus Christ expects us to do while we are on earth.  This is part of the work that His Body continues, part of His ministry to all people. 

            The temptation, of course, is to be like the disciples at the ascension, and not really get this mandate.  They keep looking up, even after Jesus was taken from their sight, and so God sends to angels to say, “‘Men of Galilee, why are you standing there looking at the sky?’”  They wonder why the disciples are not returning to the upper room to pray for the Holy Spirit so that they can be Jesus’ messengers themselves.  While we may not look up in the sky, we might be tempted to think, ‘Wow!  That was a great homily!  What a powerful Mass.  I never realized that Christ has commanded me to preach the Gospel!’ and then leave our practice of the faith in this building, just like the disciples standing on the mountain.  But Jesus doesn’t tell us to bask in the glow of the Spirit while we’re in Church for an hour, and then return our faith to the bookracks before we exit the building.  He gives us the mandate to take that faith out into the world and use it in our interactions with family, friends, co-workers, and all those we meet, bearing witness in word and deed to the joy and the hope we have in Christ.

            It is good to realize how important this completion of the Paschal Mystery is, and to rejoice in the fact that our natures, and even our bodies, one day, can be united with God in heaven.  But this completion leads us to a new beginning, the beginning of our ministry in the Holy Name of Jesus as we make disciples of all nations and lead then to the saving waters of Baptism.  

We Have (the Holy) Spirit, Yes We Do!!

Sixth Sunday of Easter

            “Be sealed with the Gift of the Holy Spirit.”  These are the words that Fr. Mark said to the 28 people who were confirmed at the Easter Vigil just a few weeks ago.  They are the words that our 8^th and 9^th grade students will hear next school year when Bishop Boyea confirms them.  These are the words that call down the Holy Spirit upon the baptized, just as Sts. Peter and John gave the Holy Spirit to those who had accepted the Word of God in Samaria, after they had been baptized.

            Does this gift of the Holy Spirit change those who receive it?  Does the Holy Spirit matter?  Of course!  By the anointing with the Sacred Chrism and the laying on of hands, those who have been confirmed are united to the Blessed Trinity in a new way!  They are little christs, little anointed ones, just as Christ, the anointed one, was filled with the Spirit.

            Sadly, we can block the many graces that the Spirit wants to give to us, the seven-fold gift of: wisdom, understanding, reverence, knowledge, counsel, right judgment, and wonder and awe in the presence of God.  We can say no to these gifts.  We can say no to the courage, the excitement, the joy that are the gifts that should be poured upon us when we are baptized and confirmed. 

            How often do I see those gifts going unused, like birds that long to fly but are locked in a cage that gives them no room.  How often do I see people come to Sunday Mass as if they are going to a funeral!  How often do I see people coming forward to receive the Eucharist, the Body and Blood of our Lord, Jesus the Christ, the Anointed One, without joy on their faces!  It’s not that we always have to feel happy or have a smile on our face.  That will only happen if we are welcomed into heaven.  But, we can always be joyful that we are able to participate in the anticipation of the Wedding Feast of the Lamb of God, the Antechamber of Heaven.  That’s what we get the opportunity to celebrate each week.  And if we are truly celebrating, then we are not dour, but delighted.  Imagine how much fun the Open Houses that we attend would be if everyone acted their like they do at Mass!  Not much at all! 

            The Holy Spirit gives us life, gives us breath.  It is like the vision of the dry bones from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel.  Even though the bones are put back together, and the sinews and muscles are all on the bones, they bodies need the Spirit of God breathed into them in order to live.  We need that same Spirit or else we are nothing but a collection of bones, muscle, and organs walking around like zombies.  We need that Spirit!

            We need the Spirit to be able to give an explanation “to anyone who asks…for a reason for [our] hope,” as St. Peter says in our second reading.  The same Spirit that allowed the Apostles, Blessed Mother, and disciples gathered in the upper room at the first Pentecost, to proclaim the Gospel, the Good News, to the Jews gathered in Jerusalem; the same Spirit that sent Philip down to Samaria to preach and baptize those who were willing to accept the Word of God; that same Spirit dwells within us and wants to renew the face of the earth by our testimony and witness to the Gospel of Christ.  It is like the fizz in a shaken pop bottle that is just waiting for the tiniest opening to explode out of us. 

But we have become good at keeping the lid on.  We have become good at quelling the Spirit so that we don’t have to give an explanation for our faith.  We can be like adolescents in the faith.  We don’t know much and we’re afraid of sharing what we have for fear that we are different, that we upset the apple cart.  We may not have joy, but at least we’re comfortable where we’re at, and we don’t want to challenge anyone else, let alone ourselves.  Just like adolescents we don’t want to be different.  We want to the same as everyone else.  But that’s not what the Spirit calls us to.  As St. Paul says in his letter to the Romans, “Do not conform yourselves to this world, but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.”  Do not be the same as the world, because if we are, then we do not have the Spirit of God, since, as Jesus says in today’s Gospel, the Advocate, the one who stands up to defend us and gives us words to speak as we proclaim the Good News, that Spirit the world cannot accept, “because it neither sees or knows him.” 

“For God did not give us a spirit of cowardice but rather of power and love.”  If we have the Spirit, we have power.  Not power which dominates, but power that serves by proclaiming the freeing love and redemption that is ours in Christ Jesus.  To show that we have the Holy Spirit do we all have to quit our jobs and go off to Pacific Islands, Saudi Arabia, or unknown jungles in South America to preach conversion?  No, we have plenty of opportunities right here in East Lansing, Okemos, and the entire greater-Lansing area.  There are people who do not know Jesus and who need to.  There are people who know Jesus and have been baptized, but who have not yet received the full inheritance of the Spirit that is their right as children of God in confirmation.  The more we are willing to bring Christ to our work place and even in our own homes (where, sadly, I fear He is sometimes absent!!), the more will we transform this world to be more like the Kingdom of God that Christ instituted by His own presence here on earth. 

The more we pray on a daily basis for the gift to recognize the times when the Spirit is calling us to bring Jesus into a particular conversation or situation; the more we are proud to be Catholics and bring that into the public sector, rather than being ashamed of having different rules and different views that so many others; the more we open ourselves up to the Spirit rather than blocking Him by our fear and our sins, the more we will have that enduring joy and peace that Christ promises to us. 

And so, as we prepare for Pentecost over the next two weeks, may our prayer be an invitation to the Holy Spirit to make His dwelling in us, fill us with His power, and help us to be alive with Him rather than just dry bones rattling along in life. 

Come, Holy Spirit,

Fill the hearts of your faithful

and enkindle in them the fire of your love.

Send forth your Spirit

and they shall be created

and you shall renew the face of the earth.  

Amen.

"VENI SANCTE SPIRITUS REPLE TUORUM CORDA FIDELIUM
COME HOLY SPIRIT FILL THE HEARTS OF YOUR FAITHFUL"
From Monte Cassino Benedictine Abbey, Italy

Cornerstone

Fifth Sunday of Easter

            This past week, and especially Friday night and Saturday evening I was asked a question by a number of parishioners: “Father, is the world going to end?”  And, while we know by faith that one day, God will create a new heaven and a new earth, we also know that this will be the consummation of God’s love for humanity, welcoming into heaven those who have lived as his faithful disciples.  But, about when it will happen, even Jesus, while He was on earth, said we do not know the day nor the hour.  Still, he also tells us in today’s Gospel, “‘Do not let your hearts be troubled.’”  And really, if we are living as disciples of Jesus, then we have nothing to fear.  The only reason to fear the end times is if we are not being good disciples, and if Jesus is not the center, or you might say the cornerstone, of our lives. 

            “‘Behold, I am laying a stone in Zion, a cornerstone, chosen and precious.’”  “‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.’”  “‘Like living stones, let yourselves be built into a spiritual house.’”  These quotes all come from our second reading today, and focus on minds on construction.  St. Peter tells us that we are in the midst of a great construction effort: the building up of the house of God, with Jesus Christ Himself as the cornerstone.  We are being put together into one large building: the household, the temple of God.

            As we build up our own house, our very selves, we are also contributing to the larger complex, almost as if the overall goal is a condominium complex, made up of many smaller houses.

            What matters most for us and for the complex as a whole is the foundation.  Without a good, strong foundation, the rest of the house, and indeed, the complex, is in danger of collapsing or nothing protecting us from the tornados of life.  What is the base of who we are?  It’s easy to say Christ, because we know that’s supposed to be the right answer.  Besides, when asked a religious question, we have this tendency to think that Jesus is always the right answer.  But, if we’re honest, we may have to pause to take some time and think about it.  If you’re a type A personality like me, too often the temptation is for my plans to be the foundation of my life.  Sure, we can say that Jesus is the cornerstone of my life, but in the day-to-day experiences of life, to whom do I turn more for giving me a solid base?  My plans or God’s plans?  Likely, all of us struggle with this a little.  Or perhaps our struggle is with money being the foundation, or prestige, or power.  Whatever our temptation, there are other stones, better looking stones, that want to be established as the foundation to our house.  But, to have a house which can stand the test, not only of time but also of eternity, Jesus, the stone rejected by the builders, must become our cornerstone.

            Another important fact is to realize that our house is two stories: the basement or earthly floor and the heavenly or first floor.  The foundation that we lay here on earth greatly impacts how the first floor turns out.  Jesus tells us that in His Father’s house there are many dwelling places.  He goes to prepare a place for us.  But, we cooperate in building that level, too.  Jesus has the plan for us of how to construct it, but we have to follow those plans.  Otherwise, we build the basement floor on earth, and, if we get that wrong, we don’t build up towards the heavens, but rather down towards eternal perdition. 

            By our actions while we are building this level of the house, we establish a good foundation upon which a nice, stable first floor can be built, or we weaken the foundation and end up building down.  By every good deed we do in response to God’s grace, we cooperate with the Master Builder to prepare our place in heaven.  But, by every sin that we commit contrary to God’s grace and will, we undermine the very end for which we are striving. 

            Sometimes the construction of our own spiritual house happens quickly.  Reading this Gospel in preparation for the homily, my mind went to the funeral of our own parishioner, Alex Powell, a young man whom we commended to the Lord on May 12^th.  What a short time the Lord gave him for construction.  And yet, the more stories I heard about his own life and response in faith, especially during extreme pain and suffering, the more I came to know about a strong foundation that had been laid in preparation for the first floor.  Sometimes the construction takes longer, not for any lack of virtue, but simply according to the mind of God.  My mind also went to Dave Gagnier, who greatly assisted this Student Center, especially with the Liturgy, during his life.  In either case, what is important is not so much the time it takes, but how strong that foundation is in Christ.

            If Christ, the stone rejected by the builders, the chosen and precious stone, is our foundation for our lives, then we rest secure in the strength of the base of our spiritual homes.  If not, then as long as we have breath we have a chance to strengthen that foundation so that, at the end of our lives our hearts will not be troubled because we will be prepared to allow God to build up for us that first floor heavenly dwelling place.  If Christ is the foundation of our lives then we will look forward to hearing, “‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father.  Inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world.’”

All of Me

Fourth Sunday of Easter

            As Americans, we tend to be very practical people.  After a salesman has told us all the benefits of their new product, all the great things it will do for us, the wonderful way that it will compliment our lifestyle, whatever the product may be, it always comes down to one simple question: how much?

            In today’s first reading, we hear St. Peter speak on behalf of the other Apostles, and proclaim, “‘Let the whole house of Israel know for certain that God has made both Lord and Christ, this Jesus whom you crucified.’”  Then the reading skips ahead of the main body of his argument, 22 verses, in fact, and gets to the response of the Jews who were hearing him: “‘What are we to do, my brothers?’”  Apparently, the Jews who were hearing St. Peter were practical, too.  They wanted to know what they had to do to be saved.

            Some 2,000 years later, we’re still asking the same question: what do I really have to do?  What’s it cost me?  The answer is quite simple: nothing…and everything.

            Salvation costs us nothing because it is the free gift of God, the gift given to us by Jesus, Lord and Christ, the Greek way of expressing the Hebrew understanding of God and Messiah, at Easter.  This Jesus whom we crucified, to paraphrase St. Peter from the first reading, has, in turn, given us salvation.  And to continue to St. Peter’s words from the second reading, by Jesus’ wounds we are healed.  Even though we have wondered away like sheep, Jesus Christ has brought us back to Himself because He is our shepherd and the guardian of our souls.  Even though we freely chose sin, individual acts and lifestyles that are contrary to Divine Will, natural law, and reason, to use St. Thomas’ definition of sin, acts and lifestyles which draw us away from the eternal destiny of our souls to be in heaven with God, Jesus rescued us from sin and death so that, following His example, we could be happy with Jesus forever in heaven, the whole reason for our being.  And rather than having us pay the cost, Jesus paid the price for our sins with His blood.  We are free to say yes to the great gift of salvation offered to us by Christ.

Sheep grazing in Israel

            And yet, salvation costs us everything.  Because, as Jesus tells us today in the Gospel, He is the gate for the sheep, and anyone who tries to enter by any other means is a thief and a robber, who come only to steal, slaughter, and destroy.  But Jesus, the Good Shepherd, came so that we might have life, and have it more abundantly.  But to come through Jesus the Sheepgate means that we try to get in through no other means.  That we can only go through Him.  And Jesus doesn’t just want one hour from us every week.  He doesn’t just want the times that we’re at home before a meal praying.  He wants us all.  He wants our love, our attention, our actions.  He wants us when we’re children, when we’re teens, when we’re adults, and when we’re seniors.  He wants our friendships, our relationships, the totality of who we are as persons.  He wants our work and He wants our vacations.  He wants our health and our sickness.  All of it, Jesus tells us, must go through Him.  And if it cannot go through Him, then it is only stealing from us, slaughtering us, destroying us.

            For our God is a loving God, yes, but as we hear so many times from the Old Testament, our God is also a jealous God.  He does not want us flirting with sin, in any of its forms.  He wants all of our love and affection to be directed to Him.  God is jealous for us because He knows that the only way that we can truly be happy is by going through Him and uniting everything to him. 

            In our times there are so many temptations to leave God outside and to try to find happiness and joy through other gates.  We see and hear about many prominent Catholics who have not given everything to Jesus, but who have tried to separate aspects of their life and get them in by another route.  Too many prominent Catholics or Catholics we know personally will say or tell us by their actions that when it comes to marriage and the relationships therein, the Church, the Body of Christ, has no authority.  “It’s my body, and I’ll do as I please.”  Too many Catholics consider their first allegiance the Church when they enter the pew, but when they enter the polling place or the Legislative chambers that allegiance disappears.  Now, let me be clear, the Church endorses no candidate and no party.  But, we do promote the Gospel and ask Catholics to vote for those, according to a properly-formed conscience, who can best bring about the teachings of the Gospel, the teachings which bring us life, true liberty, and true happiness, especially for those who are marginalized in our society: infants in the womb, the poor, the elderly, and so many others, as well as Catholic Legislators to promote those Gospel values in their work of forming laws for the State and the country.

            We are all of us practical people.  We want to know the cost of salvation.  It is nothing and everything.  It is a free gift, offered to us in Christ that gives us true joy and true freedom.  It is a gift which, to accept it, means that we are constantly working at making sure that all of who we are passes through Christ, the Sheepgate.  If it cannot pass through Him, it will not bring joy or freedom, but sorrow and slavery.  Christ wants all of us.  Bishop Mengeling is well-known for using older songs in his homilies and talks, and, while I won’t sing the song, I think that our desire, our prayer could be expressed in the opening words of the oldie, but goodie, “All of Me.”  Because we should be saying to Christ, “All of me, why not take all of me?  Can’t you see I’m no good without you.”  Or, to use an even older version, we can use the words of St. Ignatius of Loyola’s Suscipe prayer:

                                                

                                                Receive, O Lord, all my liberty.

                                                Take my memory, my understanding, and my entire will.

                                                Whatsoever I have or posses Thou hast bestowed upon me;

                                                I give it all back to Thee

                                                and surrender it wholly to be governed by Thy Will.

                                                Give me love for Thee alone along with Thy grace,

                                                and I am rich enough and ask for nothing more.

Mass is Boring!!

Third Sunday of Easter

            Sometimes, talking with the students, either at our parish school, St. Thomas Aquinas, or Lansing Catholic high school, I hear a phrase that I’m sure kids have been saying for a while.  I know I at least thought it, if not said it out loud: “Father, Mass is boring!”

            Certainly, there can be parts of the Mass that are not as involved.  Whereas good preaching can really lift up a heart to a deeper practice of the faith and a deeper relationship with God, bad preaching can often stagnate the faith and close people off to the graces that God wants to give them in the Mass.  I think part of the reason that people stop going to Mass is that there is not enough dynamic preaching: preaching the Gospel with real intensity, with real passion, in a way that people can understand.

            But, lest all the burden rest on the priests and deacons, I think it is also hard for people to really enter into Mass because entertainment is such a huge part of our lives, and we expect the same from Mass.  We used to having the newest, coolest things coming at us at every minute of every day.  There’s always a new YouTube video that we can’t help but watch, always a new song we need to download, and new level of Angry Birds to play.  And as we enter into the Church to prepare for Mass, we expect the same new, quick, flashy stimuli, just like the outside world gives us.   So it can be hard for us because the Mass is, more or less, the same every week.  Sure, the readings change and the homily changes (we hope!), but the big chunk of the Mass, the Eucharistic prayer, is always the same.

            In some ways, we can be like the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Notice that they are actually talking about Jesus as they walk from Jerusalem to Emmaus.  They’re not just chatting about the weather, or the newest toga style, or the Roman government.  They’re talking about what has happened to Jesus in the past few days.  And yet, even though they were talking about Him, they fail to recognize Him as He walks with them on the road.

            It is only after Jesus opens the Word of God to them and breaks bread that they recognize that they had been talking to Jesus all along.  It is only after the Word and Eucharist that they are able to recognize how Jesus was made present to them.  And it is at that moment, when they realize who is at table with them, that Jesus’ glorified body disappears.

            We may not be hanging our heads in sorrow every time we come to Mass, but if we come waiting for the newest thing, then we are like the two disciples on the road.  We are not prepared for Jesus to manifest Himself to us.  The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is specifically a time for rest from the busyness of the outside world.  It is a time to relax with Jesus and see how He manifests Himself to us.  If we enter in wanting the music to be our favorite every time, or wanting some funny joke in the homily every time, in general, wanting to be entertained, then we are going to miss Jesus as He makes Himself known to us.

            Because in each and every Mass, Christ opens the Word for us as the Scriptures are read aloud.  We come to understand how the Son of Man had to suffer, die, and then rise from the dead by reading from the Pentateuch, the first five books of the Bible, the Prophets, the Wisdom literature like the Psalms, the letters of Sts. Paul, Peter, James, and John, and the true story of Jesus’ life in the Gospel accounts.  That is Jesus making Himself present to us, fully present, in His Word. 

            But Jesus doesn’t stop there.  He also makes Himself sacramentally, yet truly, present in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Eucharist.  We see, under the accidents, the appearance, of bread and wine, our God, risen from the dead.  He comes to us physically to be with us and nourish us so that we might have strength for the pilgrimage of life.  But if we only want to get in and out of Mass as quickly as possible, or if we want some new hit to wow us, then we miss the ordinary ways that Jesus presents Himself to us.

            It truly takes effort to notice Jesus.  It takes effort to celebrate Mass; not just for me, but for all of us.  As we enter in, it should not just be the standing, sitting, standing, sitting, standing, kneeling, standing, sitting, and standing that tire our bodies out, but if we are truly trying to see Jesus and know of His presence with us, our full attention has to be paid to the words that are proclaimed from the Scriptures, trying to get a peak at Jesus, as did Zacchaeus when he climbed that tree; our ears should be open to hear how Christ is made present to us in the breaking of the bread, as Christ gives Himself to us to consume; our hearts should be lifted up with joy to know that we are entering into the sacred re-presentation of the suffering and death of Jesus on the cross on Calvary, as well as the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, who conquered sin and death and sits at the right hand of God the Father. 

            Do priests need to preach to the best of their ability, making sure that the message of the Gospel is made accessible to new generations with new joys and sorrows, new quests for knowledge and truth?  Certainly.  But if we come to Mass expecting to passively receive, then Mass will be boring for us, because we are not putting in the effort required to see Jesus as He makes Himself present to us in this community, in His priest, in His Word, and in the Sacrament of His Body and Blood.  If we are putting forth effort to see and hear Jesus, then Mass will be tiring, not for lack of activity, but for all the activity we are putting in. 

            I’ll close today with the words of St. Augustine of Hippo, one of the great doctors of the Church, who realized that he could not see Jesus at first in his youth, because he didn’t make the effort to find the Lord, even though Jesus was right there in front of him:

“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you!  You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you.  In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created.  You were with me, but I was not with you.  Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all.  You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness.  You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness.  You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you.  I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more.  You touched me, and I burned for your peace.”

You're [a] Witness

Easter Sunday

            I remember it like it was yesterday.  I left the crowded streets and the hot air and went into the cold building.  I walked straight to the middle and got in line.  I went in to a smaller edifice in the middle.  It was then that I became an eyewitness to the resurrection of Jesus.  You see, I was in Jerusalem on pilgrimage with the first-year seminarians from Sacred Heart, and we were able to enter into not only the Church of the Holy Sepulcher, the place where Jesus died, was buried, and rose, but we were also able to enter into the aediculum, the building erected inside the Church over the spot of the tomb that housed Jesus’ body until the resurrection.

The empty Tomb of Christ

            Now, I’m not bringing this up simply because I’m leading a pilgrimage in November 2012.  But it truly was an awesome, and experience filled with the wonder and awe in God’s presence, to go to that very place and, while not running like Sts. Peter and John from our Gospel account today, still becoming someone who can personally testify that Jesus’ body is not there!  He has risen from the dead as He promised!

            But, even though I’d love to have a full pilgrimage, the great news is that you don’t have to travel to Israel to draw into the events which we have just celebrated over this Sacred Triduum.  You don’t have to go to the physical Upper Room, walk to the Garden of Gethsemane outside the old city walls, or walk to the Church of Holy Sepulcher to re-live those powerful events of the Last Supper, Agony in the Garden, Crucifixion, Burial, and Resurrection of Christ.  We live out those three days each Sunday as we gather as the Body of Christ in the Church.  We gather in this room with Jesus who, present in the priest, says to us, “Take and eat; this is my body; take and drink; this is my blood.”  We kneel with Jesus as we prepare for his agonizing death, which then took place on the altar of the cross, and is re-presented for us on this altar as He once more hands over His Body and pours our His Blood for us in the Eucharist.  We see His Body, the same Body which is “seated at the right hand of God,” as St. Paul tells us in the second reading, present to us truly and sacramentally in the Eucharist we receive. 

We become witnesses of the resurrection through these mysteries we celebrate today, and every Sunday, the 8^th day of the week, as we celebrate Easter every time Sunday.  This is why the Church asks, invites, and, yes, requires us to attend every Sunday: because we need to remember the Paschal Mystery each week as it defines who we are as a Church, as a people.  We need that grace of the Eucharist to help us to be faithful disciples, to love others, even the ones who do us wrong, just as Jesus loved those who put Him to death.

            And, as witnesses of the resurrection and the great deeds that God has accomplished in Jesus, we should not be able to keep that Good News, the Gospel, to ourselves.  Knowing how much God loves us, and to what extent that love goes, the message that St. Peter preached in the first reading.  How “God raised [Jesus] on the third day…He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead.”  Like any good news that we receive: a new child conceived, a new job, a new car, a good grade on an exam or paper, and any of the earthly news that we can’t wait to tell others, we should want to tell our friends, our roommates, our neighbors, and anyone about the great news of the resurrection and what that means for us: that we can rise with Christ if we are baptized into His death.

            Whether we have seen the empty tomb in Jerusalem or whether we see Jesus among us in His people, in His Word, and in the Eucharist, we are all witnesses of the resurrection.  I hope we share that most joyful of news with others that they may also find new life in their relationship with Christ.

This Shocking Story

Holy Thursday Mass of the Lord’s Supper

            One of the things I find very difficult to do is to read a book more than once.  Especially if it’s a fictional book like the Grisham novel I’m in now, it’s hard for me to go over the same story a second or third time because, after I have read the book, I know where it’s going.  I know what the rising action will be, I know what the climax of the story will be, and I know how it ends.

            The difficulty with Holy Week, in particular our celebration with the Triduum, is that we hear the same readings each year.  I’m not suggesting we change that practice, because these readings are so powerful and so fitting, that we need to hear them each year.  But I think that each of us is faced with the temptation of becoming emotionally and/or spiritually numb to what is happening in these days, because, for most of us, from our earliest memories, we have heard these same readings.  Using tonight’s readings as examples, we are used to hearing about the institution of the Passover in Exodus, the institution of the Eucharist in Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, and Christ’s humble service of His apostles in the Gospel according to St. John.

            Allow me to try and shake you from this numbness, and allow the blood to start flowing again, giving us that tingling sensation as we regain our emotional and spiritual feelings.

            Tonight we celebrate a three-fold humiliation of Jesus that should shock us to our core.  Jesus, the Divine, the Omnipotent, the Omniscient, the Son of God, the one worthy of all worship and adoration, the Master, becomes a slave as He washes the feet of His apostles.  Now for most of us, our feet aren’t that bad.  Sure, they may smell a bit, but they’re generally clean because we are a society that bathes our feet regularly, that has solid coverings for our feet twice over, if you include socks and shoes.  But the apostles did not bathe as regularly as we do, and many of them probably only had sandals covering the bottom of their feet.  Even so, the dust, the mud, the bacteria, the infections from open blisters surely would have been the covering for their feet.  And Jesus, the Lord of all creation, takes off his outer garments, took a towel, and began to wash the apostles’ feet.  This was the work of a slave, not a Master; the work of a servant, not a Lord.  And so Jesus says, “‘What I am doing you do not understand now, but you will understand later.’”  Peter has the guts to speak up and say how disgusted He is that Jesus would debase Himself to do this kind of menial service.  If Jesus was really God, as the apostles were coming to learn, and as Jesus had claimed throughout His entire public ministry, then this was not the God the Jews were used to worshipping.  How could God who was usually accompanied by trumpet blasts, thunder and lightning; whom Ezekiel and Isaiah depicted as a king on a throne with angels ministering to Him constantly in a jeweled paradise quietly wash the feet of His chosen band of men? 

            And it is even more shocking that, rather than just wash our feet, Jesus wants to come down to the messiest parts of our souls and cleanse them in His blood.  He wants to bend down as we recline like honored guests and wash from our souls the dust of all the venial sins we have committed and will commit.  He wants to wash off the caked-mud of any of the grave sins we have committed and may commit.  He wants to cleanse the putrid, puss-filled wounds of those sins that have been festering on our hearts and souls for many months, or even many years.  And we, like Peter, tell Jesus, “Don’t go there!  Don’t do that!  That part of my life is not worthy of you.  It’s not right for you, my Lord, to lower yourself and see.  ‘You will never wash my feet.’”  But Jesus assures us, “‘Unless I wash you, you will have no inheritance with me.’”

            Secondly, Jesus humbles Himself by instituting the ministerial priesthood that will act in His name, starting with those Apostles.  He chooses, freely and without any force or pressure, to so identify with the men who will be called from his disciples that they are able to act in His name and in His Person.  These are not always stellar men.  They have argued with each other since they were gathered together about who was the greatest.  They come from sinful backgrounds, one of them even being a tax collector, a Roman collaborator.  One of His first priests, in fact, the priest who will act as His Vicar, the first Pope, will first deny that he even knows Jesus. 

            And the shock continues through the centuries and even today as Jesus so debases Himself that he continues to act in a special way through the priests and bishops, allowing them to use His words to change bread and wine into His Body and Blood.  Allowing men who have sinned, sometimes grievously, to forgive sins in His name: men who sometimes fight amongst themselves; some who still jostle for power and prestige; some who even deny or betray Him even to this day.  Jesus humbles Himself by allowing men who are sinners to be ordained, and entrusting His power to them, drawing them closer to Himself and drawing them to the holiness that is required to execute such a pure office.

The Upper Room where Jesus washed the feet of His Apostles,
and Instituted the Sacraments of the Eucharist
and Holy Orders

            Thirdly, Jesus humbles Himself by allowing bread and wine to become His Body and Blood, Soul and Divinity.  He becomes defenseless once more in the hands of humanity, not able to defend Himself, not opening His mouth, like an unblemished lamb led to the slaughter.  He allows the appearances of bread and wine to house His very substance, so that when we hold what looks like bread and drink what tastes like wine, we are holding and drinking none other than the Lord of Life, the Creator of all things, the true Passover Lamb.  He makes Himself so vulnerable, that, if someone wanted, they could do horrible, sacrilegious things to His Body and Blood, and He remains defenseless, protected only by our reverence and respect for Jesus in the Most Holy Sacrament of the Altar.  And still we break our 1-hour before Communion Eucharistic fasts with gum, coffee, or even regular food and drink; still we receive Jesus in a state of grave sin, knowing that we should first be cleansed by God’s loving forgiveness if we are conscious a grave sin which greatly ruptures our relationship with God; still we consider the great gift that it is to be able to receive the Eucharist as boring and commonplace, rather than the great joy it truly is to be made one with our Lord as He enters into our very body.

            Why?  Why would Jesus humble Himself in these extreme ways?  Why would He allow Himself to do such menial work; to allow chosen men, still in need of redemption themselves, to act in His person; to allow Himself to become defenseless in our hands and our mouths?  Because, “He loved his own in the world and he loved them to the end.”  Even though we know the ending of this true story, let us be shocked this evening, this beginning of the Sacred Triduum, that God would lower Himself so much, because He loves us; because He wants us that much; because “he loved [us] to the end.”

Judging People by their Covers

Fourth Sunday of Lent

            We probably heard it in school or from one of our parents: “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”  And yet, if you’re anything like me, as I’m looking for a book to buy, and if I don’t know anything about the author, I see which cover looks most interesting, and I buy that one.

            Almost instinctually we do the same thing with people.  We look at how prosperous they are, how handsome or beautiful they look, what kind of a job they have, and we assume by the cover of money, physical traits, or occupation that God loves them and has blessed them.  While those who lack prosperity, beauty, or a job we treat as if they have done something wrong and God is simply giving them the justice they deserve.

A bronze statue of David after he
beheaded Goliath from the
Tower of David, Jerusalem

            If this describes you at all, and I think it describes all of us at some points in our life, even the way we view our own life, then we can put ourselves into the role of Samuel in the first reading, who assumes that God’s choice as king must be the most handsome, the strongest, the fittest son of Jesse.  Now, Samuel was one of the greatest prophets in Israel, even if this wasn’t his best moment.  So we might not feel so bad.  But the other people who assumed that outwards prosperity was a sign of divine benevolence were the Pharisees from the Gospel today.  They assumed, because the man was born blind, that he or his parents had done something horribly wrong to merit this divine punishment. 

            Samuel at least didn’t have the benefit of the book of Job, so we can let him off the hook a little more easily than the Pharisees, who would have been familiar with the story of Job, who, though he had done nothing wrong, was allowed to endure horrible afflictions to his family, the loss of his livelihood, and even physical disease to see if his love of God was pure, or just based on earthly prosperity.  The Pharisees should have known better.  But they dismiss the man born blind as a sinner, as cursed by God.

            We still struggle with equating earthly blessings with divine favor.  If we have a good job, if we have a good family, if life is relatively easy, then we assume God loves us more.  But as soon as those so-called measures of divine favor are taken away, we assume that we have done something wrong, and that God is displeased with us. 

            The reality is that you can’t judge a book by its cover.  Some people seemingly have everything: a good job, lots of money, a handsome family, popularity, and any of the ways by which the world judges favor.  And yet, to whom much is given, much will be expected.  Sometimes what those “favors” mask are real struggles in living out the faith, in being faithful to God, in seeing the world as God sees it.  Sometimes the prosperous are really spiritually blind.  While those who have very few or even none of those “favors” have a deep and abiding relationship with God, and rely on Him because they have nothing else on which to rely.  While they seem blind, they, like the man born blind, recognize God as He comes to them, ready to accept His healing.

            The one who proves this the most is Jesus Himself.  On Good Friday we’ll hear from the Prophet Isaiah: “Even as many were amazed at him, so marred was his look beyond human semblance and his appearance beyond that of the sons of man…[and] there was in him no stately bearing to make us look at him, nor appearance that would attract us to him.  He was spurned and avoided by the people, a man of suffering, accustomed to infirmity, one of those from whom people hide their faces, spurned, and we held him in no esteem.”  We have a God who became man.  He did not come as a prince, or as a wealthy merchant, powerful and rich as He was, but instead placed Himself in the family of a carpenter, who was too poor to offer the usual sacrifices to the Lord.  We have a God who allowed Himself to be beat, crowned with thorns, stripped naked, and hung on a cross; a man who was cursed, as St. Paul says citing another passage in Scripture: “Cursed be he who hangs from a tree” so that we might receive the blessings of God’s eternal life of the Kingdom. 

But God’s blessing was never taken away from Jesus, despite his poverty, despite his death in utter shame and disgrace.  Jesus remained the source from whom all blessings flow, even though we thought of Him as accursed.  And so we cannot assume that because life seems to be going well, our souls are ready for heaven.  It could, in fact, be the opposite, if we rely on ourselves and not on God.  We cannot assume that because we suffer some shame, like the man born blind, that God is punishing us.  Because, from all eternity, God planned to allow that man to be born blind so that Jesus could reveal His true nature by the healing of a man born blind, a healing which led that man to believe in Jesus and worship Him. 

The way to know that we are being blessed by God, no matter what the trials, no matter whether or not the world thinks we are favored, is to believe in Jesus and act accordingly.  Then, at the end of time, we will be able to judge a book by its cover, because those who lived contrary to the will of God and separated themselves from Him will suffer eternally in hell, while those who followed Jesus and lived as a faithful disciple will receive their glorified body in the eternal banquet of heaven.  Blessed are those who are called to the eternal wedding feast of the Lamb.