Our Surpassing God

Third Sunday of Easter

Grand Tetons National Park

    About halfway through 2020, and about 5 months into “14 days to flatten the curve,” I decided to travel to a national park.  I was sick of being cooped up in Flint, and needed to get away to destress from all the new stress of COVID that we pastors had to deal with as we learned how to shepherd people during a pandemic.  While I knew a flight was not going to be great, I did look forward to going somewhere far away where I could enjoy the outdoors and not have to wear a mask.  So I looked to our national park system, and decided to visit Grand Tetons and Yellowstone National Parks.  I had looked forward to being less encumbered by COVID protocols, but the views I had from the two national parks out west were spectacular and far surpassed any expectations I had for parks I had heard about, but never visited.
    In both our first reading and our Gospel, we hear about expectations that God far surpassed.  In the first reading, St. Peter, on the day of Pentecost, tells the Jews that Jesus has fulfilled the prophecy of David, but did so in a very unexpected way.  And in the Gospel, Jesus Himself enlightens the disciples on the road to Emmaus about the ways that God had foretold the Messiah.
    For David, God had made a promise that his descendants would always sit upon the throne of Israel.  And I’m sure David considered this promise as a guarantee that his sons would always rule over Israel as earthly kings.  That was exciting enough.  But David, too, prophesied in the psalms that God would not abandon David to the netherworld, nor let his holy one (perhaps David used this title to refer to himself) undergo corruption.  But God far surpassed what David expected.  God made one of David’s children, Jesus, an eternal king in heaven whose reign would never end because Jesus has a kingdom which lasts forever.  And God did not let the truly Holy One, Jesus, undergo corruption, nor let Jesus remain in the abode of the dead, but raised Him to new life.  David thought that what God would do was glorious enough from an earthly standpoint.  But what God really was going to do would have blown David’s mind.
    Likewise, for the disciples on the road to Emmaus, they knew the prophecies about the Messiah, David’s son.  They knew that Moses prophesied about a future prophet to whom the Chosen People must listen.  They knew that God would provide a Davidic king who would trample Israel’s enemies and restore glory to the Chosen People from their oppressors.  But again, they thought of the Messiah in earthly ways.  They wanted a king who would throw out the Romans and restore an earthly kingdom to Israel.  But God did better: He destroyed the true enemy of Israel, sin and death, and established a heavenly kingdom that could never be conquered by any power in heaven or on earth.  And in that kingdom swords would be changed into plows, and spears into pruning hooks, and the lion and the lamb would lie down together and dwell in peace.  Those who heard these prophecies of Isaiah probably thought them to be hyperbole, but God intended it much more realistically, where, in God’s reign, there would be no more war, death, sorrow, or disease, and harmony would be the hallmark of God’s kingdom.
    When we think about what we think God wants, our earthly vantage point often limits us.  We have something good in mind, but perhaps it’s not all that great.  It may have a certain excellence from an earthly point of view, but God wants much more than our limited minds could ever hope for or anticipate.  His plan excels ours as much as diamonds excel fools gold.  But we get stuck in our ways and our views and so do not see, like the disciples on the road to Emmaus, what God really can do and has done for us.  When our measly projects don’t come to fruition the way we wanted, we, too, can become downcast.
    In the midst of our dashed earthly hopes, we should turn to the Lord and ask Him to enlighten us with His plans and what He has done, which is far greater than our own plans and expectations.  We do this through reading the Word of God, through daily prayer, and through our worthy reception of Holy Communion.  We come to Christ, like the disciples, and let Him know that we don’t understand what God is doing, and ask Him to show us the way, to show us the great things that He has done, so that we can appreciate them.  And God–the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit–will open our eyes to His plan and His great deeds in our lives and the lives of others, which accomplish far more than we could ever hope for or imagine.
    In August, 2020, I wanted to get away and live a freer life, without social distancing, without masks, without living like a prisoner in my own home.  I went out west, thinking that at least it would allow me to accomplish those goals.  But as I toured through Grand Tetons National Park and Yellowstone National Park, I experienced such natural beauty and grandeur, that it not only refreshed my body, but even lifted up my mind and my soul as I stood in wonder and awe of what God had made, and what He allowed me to experience as part of my inheritance as a citizen of our great country and an adopted child of the God who made such magnificent mountains and grand geysers.  God surpassed my hopes, and He wants to surpass yours.  Do not let your hearts droop down when our limited goals and desires do not come to fruition.  Bring them to God, and see the great things He wants to do for us, things that surpass our hopes and dreams.

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.

Why?

Third Sunday of Easter

    There’s this age that a child reaches, and it varies by child, where the child wants to know why.  And, for some children, that seems to be the main word that comes out of their mouth: why?  “It’s time to go to bed.”  “Why?”  “We’re going to see grandpa and grandma.”  “Why?”  “Eat your vegetables.”  “Why?” 
    Peter in our first reading, and Jesus in the Gospel are answering the question “why”, without a child asking it.  Peter talks to the Jews gathered in Jerusalem for Pentecost, and Jesus talks to the disciples on the road to Emmaus.  In both cases, there is confusion about who Jesus is, and why what happened happened.  Jesus, and Peter, following His example, open up how the Old Testament pointed to what happened to God’s Messiah and Son, Jesus.  The Passion, Death, and Resurrection weren’t simply accidents or forces stronger than Jesus to which He had to submit.  The Passion, Death, and Resurrection were all part of God’s plan from the beginning, culminating in new life for all those joined to Jesus and following Him.
    We call this treatment of the overarching theme of salvation history the kerygma, from the Greek word meaning proclamation or preaching.  It is the telling of how God has saved His people.  And it is a message that needs to be heard, not only among the unbaptized and those who do not know Christ, but even among the baptized, even among those who go to church every Sunday.
    Because it’s easy, especially for certain generations or personality types, to do what we’re told is right simply because we’re told it’s the right thing to do, or a person in authority tells us to do it.  But for others, they want to know why.  They want to know the deeper reality behind the rules, or else they will often leave due to their own lack of understanding.
    So do we know the story of salvation?  Could we explain it to someone?  I’m not talking about doing a doctoral dissertation on different aspects of the faith, but being able to explain, as St. Peter says, our reason for hope, and how God was working from creation to the Resurrection, Ascension, and Pentecost for the salvation of the world, and continues to work today?
    To understand salvation, we have to first believe that we needed to be saved.  And we have to know from what we needed to be saved.  This takes us back to Genesis.  God created Adam and Eve without sin.  They had everything the need, and enjoyed friendship with God.  But then they traded friendship with God for trying to be their own gods on their own terms, and sin entered the world.  A rupture was created between God and humanity, a rupture which we could not heal ourselves. 
    From that point on, every person needed a savior.  No matter how good a person could be (think Abraham, Moses, and David), they could never be “good enough” to earn heaven.  But God did not abandon His people.  He was helping them to learn how to be like God on His terms, not on their own.  God gave the law through Moses as an instructor, to help form virtues in each person, and to encourage them to say no to sin and yes to God.  But even though some approached following the entire law, no one did it perfectly, as God’s own people, the Israelites, would often wander away from His rule, because they thought they were doing fine on their own.  The prophets would call them back, but people generally ignored the prophets.  So God allowed the consequences of their sinful actions to fall upon them, which, more often than not, made the people realize that they had abandoned God, and returned to Him. 
    God’s preparation of His people culminated in sending His Son, Jesus, who would not just teach a new law, but would, because He is truly God and truly man, be able to repair the sin of Adam and Eve, and reconcile God back to Himself, and open heaven, a paradise even better than the Garden of Eden.  In God’s mysterious plan, our rejection of God the Son became part of the way that we were saved and that heaven was opened.  Jesus took upon Himself our punishment for sin (death), but conquered sin and death, which victory was proven in His Resurrection.  After the Resurrection Jesus, especially through His Church after He ascended into heaven, calls people to be joined to Him to receive the gift of eternal salvation by saying yes to God to the best of our ability each day.  Fr. John Riccardo, a priest of the Archdiocese of Detroit, summarizes the kerygma by putting it into 4 words: created; captured; rescued; response.  That’s it.  That’s the basic of salvation history. 
    We probably knew parts of it, if not all of it.  But now our challenge is not only to make sure that we do follow Christ throughout our life, but also that we help others to recognize the basics of salvation, because they need it, or need to be reminded of it.  And without knowing it, others, or maybe even we ourselves, are more at risk for walking away from the gift of salvation that Jesus offers us. 
    Being Catholic is not just about following the rules, but is about doing those things because of our relationship with Christ.  Others want to know: why should I have a relationship with Christ?  Can we now share with them the answer?
 

"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

Encountering the Risen Christ

Third Sunday of Easter
    The question on a lot of people’s minds these days is: what is life going to be like after the Stay at Home order?  Even with financial assistance, some businesses have shut their doors for good.  Will people ever shake hands again, or stand close to each other?  What will next school year be like for the students who have not been in a school building since 14 April?  Will people go back to church in larger numbers?
    What will make the difference?  Is there a magic bullet that will bring back everyone to church and have them practicing their faith?  Is there something that a person can do that will make it more likely to attend Mass and practice the entirety of the faith, rather than simply falling away after this time of not having public access to the sacraments?
    What made the difference in the Apostles and the disciples?  What was it that these generally uneducated men, and made them the greatest group of missionaries in the history of Christianity?  What was it that made the disciples cling to their faith in Jesus even as the government tortured and put them to death in very gruesome ways?
    The difference was that they knew Jesus.  They had encountered Jesus in their life, and they were open to the Lord changing them through that encounter.  Sometimes that encounter happened in marvelous ways, like when Jesus told Peter to put out into the deep, even though Peter had caught nothing after an entire night of fishing; like when Jesus simply looked at Matthew and said, “Follow me.”  Sometimes that encounter happened through curiosity and wanting to find out more, like so many who heard about this itinerant rabbi who was not only teaching with authority, but also healing people.  But they knew Jesus. 
    Knowing Jesus is different than simply being around Him.  Think of the Bread of Life discourse in John, chapter six.  The people there were around Jesus, they even saw Him multiply bread and fish for thousands of people.  And yet, when the teaching got tough, most of them did not stay with Jesus, but walked away.  Think about the crowds who were caught up in welcoming Jesus as He entered into Jerusalem the week of His Passion.  They cheered Him on and waved palm branches.  And yet, this same crowd, five days later, clamored for his crucifixion.  Even most of those who did know Him, the Apostles, were not there when Jesus died.  But then, we heard Peter proclaim in our first reading that Jesus is truly the Messiah, the one chosen by God.  Even after a failure, Peter could practice his faith because He knew Jesus and knew He was risen.
    The disciples on the road to Emmaus had been around Jesus, but it took Jesus Himself opening up the Old Testament and breaking bread for them to recognize Jesus.  But once they did, they were ready to tell others that Jesus was risen.  Their encounter with the Lord, though started in ignorance, ended with a new way of life for those two disciples.
    So for us, have we encountered Jesus?  If we have, then we can survive any tribulation and suffering.  Where do we encounter Jesus?  In the Word of God, the Scriptures.  I would encourage everyone to find a good Bible study and read the Scriptures.  It is through them that we encounter Jesus.  I pray with the Scriptures, like every priest, bishop, and consecrated man or woman, 4 times per day, and I can’t tell you how often I’m reading a psalm or a passage, and I just know that God is speaking to me through it.
    We encounter God in the Sacraments, in the 7 ways that God does great work to make us saints.  While many only happen once, I think of especially the Sacrament of Penance, where we encounter God in His mercy and forgiveness.  Maybe not always, but often the words of counsel that the priest gives me before I make my Act of Contrition, touches my heart and I realize I am in the presence of God. 
    We encounter God in the love and charity that we show to another.  Especially in these trying times, I think that we recognize God through people going out of their way to be loving and charitable to each other, rather than the nastiness to which we have become so accustomed.  As “Les Miserables” says, “To love another person is to see the face of God.”
    And last, and greatest, we encounter God in the Mass.  Of course, this isn’t as possible now as before.  As good as it is that I can live-stream this Mass for you, it’s not the same, and it’s not the way the Mass is supposed to be.  You, the People of God, are meant to be here, uniting your sacrifices with the bread and the wine, offered to God the Father in the one, perfect sacrifice of Jesus on the cross.  Presence is important.  The disciples on the road to Emmaus finally recognized Jesus in the Eucharist.  And in the Eucharist, we not only encounter God, but God enters into us in a most intimate way.  If we’re not encountering God in the Mass, then we have lacked something that we should be doing, because God is always making Himself present to us in the Mass, and it reminds us that maybe we’re holding back.
    There are other ways to encounter God, but these are four great ones.  And if we have encountered God, before, and hopefully during, this pandemic, then we’ll pick up right were we left off in our faith life.  We will come to worship God; we will share the good news of the Resurrection and the new life that Jesus offers us through Him and only Him; we will let the love of God flow through us like a current of electricity that lights up every one with whom we come in contact.  But that will only happen if we have encountered God.  Think about it: when was the last time you encountered God? 

Pope of Carman Hills

Third Sunday of Easter

Sometimes people don’t quite get it.  This past Thursday I decided to go to the Powers Boys Lacrosse game.  They were playing at Davison.  While the first half wasn’t so great, Powers managed to get their offense going, and really did well on defense, and ended up winning 12-6.  At the end of the game, we all lined up to shake hands and say good game.  As I passed one of the Davison players and shook his hand, I heard him say as they passed me, “Dude, they brought their pope!”  Now, to be clear, I have no aspirations of being anything other than a parish priest.  But maybe if Fr. Tom Firestone can be the Pope of Flint, then I could be the Pope of Carman Hills!

The disciples in today’s Gospel were the ones who didn’t quite get it.  We’ve heard this Gospel passage before, and we’re probably quite familiar with it.  On Easter Sunday, the very day Jesus rose from the dead, two disciples, one of who was named Cleopas are walking away from Jerusalem.  They had heard Mary Magdalen tell the apostles that Jesus was risen from the dead, but they don’t believe her.  They figure all their hope that Jesus truly was the Messiah is hopeless.  And then this guy comes up to walk beside them, though they don’t recognize Him.  

As they walk, this guy talks about how the suffering of the Messiah was prophesied by the entire Old Testament, and He gives them the different passages that refer to the Messiah and how they were fulfilled.  As the two approach Emmaus, the guy acts like He’s going farther.  But they invite Him to stay with them, because it’s dark, and there would likely be robbers along the road.  So the guy stays with them, and says the blessing of the bread, breaks it, and gives it to them.  At that, “their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.”  They then run back to tell the others that they, too, have seen the risen Lord.

Even though these two disciples had been with Jesus for some time, maybe even all three years, spending days and nights with Jesus, only rarely leaving His side, they didn’t quite get it.  They didn’t understand why the Messiah had to suffer and die, and they didn’t believe He rose from the dead.  It takes Jesus being present with them, opening up the Word of God, and especially the breaking of bread for them to recognize Him.

Do we quite get it?  Or do we walk through this world downcast, as if our hope in Jesus wasn’t worth much?  Do we live as if Jesus has not been raised from the dead?

In essence, the story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus is a paradigm for the Mass.  Think about it: there’s a walk, we might call it a procession; the Lord is with them; the Word of God is opened up by Jesus; and then Jesus blesses bread, breaks it, and gives it to the disciples.  This should sound familiar, because it’s what happens at every Mass.  The priest, acting in the Person of Christ the Head, processes into the sanctuary; he says, “The Lord be with you;”  the Word of God is proclaimed from the Old Testament, New Testament, and is applied in the homily; then the priest, still acting in the Person of Christ the Head, changes the bread and wine into the Body and Blood of Christ by the power of the Holy Spirit, and the Eucharist is then given to those who follow Jesus in the one Church He established.  The Second Vatican Council says it this way: 

“[Christ] is present in the sacrifice of the Mass, not only in the person of His minister, ‘the same now offering, through the ministry of priests, who formerly offered himself on the cross’, but especially under the Eucharistic species.  […] He is present in His word, since it is He Himself who speaks when the holy scriptures are read in the Church.  He is presently, lastly, when the Church prays and sings, for He promised: ‘Where two or three are gathered together in my name, there I am in the midst of them’.”  

Each Mass, and especially on Sunday, the first day of the week, the very day of the Resurrection, we might say we relive the road to Emmaus.  

But there is another part to the story which I didn’t mention.  After the encounter with Jesus on the road to Emmaus, the disciples run back to tell the others about Jesus being risen from the dead.  This encounter with Jesus changes them and they can’t help but talk about seeing Jesus.  Do we relive this part of Emmaus?  Does our encounter with Jesus so affect us that we want to tell others about Jesus, risen from the dead?

There has been a lot of ink spilled recently about encountering Jesus.  There are many programs and retreats that encourage such an encounter with Jesus, and many of them are good!  But the Mass is the pre-eminent place to encounter Jesus.  It is the place where we, most often, get to spend time with Jesus.  Yes, it’s the same basic format every week.  But this unchanging format allows us the opportunity to enter more deeply into the Mass, rather than remaining at a superficial level at all the stuff that is different.  

If we’re not encountering Jesus in the Mass, then why are we not?  Is Jesus holding Himself back?  Certainly not.  It isn’t all about feelings; we can encounter Jesus without having a gushy, emotional response.  But we should have some sense that we have spent time with Jesus.  And if we don’t, then maybe we haven’t brought our full attention to the Mass, or having been holding something back from Jesus.  Today we have the opportunity, as we do every Sunday and every time we come to Mass, to encounter Jesus walking with us, opening the Word of God for us, and giving Himself to us in the Eucharist.  Hopefully we are open so that the Mass will transform us as it transformed the disciples on the road to Emmaus.

Where's Jesus?

Third Sunday of Easter

           

Some of you may remember a series of books that either you, or your children owned, or maybe even they own one now.  The series was called Where’s Waldo, and these books were picture books.  The point of each illustration was to find a little guy named Waldo, who was in a red and white striped shirt, with a red and white striped stocking cap on and glasses.  Some were easy, some were hard.  For me, it was a great way to pass the time waiting in a doctor’s office, or on a long road trip.

            Our main concern in this life should not be where’s Waldo, but should be where’s Jesus.  You don’t have to buy a set of picture books looking for a guy in a white tunic with a red sash over it, hidden among other people and scenes.  Our vocation is, rather, to find Jesus as He makes Himself known to us.  One primary place to find Jesus is in the Scriptures.

            That’s what St. Peter did as he spoke to the Jews in our first reading today.  Having been filled with the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, Peter proclaimed to the people that Jesus was the Messiah, and that He had been raised from the dead.  St. Peter saw Jesus in the Old Testament, in the only Scriptures that existed at that time.  He saw Jesus in Psalm 16 as he quoted King David: “…because you will not abandon my soul to the netherworld, nor will you suffer your holy one to see corruption.  You have made known to me the paths of life; you will fill me with joy in your presence.”  St. Peter, who had likely read that Psalm countless times as an observant Jew, saw it in a new light, saw the reference to Jesus, who was not allowed to see corruption, nor abandoned to the netherworld, but raised up. 

            The disciples on the road to Emmaus have Jesus Himself open up the Old Testament for them, showing them how it refers to Him.  And while they do not at first recognize Jesus walking with them, their hearts burn within them as He helps them to understand how Jesus fulfills all the prophecies of the Old Testament.  Who knows exactly what passages Jesus explained to them, but we can see from the very beginning, in Genesis, how a redeemer is promised as God tells the serpent, in Adam and Eve’s presence: “‘I will put enmity between you and the woman, and between your offspring and hers; He will strike at your head, while you strike at his heel.’”  That offspring, striking the head of the serpent, is Jesus. 

In our Eucharistic Prayer that we hear today, the Roman Canon, we hear three important persons from Genesis that refer to or prefigure Jesus: 1) Abel the just, the son of Adam and Eve, who offered a pleasing sacrifice to God, and was yet killed by his own brother, Cain, just as Jesus offered Himself as the acceptable sacrifice, as He was killed by his own; 2) Abraham, our father in faith, whom God asked to sacrifice his beloved, his only son, Isaac, though at the last minute an angel stayed his hand, just as God offered His beloved, His only Son, Jesus, but did not stay His hand; 3) Melchizedek, the king of Salem, which means king of peace, who appears without any lineage, without beginning or end, and is priest of the Most High God, though not of the Levitical priesthood, and who offers bread and wine, just as Jesus, the True Priest, without beginning or end, changes the bread and wine we offer into His Body and Blood, “a holy sacrifice, a spotless victim.”

Or perhaps Jesus spoke to the disciples on the road about the suffering servant chapters of Isaiah, chapters 49, 50, 52, and 53, describing the suffering of Jesus.  Or maybe Jeremiah 20, where all gather to attack the just one and cause trouble for him on every side.  Or maybe Wisdom 2, where the wicked plan to attack the just man, because he is obnoxious to them, and calls himself a child of the Lord, and reproaches them for transgressions of the Law.  Or maybe he explained how Hosea 6 says, “‘Come, let us return to the Lord, For it is he who has rent, but he will heal us; he has struck us, but he will bind our wounds.  He will revive after two days; on the third day he will raise us up.’”  Or maybe he quoted for them Zechariah 12:10: “and they shall look upon him whom they have thrust through, and they shall mourn for him as one mourns for an only son, and they shall grieve over him as one grieves over a firstborn.”

Some of those passages or chapters may sound familiar, as we read them during Lent.  But these are just scratching the surface.  Jesus reveals Himself though the Word of God, the Scriptures.  But can we find Him?  Do we have eyes to see and ears to hear?  Whether it’s the Old or the New Testament, do we come to know Jesus through reading the Bible?  It’s not always easy, but it helps us to know Jesus better.  And for those tricky passages we offer Bible studies, or small faith-sharing groups, to help you to recognize Jesus better and better each time you read the Word of God. 

St. Jerome said that ignorance of Scriptures is ignorance of Christ.  Do we know Jesus?  Is our view of Jesus consistent with how He revealed Himself in the Word of God?  Do we read the Word of God?  And if we do, do our hearts burn within us as Jesus is made known?  If you don’t read the Bible every day, now is the time to start.  Start with the New Testament, just one chapter per night.  I read the entire New Testament in a year, and the entire Old Testament in a year.  It’s doable.  And, especially for those tough passages, pick up a good Bible Study, or join one, or see what the Catechism says about those passages with the Scripture index in the back.  If we are open to the Word of God, which always is meant to prepare us for Jesus making Himself known through the breaking of the bread, the Eucharist, then our lives will be changed, for the better, and we won’t have to hunt for Jesus, but we will recognize Him in the ways He reveals Himself to us.