Seeing the Risen Jesus

Solemnity of Easter

The entrance to the aediculum

   [In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen.]  One of the most memorable things that I experienced when I went to the Holy Land for the first time in 2007 as a seminarian was attending Mass at the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem, the place where Jesus died and rose from the dead.  At the place where the tomb was, there is a small building inside the church called the aediculum, and inside that aediculum is where a slab of stone rests that held the dead body of our Lord.  The Franciscans gave us permission to have Mass there one day.  The way Mass works in that space is that the Liturgy of the Word/Mass of Catechumens happens outside the aediculum.  For the Liturgy of the Eucharist/Mass of the Faithful, the priest enters the aediculum and says the Eucharist Prayer inside there, which you can hear, but not see, because of how small it is inside.
    The great moment is when the priest gets to the point where he says, “Behold, the Lamb of God,” because the priest leaves the aediculum, and, holding the Body of the Lord above the chalice says, while showing the Eucharist to the people.  Part of the power is that this is the same risen Lord, coming from His tomb, alive for us to see, though of course under sacramental signs.
    As we celebrate Easter today, we remember the event that changed the course of human history.  While the Prophet Elisha had raised a person from the dead in the Old Testament, and our Lord had raised the daughter of Jairus, the son of the widow of Nain, and Lazarus from the dead, the resurrection was altogether different.  Our Lord’s Body no longer suffered under the restrictions of the physical world, as we will hear next Sunday when we hear about Him entering a locked room through the door.  While the Body was certainly His, and bore the marks of His crucifixion, in a glorified state there was something different about it.  I often imagine it as having a slight glow to it, though maybe that was not the case.  It was different enough that the disciples on the road to Emmaus didn’t recognize Christ as He walked with them, until He broke bread in a room with them.  
    But that event that changed everything, starting really with Good Friday and culminating with Easter Sunday, we celebrate and enter into each Sunday in particular, and each time we come to Mass more generally.  At the Mass, we begin by acknowledging that we are sinners and that Christ suffered for us and because of us.  We stand at the foot of the Cross and nail our sins there with Christ so that they can be forgiven.  We offer our lives–the joys and sorrows, pain and comforts, work and leisure–since the last time we attended Mass united to the perfect offering of Christ to His heavenly Father on Calvary.  We stand there at Calvary and hear God’s word proclaimed to help us understand what work God does in our lives.  And then, during the Eucharist Prayer/Canon of the Mass, we enter into Christ’s offering of Himself on the cross, and His burial in the tomb.  In fact, the Catechism of the Catholic Church references how the altar, besides being symbol of Christ Himself and the Cross, also symbolizes the tomb.
    And that is perhaps a bit clearer as we celebrate Mass facing the Lord together, or ad Dominum.  During the three days between Good Friday and Easter Sunday, Christ’s Body laid in the tomb, unseen by all others.  After the elevations which follow the words of institution, the words that Christ Himself spoke (“This is my Body”; “This is my Blood), Christ is not seen by the faithful in the pews until the priest shows the Body of Christ while saying, “Behold the Lamb of God.”  This is, as it were, Christ breaking forth from the tomb, and appearing before His disciples after the Resurrection.  The same experience I had in Jerusalem, of seeing Christ in the Eucharist come forth from His tomb you can experience as I remove the Body of Christ from the tomb of the altar and He rises so that you all can see Him and His glorified Body, which is not limited in the way our bodies are limited.
    And the Lord does not just show Himself from afar as I show Him to you.  At the time for the reception of Holy Communion, He comes near to you, as He came near to Mary Magdalene at the tomb or as He came near the Blessed Mother, the Apostles, and the disciples in the Upper Room.  He stands right before you, and then even enters in to you to bring that power of the Resurrection into your individual lives.
    And what is our response, then?  The same as the disciples who realized that Christ was risen: they had to tell other disciples, and, after Pentecost, everyone.  Knowing that Christ had died, but that He was truly risen, they could not remain silent, but shared that joy and the transformation of their lives that the Resurrection made.  Death no longer had the last say.  Sin no longer could hold them in slavery.  They could not contain the joy of that revelation, but had to tell others.  And so should we.  The joy of this day should cast away all sorrow and fear and lead us to greater holiness of life.

Inside the aediculum

    Christ has risen from the dead.  It is not just a past event, but a reality that we get to join every Sunday, which the Church calls a “little Easter.”  May we recognize the Risen Christ as we see and receive Him in the Eucharist, the Lamb of God, who with the Father and the Holy Spirit, live and reign for ever and ever.

Live the Resurrection!

Easter Sunday

As I composed this homily, the news reports were updating hour-by-hour about the fire at the Cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris.  I saw videos of the smoke, the flames, the collapse of the spire.  I saw news that the Blessed Sacrament and the crown of thorns, as well as artwork, had been saved, which was great news.  Notre Dame, the building, is itself a work of art of Gothic architecture.  It was begun in 1160, and most completed by 1260, though it was desecrated during the French Revolution, and then had to be restored beginning in 1845.

The collapse of this building reflects the collapse of the soul of France, once referred to as the Church’s eldest daughter.  According to a 2011 study, only 11% of Frenchmen attend church weekly.  I remember a British professor I had at college, who attended a Church of England boarding school during his childhood, and told us that he asked a classmate if he was going home for Easter.  His classmate asked why?  What was so special about Easter?  

Now, since you’re here today, I’m sure you know what’s so special about Easter.  This is the quintessential description of preaching to the choir.  You chose to get up this morning and come to Mass.  Some of you I see every weekend.  Some of you are visitors.  But you’re here to celebrate Easter, which doesn’t celebrate bunnies, or peeps, or even pretty flowers.  We celebrate Jesus risen from the dead, the Resurrection of Jesus, and the new life that He gained for all of us.

A tapestry of the Resurrection from the Vatican Museums

But I think that we, even as Catholics, even if I am preaching to the choir, have lost our identity, much like the people of France, though maybe not as badly.  Now, a 2014 study found that 47% of Christians go to Church weekly, but a 2018 Gallup poll put that number for Catholics at around 39% for the years 2014-2017.  That’s only 4 out of every 10 people.  

Easter, I think has become like the 4th of July.  It’s important, we celebrate it in some particular way, but it doesn’t change our lives.  It’s a day to think back, maybe even be grateful, but nothing beyond that.  Maybe we get together with family; maybe we cook out.  If we’re here at church, we might even get the family picture that at least one of the family members doesn’t really want (maybe all of them, except, of course, mom).  But then, tomorrow’s just another day, another 24-hour period in the monotony of life.

St. Peter didn’t see it that way.  In our first reading he talks about the power of the Resurrection of Jesus, and talks about the power of forgiveness of sins.  Jesus is the fulfillment of the hopes and dreams of the Chosen People, the Jews, to whom all the prophets bore witness.  And it changed Peter and changed the way he lived his life.  Certainly, he was still Peter, still sometimes a bit impetuous and talking before thinking, but converted, changed, for the better by a man that he knew had died, but whom he had also seen risen from the dead.  

It didn’t start that way.  St. Peter and St. John ran to the tomb that first Easter Sunday morning.  They had been told by St. Mary Magdalene that Jesus was no longer in the tomb, and so they both ran to the tomb.  They went in, saw the burial cloths, and the cloth that had covered his head in a different location.  But “they did not yet understand the Scripture that [Jesus] had to rise from the dead.”  And then, that evening, in the Upper Room, Jesus appeared to them, and to all gathered there, and said, “Peace be with you.”  And 50 days later, those same followers of Jesus would be filled with the Holy Spirit to proclaim that Jesus is Lord and Jesus is alive, with all that that message entailed.  And every day thereafter, Peter lived with hope that if he continued to follow Jesus’ teachings, that new life would await him, too, a life eternally happy with Jesus in heaven.

Did he do it perfectly?  St. Paul had to confront him about being inconsistent when it came to requiring others to follow the Law of Moses.  And even at the end, St. Peter at first ran away from being martyred.  But in the end, he was faithful to Christ, so much so, that he also was crucified, but upside down because he didn’t feel worthy to die like his Master.

Today changes everything.  Life after the Resurrection is different.  But sometimes I think we live like it doesn’t matter, like Jesus is dead.  If we have faith, if we truly follow Jesus, then we do all we can to treat others the way He did; to be faithful to the will of God the Father and to the truth like He did; to sacrifice for others like He did.  It’s not possible on our own.  We cannot do it without the grace of God.  And even if we try to be open to the grace of God, we may not do it perfectly, but it’s the all-encompassing goal of our life.  And we celebrate that Resurrection as often as we can, not simply because we like celebrating, but because it’s a reminder of who we’re called to be.  

Each Sunday we celebrate the Resurrection.  Each Sunday is called a “little Easter.”  It gives us grace to live like Jesus, and it reminds us that we should want to live like Jesus.  Each day I put on a small piece of cloth around my neck called a scapular.  It’s in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary, and it reminds me that I belong to her and her Son, Jesus.  Some of you are married.  Suppose that you took off your wedding ring at the end of each day.  If you didn’t put it on each day, it would be harder to remember that there is a person to whom you are committed for life.  You belong to each other and to God.  Coming each Sunday is putting on that scapular; it’s putting on that wedding ring.  It reminds us to whom we belong.  Can you still belong to Jesus even if you don’t come to Mass each Sunday?  Sure!  But what belonging will mean for you will be far lesser than what Jesus intends it to mean.  

Don’t let the Resurrection be just another day.  Don’t let Easter be a once-a-year celebration.  Live the Resurrection each day of your life, as one who belongs to Jesus.  Live in the new life that Jesus won for you by His Blood when He died and rose from the dead.