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.

'Twas the Night of Little Giants

Second Sunday of Advent

Two weeks ago we ended our Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy.  Maybe after hearing today’s Gospel we feel like we have begun the Year of Divine Wrath!  St. John the Baptist certainly did not pull any punches.  To those who were open to him, he was preaching, “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’”  To those who weren’t open to him, the Pharisees and the Sadducees, he was even harsher: “‘You brood of vipers!  Who warned you to flee from the coming wrath?  Produce good fruit as evidence as your repentance.  […] His winnowing fan is in his hand.  He will clear his threshing floor and gather his wheat into his barn, but the chaff he will burn in unquenchable fire.”

An icon of St. John the Baptist
from outside Ein Kerem, Israel

I often wonder about how St. John the Baptist drew so many people.  He definitely had positive things to say, but a lot of what he said was somewhat harsh and critical.  Who gathers to hear the message: you are sinners and you need to shape up!?  And yet we hear about the large crowds who came to him to be baptized.  I remember walking back from the MSU-Notre Dame game (the famous one with the Little Giants play), and there was a street preacher along one of the sidewalks yelling at people to repent from their sexual immorality, their drinking, and their sinfulness in general.  I was in my collar, and as I looked at him, he said, “And don’t think you are safe because you work in the church!” or some such thing.  But people weren’t lining up to listen to him; in fact, they just walked on by. 

St. Matthew tells us that St. John the Baptist was the one who was preparing the way for the Lord.  God prepares the way for the public ministry of His Son, Jesus, by having a guy who eats locusts and honey tell people that they are sinners.  Hmmm…not the first approach I would think of if I wanted to get ready for the Messiah.

But, as Isaiah says elsewhere, God’s ways are not our ways.  And if we stop to think about it, it actually makes sense (except for the locust and honey part; I’m still not sure I get that).  We did just end the Year of Mercy, and we were rightly focused on God’s generous love which forgives us.  But love cannot be forced or faked.  God does not force His love on us (nor His mercy), and God does not give His forgiveness to those who are not sorry.  And so as odd as we may feel it is, the call to repentance is an important one.

Certainly, God’s grace starts the process.  We cannot be sorry without God enlightening us about our sins and the ways we have separated ourselves from Him.  But then we have to take the second step and acknowledge that we are wrong.  It’s one thing to think, “Maybe I shouldn’t have done X;” it’s another thing altogether to say, “I sinned when I did X.”  And it is only after we say “I sinned when I did X” and are sorry for whatever X is and make a resolution to not do X again that God can forgive us, because it is only after recognizing our sinfulness and our need for being forgiven that we will be open enough to receive God’s forgiveness.

The call to repentance and to admitting we have sinned is vitally important, of eternal importance, because only when we admit we have sinned and repent are we able to be forgiven.  Without someone to remind us that we are not perfect, that we don’t have everything figured out in our life, that we are sinners, we are not in a disposition to receive the mercy of God which we just focused on for the past year.  We need people in our life like St. John the Baptist to tell us we are sinners, not to beat us up, not to make us despair, but to prepare the road that Jesus wants to take to our hearts.  

Is it hard to admit that we’re wrong?  I’m a perfectionist, and it’s hard for me.  But it’s the truth.  I am a sinner.  And I don’t have to be Hitler or Stalin to accuse myself of sin.  We are all sinners, and we all need to repent.  We all have things in our life that are not of God and which have damaged or even severed our relationship with God.  Maybe we are afraid of guilt; maybe we don’t like that feeling.  But feeling guilty is a sign that our conscience, the voice of God in our hearts, is working properly and is properly formed by the Word of God and the teaching of the Church.  I don’t worry about the kid who cries after being caught doing something wrong in our school; I worry about the kid who feels nothing after being caught doing something wrong.

But God does not intend for us to remain in our guilt.  Guilt is meant to move us to repentance and the Sacrament of Penance.  How long has it been since you confessed your sins in the Sacrament of Penance, the way Jesus taught us to receive His forgiveness?  A month? Six months? A year? Five years? Ten years? Twenty years?  No matter how long it has been, do not let it last one more month.  God wants to shower His mercy upon you, and is waiting for you to respond to His grace to go to the Sacrament.  I’ll be glad to help you through the process if you’ve forgotten how to celebrate the sacrament or your Act of Contrition.  Or we’ll have other priests here on Sunday, 18 December at 3 p.m. to hear your confession.  The Year of Mercy is over, but God’s mercy endure for ever.  “‘Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand!’”