Celebrating Pentecost 2020 Like the First One

Solemnity of Pentecost

    Welcome back to Mass (albeit, in smaller numbers than usual and celebrated a little differently than usual)!  It’s providential that at our first weekend back we celebrate the Solemnity of Pentecost.  Remember that the disciples were in the Upper Room, and had been waiting there since the Ascension, when Jesus told them to wait for the promised gift of the Spirit.  That would have been nine days earlier.  They probably weren’t keeping social distancing, but maybe they didn’t have anyone to cut their hair, either.  But they used that extended period of waiting to pray for the gift of the Holy Spirit, even as they were sad at not being able to be close to the physical presence of Jesus.  I know many of you, and I hope all of you, have used this time away from the Mass to grow closer to Jesus through personal prayer, or watching the Mass on TV or online.  You’ve been waiting to return to that closeness with the glorified Body of Jesus in the Eucharist.  Have you been praying the Rosary more, or reading Scripture more?  What ways have you exercised new spiritual muscles during this 2+ month period of fasting from attending Mass?
    What also makes this providential is that at Pentecost, having prayed for the Spirit, and then having received it, the disciples went out and proclaimed the Good News that Jesus was risen from the dead, and that He has given new life to all those who follow Him: a new way of life on this earth, and eternal life in heaven.  They spoke, as we hear in the Acts of the Apostles, in different languages so that everyone could understand them.  And I hope that the same thing will happen to you as you leave this “Upper Room.”  Has you have received the Holy Spirit in baptism and confirmation, and as you will soon be nourished with the Body and Blood of Jesus in the Eucharist, you will have everything you need to be like the disciples and tell others about Jesus. 
    This is the point where Catholics get a little nervous, I know.  Some may feel like they’re ill-equipped to evangelize, to spread the Gospel.  And certainly, as St. Paul says in his first Letter to the Corinthians, there are different gifts.  We are not all given the same gifts for building up the Church.  But at the same time, as St. Paul says in the Letter to the Romans, the Holy Spirit “comes to the aid of our weakness.”  We did not receive a Spirit of fear, but of power from the Lord, to accomplish the work He wants us to. 
    But you might still feel like you don’t know what to do.  Is the Holy Spirit going to make you talk in different languages?  Perhaps He will, like He did for the disciples at the first Pentecost.  But, perhaps for you speaking in different languages is speaking in a way that another person understands, even if you’re both speaking in English.  At the core of spreading the Gospel is telling people why Jesus makes a difference in your life.  Of course, this presumes that He does.  Maybe a honest reflection means that we’re in need of more convincing of this in our own life.  But, we probably all have stories about how Jesus helped us in life, or got us through a rough patch, or changed the way we interacted with people, used our money, or engaged in our work.  If you don’t have a short story of how Jesus has impacted your life, then today go home and think about it. 
    The story may be a powerful one, like this one: When my sister, Amanda, was hit in a bad car accident, she later told me that while she was waiting for the ambulance to arrive, as the van was pinned on her right arm, but still conscious, she was praying Hail Marys to try and keep her calm.  That’s definitely a witness to the different Jesus and Mary can make in life.  Amanda still had scarring, and had a number of surgeries and a long rehab, but her faith helped her to pull through.
    The story may be an everyday account.  The other day, when returning from a death notification with the State Police, I decided to try out Smoothie King.  It was only Tuesday, and the week had already been difficult, for reasons that don’t really matter here.  In any case, I ordered a small, but then when I got to the window, I was offered a medium that, with my coupon, was about the same price as the small.  I said ok, and they asked me to pull ahead while they made my order.  A few minutes later they came out with two smoothies.  They told me that they had made both the small and the medium, and figured they would give me both.  That was a sign, albeit small, of Jesus’ love, something I really needed at that point in my day. 
    Evangelization is partly telling the story of Jesus, and I bet you know the highlights better than you think, and partly telling the story of Jesus in our life, which only you can tell.  Sometimes the Spirit drives us to be a priest, to serve the people of God, in different towns across a diocese, or maybe even as a missionary in a far-off land.  Sometimes the Spirit gives us the gift to be a spouse and a parent, and to tell our story to other family members, or co-workers, or maybe even people we don’t know in our communities.  But we’ve had 10 Sundays to pray and prepare for being here today.  Let’s not waste the Body and Blood of Christ and the gift of the Holy Spirit that we received in Baptism and Confirmation, that same Spirit that was given at Pentecost, but rather use these great vehicles of grace to tell the world about Jesus: that He is alive, that is the key to our happiness, and the difference He has made in our life. 

Gone and Yet Here

Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord

    If there’s one thing that has proliferated during our pandemic, it’s memes.  Memes, if you’re not familiar with the word, is a picture, often with a short phrase, that’s intended to be humorous.  One that came to mind today (which I saw in April but would have also been appropriate earlier this month!) was: Anyone else feel like life is being written by a 4th grader right now?  “And there was this virus, and everyone was scared.  And then the world ran out of toilet paper.  Yeah, and then there was no school for like a month, and then it snowed.”  If we bring it up to the present day we could also include murder hornets and, sadly, the recent floods in central Michigan and wildfires near Grayling.  It does certainly sound like a bad story!
    As we go through the main points of the Gospel, it may also sound a little like a disjointed story.  You can imagine trying to explain the Gospel to someone who has never heard it before: There’s a virgin, Mary, who conceives a Son.  But it’s not conceived with her husband, but by the Holy Spirit.  And Mary’s Son, Jesus, is also God’s Son, but he’s not half-God and half-human, he’s fully God and fully human.  And Jesus heals people and walks on water, and multiplies bread and fish for the hungry, but then He dies on the cross.  But then He comes back from the dead, not like a zombie, but in a glorified body which can pass through doors.  And He visits some people during 40 days after the Resurrection, but then ascends into heaven.  But He’s not really gone, because His Body is the Church. 
    Christianity holds in tension so many things: Mary who is mother and virgin; Jesus who is God and man; Jesus who truly dies, but is truly risen from the dead; and what we celebrate today, Jesus ascended into heaven, but did not leave us orphans without His presence.  He’s gone, but He’s still here.  After all, we heard it at the end of the Gospel today: “‘behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.’”
    So how is Jesus still present with us, if, as we heard in the Gospel, He ascended beyond our sight into the heavens?  There are two ways.  The first we’ll celebrate next Sunday on Pentecost.  When the Ascension was celebrated when it should be (on Ascension Thursday, 40 days after Easter), we could point to the first novena in the church.  This is where you can insert the bad joke, where a Franciscan, a Dominican, and a diocesan priest are all asked individually by a layman, “Is there a novena for a Ferrari?”  The Franciscan, when asked, answers, “What’s a Ferrari?”  The Dominican, when asked, likewise answers, “What’s a Ferrari?”  The diocesan priest, when asked, answers, “What’s a novena?” 
    A novena is 9 days of prayer, usually for an intention.  There are nine days between the Ascension and Pentecost, and the Blessed Mother, Apostles, and disciples were praying for those nine days to continue the work of Jesus, without really knowing what they should be doing.  And their prayers are answered by the outpouring of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, where all gathered in that upper room are empowered to preach the Gospel.
    The Holy Spirit continues Jesus’ presence in the world.  Through the Holy Spirit, the Good News is still preached, freedom from sin is still granted, the hungry are still fed, the sick are still healed, the dead are still raised.  All that Jesus did on earth continues through the work of the Holy Spirit.  Sometimes that happens directly by the Holy Spirit, but sometimes it happens by people empowered by the Holy Spirit, like the first Apostles and disciples, who continue that work through the Church.
    And the Church is the second way that Jesus’ presence is continued on earth.  The Church is the Mystical Body of Christ, and is present in heaven with Christ at the right hand of the Father (what we call the Church Triumphant), is present in Purgatory, awaiting the time when they will be ready for heaven (what we call the Church Suffering), and is present here on earth, as St. Paul says, working out our salvation and trying to live the life of Jesus daily (what we call the Church Militant).  The Church continues the teaching of Jesus, frees people from sin through the Sacrament of Penance, feeds the hungry of body through food pantries, and feeds the hungry of soul through the Eucharist, heals the sick through the Sacrament of Anointing of the Sick, and prays for the resurrection of the dead in the funeral rites and Mass.  And in many more ways, the ministry of Jesus in Judea 2,000 years ago continues throughout the world.
    And that’s you and me.  Our call through baptism and confirmation is to continue the presence of Jesus in whatever way that we can.  People are no less hungry for Jesus than they were 2,000 years ago, and Jesus can satisfy their hunger through the Holy Spirit working through us as the Church. 
    Yes, there is that tension, that Jesus is both gone and present here on earth.  But His presence on earth is both the work of the Holy Spirit and us, in cooperation with the Holy Spirit.  This week, let’s make sure that our lives reveal that Jesus is alive and that, while He ascended into heaven, He is still working and active here on earth!

Doh!

Fifth Sunday of Easter

    When I was growing up, my parents did not let me watch “The Simpsons” because, I suppose, they thought it too crude and disrespectful.  So, of course, when I was in college seminary, and “The Simpsons” came on TV, I was definitely going to sit down and watch it.  And if you’ve watched “The Simpsons,” or even if you haven’t, you’re probably familiar with the character Homer Simpson, the lazy, glutinous, well-meaning, and sometimes philosophizing dad.  Homer has a quintessential word, or maybe grunt is a more appropriate word, that is associated with him: doh!  You might imagine Homer hitting his head while he says it, which gives it the proper context, a grunt and action of futility and frustration.
    If Jesus was Homer (and that comparison, obviously, is an absurd one), when St. Philip said, “‘Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us’”, Jesus would have said, “Doh!”  For three years Philip had been following Jesus each day, seeing the miracles, hearing the teaching, and now, at the Last Supper, Jesus is giving His farewell address before He dies on the cross.  Jesus comes to His great unveiling to the Apostles of His unity with the Father and says,  “‘If you know me, then you will also know my Father.  From now on you do know him and have seen him.’”  And what does Philip say?  “Jesus, just show us the Father and we’ll be good.”  It’s like the teacher saying, “2 x 3 = 6,” and then the student saying, “So wait: what’s 2 x 3?” 
    Jesus reveals the Father in everything He does.  Jesus is not the Father, but He is the revelation of the Father, so that we no longer have to wonder what the Father is like.  We see it in Jesus.  Jesus only heals at the will of the Father.  Jesus only teaches what the Father wants taught.    Jesus loves with the love of the Father.  Jesus only suffers because that is the will of the Father.  No one can truly come to the Father without the Son.  This is the basis of our claim, that, if not true, would be pure arrogance: Jesus is the only means of salvation.  He is, as St. Peter said the second reading, the “cornerstone,” upon which the entire heavenly kingdom is built.  Without the cornerstone, the whole building collapses.  Without Jesus, there is no heaven for us.  With Jesus, we have a place in the heavenly temple.
    But that revelation of the Father through Jesus continues in our day.  Bishop Barron is coming out with a new series on the sacraments, and I was able to get a sneak peak at episode one, about the sacraments in general and baptism in particular.  Bishop Barron quotes Pope St. Leo the Great: “What was visible in our Savior has passed over into his mysteries.”  That last part of the sentence in the original Latin is: “in sacramenta transivit.”  Mysteries was another way of saying sacraments, and, in fact, in the Christian East, they still refer to the sacraments as mysteries.  But the point is that we see the Father through Jesus, and we see Jesus especially through the sacraments.  The sacraments are our opportunities to encounter Jesus in a powerful way.
    And yet, how often do we think: I wish I could just talk with Jesus?  I wish I could see Jesus?  I wish I could hear Jesus?  As Homer would say, “Doh!”  Through the sacraments of baptism, penance, the Eucharist, confirmation, holy matrimony, holy order, and anointing of the sick, we encounter Christ in a way that He gave us, and through our encounter with Christ, we encounter the Father.  The sacraments are not “church graduations” after we pass a class.  They are opportunities that we can encounter God, a new beginning of, and the fruit of, a relationship that we have with God.
    Why did Philip miss what Jesus was saying at the Last Supper?  Why was Philip confused after Jesus said, “‘If you know me, then you will also know my Father’”?  How Philip was expecting to experience the Father was not the way the Father was revealing Himself.  And maybe, more often than we’d like to admit, we miss it, too, because we want to experience the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit on our terms. 
    How often do we come to Mass expecting to be entertained, or to feel something, or to “get something out of it”?  We can equate those with encountering God, and sometimes we do encounter God in that way.  But we can want the Father to reveal Himself on our terms, in our ways rather than His ways.  I know watching Mass on live-stream, as great of a blessing as it is, brings with it even more challenges to paying attention, participating, and really offering ourselves to the Father through Christ the Son in the power of the Holy Spirit.  But right now, this is how Jesus is revealing the Father.
    Like St. Philip, we all want to encounter the Father.  Like St. Philip, that happens through Jesus, and therefore especially through the seven sacraments which flow from Jesus’ Mystical Body, the Church.  May both you and I, no matter what, cling to Jesus and the ways that He reveals to us the love of the Father in heaven. 

"There's a Difference in Living and Living Well"

Fourth Sunday of Easter
    People sometimes ask me how I prepare for my homilies and how long it takes.  I think it was Archbishop Fulton Sheen who said that if he was supposed to preach for five days he needed five minutes of prep.  If he was supposed to preach for five minutes he needed five days of prep.  For whatever reason, though, this was a hard homily to write this week.  I followed my usual pattern of reading the readings a week ahead of time.  My first draft was talking about how we can sometimes be like sheep, not the smartest creature on God’s green earth, and follow the wrong shepherd.  My second draft was basically an apology for all the ways that I don’t live up to the model that the Good Shepherd sets for us priests.  But neither of them “felt” right in my gut; not what God wanted me to say.
    The readings are not overly complicated.  Jesus calls Himself the gate and the shepherd in the Gospel, the second reading talks about how we had gone astray like sheep, and we heard the familiar psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd,” which is why this weekend of Easter is referred to as Good Shepherd Sunday.  But nothing was sticking as I prepared it.  So hopefully this does the job.  If not, chalk it up to an off-week.
    “‘I came that they might have life and have it more abundantly.’”  We get caught up in a lot of things in our day-to-day life.  We have responsibilities, concerns, points-of-view, and things that occupy first place in our mind.  Add to this all of the things that come to our mind with COVID-19.  And then there’s politics.  Oh how we love to engross ourselves in what’s happening politically, and whether or not it jives with our political views. 
    Now, all of those things are important.  If you don’t keep in mind that you need to feed your family, problems quickly ensue.  If you’re not noticing the green light changing to red, you could hurt yourself or another.  We need to be our brother’s keeper and practice good hygiene and social distancing to help lessen the spread of COVID-19.  And politics is certainly worth engaging in, as a way to make sure that the City of Man reflects, to the greatest extent possible, the City of God.  But is that living?  Or as the great George Strait, the King of Country, sang, “There’s a difference in living and living well.”      Jesus, the King of Kings, and King of George Strait, said, “‘Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life…Is not life more than food and the body more than clothing?’”  Paying attention to food, money, traffic, viruses, and politics are all important.  But do we really think that’s what Jesus meant when He said that He came to give us abundant life?  Is abundant life the daily grind to make a living and provide for the family?  Is abundant life just watching cars on the road and traffic signals?  Do you feel you’re living an abundant life trying to navigate the ever-changing rules on how not to spread COVID-19?  Is sharing and retweeting political posts and arguing and trolling people really what we think is of the utmost importance in life?
    Jesus did not come to bring us a life slightly better than the one we have now.  The life that Jesus came to bring, the life He came to shepherd us to, is more different than we could ever imagine.  It’s not an improvement where we’re still giving the most thought and concern on our the day-to-day, but a life filled with the grace and power and love of God.  Jesus did not come to shepherd us from one good pasture to another.  He came to shepherd us from death to life, from darkness to light, from sorrow to joy. 
    The saints sometimes get foretastes of this abundant life, and we hear about saints who go into ecstasy–the overwhelming experience of pure happiness, not the drug–as they have communion with God.  They give us an example, as a way to encourage us on with them to what Christ desires for us all. 
    That’s what made the Apostles preach as they did, as we heard in the first reading.  This reading is part of St. Peter’s speech at Pentecost, where the Apostles and disciples were so ecstatic (literally from the Greek meaning out of the everyday status) that people thought they were drunk.  But Peter, having experienced the joy of the Risen Christ, and given the power of the Holy Spirit to preach it, had to tell the people what they knew.  Or, as St. Paul would later say, “Woe to me if I do not preach the Gospel.”  And it’s not merely telling the people about Jesus and the abundant life He offers.  It’s also about repenting, being baptized, and receiving the Holy Spirit to receive that promise of abundant life. 
    So do you want that abundant life, or do you want to settle for the humdrum in which we so often find ourselves?  Abundant life is your inheritance, your birthright through baptism; you need only claim it.  Yes, we will still have to operate in this world and be mindful of all of our daily needs and activities.  But our hearts and minds can already be joined to God, and we can, even now, enjoy the verdant pastures where Christ, the Good Shepherd, desires to guide us to enjoy abundant life. 

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? 

Plethoras of Alleluias!

Easter Sunday of the Resurrection of the Lord

    One of the great comedic movies of the 1980s is “Three Amigos” with Steve Martin, Chevy Chase, and Martin Short.  If you’re not familiar with the movie, it’s about three actors in the early twentieth century, who think they’re going to a film shoot in Mexico, only to learn that the locals think that they’re real heroes, and have sought their help to conquer the villain, El Guapo.  There are too many good lines to quote here, and you can probably watch it online somewhere (it’s rated PG, but parents should screen it first to make sure it’s appropriate for their children).
    But, in one exchange between El Guapo, and his chief henchman, Jefe, as they are planning his birthday party, El Guapo asks, “Would you say I have a plethora of piñatas?”  Jefe responds, “A what?”  El Guapo repeats, “A plethora.”  Jefe responds, “Oh yes, you have a plethora.”  El Guapo then asks, “Jefe, what is a plethora?”  Jefe asks back, “Why, El Guapo?”  El Guapo responds, “Well, you told me I have a plethora.  And I just would like to know if you know what a plethora is.  I would not like to think that a person would tell someone he has a plethora, and then find out that that person has no idea what it means to have a plethora.”
    We have a word that we use, especially during the Easter season, but do we know what it means?  What is that word?  It’s not plethora.  It’s Alleluia!  We sing it so often during Easter, and we put it away during Lent, but do we know that Alleluia means?  It’s one of the few Hebrew words that the church retains untranslated, it means “God be praised,” and it’s a response of joy.  It comes from the Hallel psalms in the Bible, psalms 113-118, and many Jews still pray these psalms especially on the most important Jewish feast days.  So, as those who follow the fulfillment of Judaism, it is right that we say, on our most important feast days, Hallelujah or Alleluia.
    But what do we have to praise God for this year?  As we’re stuck in our homes, watching Mass on TV or on the Internet, as so many businesses are closed, and we probably can’t gather with the usual family members for the usual Easter dinner, why would we sing Alleluia?  Can we praise God in the midst of COVID-19?
    We can, and we should, because Easter still celebrates what it has always celebrated, which is worthy of the greatest Alleluia!  Perhaps in years past we have muddled the meaning of Easter because we do have family to visit, hams to cook, Easter bonnets to wear.  But Easter, like every Sunday, is about one thing: the Resurrection.  Jesus Christ has been raised from the dead, God be praised!  Jesus Christ has conquered sin and death, God be praised!  We, too, who have died with Jesus Christ in the waters of baptism can rise with Him to new life, God be praised!  This is truly the reason for the celebration.  All the other stuff is good, too, but it’s not even a pale comparison to the joy we should have from Jesus rising from the dead. 
    We should sing with the Psalmist today, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad.”  We heard even in the Sequence sung today that Christ has reconciled us to the Father.  “Death and life have contended in that combat stupendous: the Prince of life, who died, reigns immortal….Christ indeed from death is risen, our new life obtaining.”  In the midst of all that is going on, and that is not as it usually is, all that is not as it should be because of COVID-19, Jesus is still risen, we still have the great gift of new and enteral life offered to us.
    And Jesus’ Resurrection means that the world is, little by little, being remade.  It starts as a small seed, that died in the ground but then rose to new life in Jesus, but the tree has started to spread all over the world, granting its fruit of new life to those who partake of it.  Unlike in Eden where our first parents ate of the fruit and brought death to the world, our Lord, on a tree, conquered Satan, the ancient foe, and through that tree, new and eternal life is available for all. 
    It can be easy, like Peter and John, to see the empty tomb, but not believe in the Resurrection, because it is not fully before our eyes.  Because the world is being remade in the light of the risen Christ slowly, we miss the reason for joy.  We focus on the doubt and the darkness, and don’t see the hope and light.
    But Jesus is still victorious, and the light is still there.  Jesus conquered sin, He conquered death, and yes, Jesus has even conquered COVID-19.  We need only stay faithful to Jesus so that we can share in the full victory that was won when Jesus rose from the dead. 
    So today, and every Sunday, which the church calls a little Easter, rejoice in the Resurrection!  Sing with the psalmist, “This is the day the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad.”  Join with the words that Nehemiah spoke, foreshadowing the joy of the Resurrection, even in the Old Testament: “‘Today is holy to the Lord your God.  Do not lament, do not weep!  […] Do not be saddened this day, for rejoicing in the Lord is your strength!’”  Alleluia!  God be praised!!

The entrance to the place where Jesus rose from the dead in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

The Greatest Event that No One Saw

The Easter Vigil in the Holy Night
    Phew!!  That’s a lot of the Word of God!  We started at Genesis 1, and maybe you feel like we went through the whole thing to the Book of Revelation (we didn’t of course, we only hit some highlights throughout the Old Testament, and then a profound reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, and then the Resurrection account from St. Matthew).  Why have all these readings?  That’s the point of a vigil, to watch and wait for something.  In this case, we were waiting for the news of the Resurrection, for those first alleluias to ring out since we began our Lenten fast, to announce the joy of the Risen Christ!  And as we heard those seven Old Testament readings, and the one Epistle, the anticipation was growing in us, to get to the good news of Jesus rising from the dead!
    As we look around, though, there’s no one here.  No offense to our musicians, our reader, and Deacon Dave, but this is a small crowd to celebrate the Resurrection, made necessary, of course, because of COVID-19, or, as some are calling it, the ‘Rona.  Maybe that bursts our bubble a bit, and tries to steal our joy from this holy night, this holiest of nights. 
    We’re used to at least more people.  Maybe not a full church, but still, more than I can count on one hand!  We’re used to the anticipation of lighting the Easter fire at the beginning, processing into the church in darkness, and then our individual candles, lit from the Paschal Candle, slowly lighting up the church.  We’re used to the sprays of holy water falling from heaven, like rain from above (and depending on how much is on the branch, sometimes more like a monsoon from above).  We’re used to the overwhelming smell of the Easter lilies, with the aroma of incense mixing in.  And yet, for those of you watching, none of that is present yet. 
    This may seem like a horrible way to celebrate Easter, but it was the way the first Easter was celebrated.  We heard in our Gospel tonight how the holy women went to the tomb on Sunday morning.  The stone is rolled back, and Jesus is not there!  Where did He go?  The angel announces that Jesus has been raised, and He is going to Galilee. 
    So Jesus rose from the dead without anyone knowing it.  No one saw the greatest work of God in all of salvation history.  There were no witnesses.  There was no music that we know of (perhaps the angels were singing, but no one heard or reported it).  There was no fire that anyone saw, no lights, no procession.  In the silence of that first Holy Saturday night, Jesus rose from the dead, and changed human history forever. 
    I think we often expect big world events to be noticed.  Certainly someone will tweet about it, or post the story on Facebook, or snap or gram it!  If it’s important, then the whole world will notice because it will be a bigger than life event.  But when Life Himself conquered sin and death, and escorted the souls of the just from their waiting to heaven, the powers of the world gave no notice; they didn’t even know such a thing was happening.  Even Jesus’ own disciples, even the ones who stood by His cross, had no idea what was happening.
    What’s in the news every day?  The ‘Rona.  How many have it, how many died, how many recovered, if a vaccine is closer, if antibodies hold the secret, how many jobs have been lost, what the government is doing, are people really staying home, how much money can my business get, how much money do I get, etc., etc.  There are good stories, too, about people celebrating the heroic work of doctors, nurses, hospital staff, first responders.  There are the heart-warming stories about people going on Zoom or Skype or FaceTime to visit with elderly relatives, sick or healthy, or singing outside windows, or celebrating birthdays with parades of cars.  Those are good stories, and it’s good that they are noticed.
    But in your life, all this dying, if united to Jesus, will also cause a rising, a rising that the world will likely never notice.  The patience you’re growing in from spending all day with your spouse and/or your kids.  The re-prioritizing of what is truly important, based not on money, but on true happiness.  The appreciation of friends that you cannot currently see, but who are important, nonetheless.  What virtues might the Lord be cultivating in your life right now, because you are open to His grace, yearning to be in His presence, desiring to receive Him in the Eucharist like you never have before.  All of this is big news, and yet the world, and let’s be honest, almost everyone else, probably doesn’t notice.
    But that’s ok.  Because God won, whether anyone took notice or not.  And eventually, everyone will know, as all will be revealed on the Last Day, when what Jesus won for His disciples will be manifest in its fullness in the resurrection of all the bodies of the dead, and the new heavens and new earth.  But until then, we wait.  We read the Word of God, we sing His praises, we worship His goodness and ask Him to raise us to new life.  And we do so knowing that He who raised Jesus from the dead, will raise us with him to life everlasting.  Amen.

The place where Jesus rose from the dead in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre

 

The Hour

Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion
    When I was in elementary school, we would sometimes play a game called “What Time Is It, Mr. Fox?”  It’s not a complicated game.  One person is Mr. Fox, who stands at the far side of a gym or field, facing away from the other players.  Everyone else is, well, honestly, I forget what they are, but they all ask together, “What time is it, Mr. Fox?” and Mr. Fox calls out an hour of the day (say, 3:00).  The others then have to take 3 steps towards Mr. Fox.  If they get past Mr. Fox, they’re safe, but if Mr. Fox yells “Midnight,” then it’s a game of tag, and if you get tagged, you’re out.  The last person left becomes the next Mr. Fox.
    What on earth does this have to do with Good Friday?  Well, throughout John’s Gospel (we heard the Passion according to St. John today), Jesus talks about His hour.  At the wedding at Cana in chapter 2, Jesus says to the Blessed Mother, “‘Woman, how does your concern affect me?  My hour has not yet come.’”  With the Samaritan Woman at the well in chapter 4, Jesus says to the woman, “‘Believe me, woman, the hour is coming when you will worship the Father neither on this mountain nor in Jerusalem….the hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth.”  In John chapter six, after healing a man who had been ill for 38 years, Jesus says, “‘Amen, amen, I say to you, the hour is coming and is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God….the hour is coming in which all who are in the tombs will hear his voice and will come out, those who have done good deeds to the resurrection of life…’”  As the hatred of the scribes and Pharisees grow, St. John himself notes in chapter seven, “no one laid a hand upon him, because [Jesus’] hour had not yet come.” and in chapter eight, “But no one arrested him, because his hour had not yet come.”  In chapter 12, after the entry into Jerusalem, Jesus says, “‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified’” and “‘Yet what should I say? “Father, save me from this hour”?  But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour.’”  And finally, in chapters 13 through 17, which covers the Last Supper, Jesus talks about His hour 3 separate times, concluding with “‘Father, the hour has come.  Give glory to your son, so that your son may glorify you.’”
    Jesus’ hour has come.  The hour for the Son of Man to be glorified is precisely the hour at which the Son of Man, the Lamb of God, is sacrificed for the salvation of the world.  That’s what we’re celebrating here: the hour of the immolation, and yet the glorification, of Jesus.  All eternity points to this moment, to the death of the Incarnate God on the Cross.  All the past points to it, and all the future references back to it. 
    Why then?  Why at that hour?  Because it was God’s will.  That answer may not feel satisfactory.  But it’s the only answer we have, and before God’s will, we can only kneel down in wonder and awe and say, “Thy will be done.”  According to Divine Providence, God the Father chose that day at that time in that gruesome manner for His Son to save us from sin and death.  And so it was the most fitting day (the day that the Jews were slaughtering the Passover lambs), the most fitting time (at the time that the daily evening sacrifice was offered and the Passover lambs were usually slain), in a way that demonstrated just how far God would go in order to save the creation He had made in His own image and likeness. 
    So why are we going through this pestilence now?  Why can’t we come to church to celebrate the mysteries of our Lord’s redemption as the People of God?  All I can say is that this is part of God’s plan in Divine Providence, not to send us this virus, but to allow this virus to draw us closer to Him.  St. Paul reminds us that all things work for the good of those who love God.  Somehow, even our current suffering can work towards good.  If the death of the Son of God can bring us new life, then certainly our suffering, united to Jesus on the cross, can also bring us new life, new appreciation, new love of God. 
    Honestly, we don’t know why this hour.  But just as the crucifixion was the hour for the Son of Man to be glorified through His suffering, so this hour can be for the children of God to be glorified through our suffering.  That is our faith.  That is our hope.  That is our confidence.  We were chosen for this hour, to be a part of God’s plan for the glorification of God, and for our salvation.  Come, let us worship!

Calvary, presently inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre in Jerusalem

It's Not Supposed to Be This Way

Mass of the Lord’s Supper

The Upper Room in Jerusalem (now a mosque)

    Many people presume that the Passover meal that Jesus celebrated was a Seder Meal.  I myself remember being in Catholic elementary school during Holy Week and having small Seder Meals in a classroom.  I wasn’t a fan of the egg, but I did enjoy the matzoh, parsley and the charoseth (which was a mixture of apples, walnuts, cinnamon, and honey).  Instead of real lamb, we had a paper lamb cut out for us (when I first tasted lamb many years later, I learned how truly disappointing it was to only have paper).  But scholars, even Jewish scholars, that I have read, state that the Seder Meal originated sometime after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem around the year of our Lord 70.  So Jesus, at the Last Supper, most likely was not celebrating a Seder Meal.  But, that’s not to say that the Passover didn’t have rituals.  Indeed, our first reading starts to outline some of the rituals of the Passover meal.
    Rituals are repeated actions, sometimes associated with religion.  The beauty of ritual is that, for the most part, it’s not supposed to change.  So the Apostles, gathered in the Upper Room with Jesus, had some idea of what was going to happen, even if it started out oddly, as it was a day earlier than the first Passover celebration was supposed to begin. 
    But those ideas were quickly shattered.  Before the celebration begins, Jesus takes off his outer garments and serves the Apostles in the task usually reserved for the lowest slave.  You can imagine the Apostles thinking, “It’s not supposed to be this way!”  Peter is the only one who has the courage to actually say what’s on his mind: “‘Master, are you going to wash my feet?’”  Jesus is the Master, the Messiah, the Anointed One of God who is supposed to lead Israel into a new kingdom of prosperity!  What is Jesus doing?  It’s not supposed to be this way!
    And then, as they celebrate the Passover (in whatever way that happened), Jesus changes things.  When it comes to the unleavened bread, Jesus changes the ritual and says, “Take this, all of you, and eat of it, for this is my Body.”  And then when it comes to the wine, Jesus again changes the ritual, and says, “Take this, all of you, and drink from it, for this is the chalice of my Blood, the Blood of the new and eternal covenant, which will be poured out for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.  Do this is memory of me.”  As they ate the Body of the Lord, and drank His Blood in the celebration of the first Eucharist, I can imagine them thinking, ‘It’s not supposed to be this way!’
    After the first Eucharist, Jesus then has a beautiful prayer and conversation where He goes back and forth between a conversation with the Apostles and a conversation with His heavenly Father.  We call this the Last Supper Discourse, and if you’re looking for a beautiful read tonight and tomorrow and Saturday, you can read the Gospel of John chapters 14-17.  This was certainly not part of the Passover meal (you’ll get why if you read the chapters), and so probably the Apostles were thinking, ‘It’s not supposed to be this way!’
    As I celebrate Mass tonight, the same thought is on my mind: it’s not supposed to be this way.  The church is not supposed to be empty; there’s supposed to be the optional ritual of washing feet; there’s supposed to be a Eucharistic procession.  None of that will happen.  In fact, Cardinal Sarah, speaking for the Pope, had to give special permission for priests to celebrate this Mass with only one minister, as that has, from time immemorial, never been allowed.  Don’t get me wrong: Jesus is still here, the bread and wine will still become His Body and Blood, but I think that we realize that it’s not supposed to be this way.  The Mass of the Lord’s Supper is meant to be our special entering into the Lord’s Passion for all parishioners, not simply for the few who are necessary to pull off a beautiful, but minimal, celebration.
    But what followed from that first Eucharist, administered by the hands of Jesus Himself?  Salvation followed.  Dark days, yes, but light, too.  Suffering, intense suffering, but later, peace and joy.  Death, a death unlike any before or any after, but also resurrection.  All those came through a celebration that wasn’t supposed to be the way it happened.
    So, what will follow from this year’s, “it’s not supposed to be this way”?  Jesus is offering the same gifts, but our response will dictate whether or not we receive those gifts.  Will we treasure our reception of the Eucharist, rather than simply see it as the weekly routine we go through?  Will we prepare better for the celebration of the Eucharist, perhaps by confession, but always by quieting our hearts and minds to hear what the Lord wants to say to us?  We will allow the Eucharist to transform us and change the way that we interact with each other after we leave Mass? 
    There are many tragedies during this time of pandemic.  But the biggest tragedy of this time of fasting from public Mass in our churches will not be those who are infected or who have died, tragic as that truly is.  The biggest tragedy of this time of fasting from public Mass will not be the economic changes that churches have to make to adapt.  The biggest tragedy of this time when we cannot pray together in person in our parish church will be if, after all of this is over, we return to the same life we had before and not appreciate the sacrifice that Jesus allows us to share in every time we get to come to Mass by either not even coming when we don’t feel like it, or receiving the Eucharist in an unworthy state.  Tonight Jesus teaches us: it’s not supposed to be that way.

Kenosis

Palm Sunday of the Lord’s Passion

    Usually for Palm Sunday, I contrast the beginning of Mass when we entered, waving palms, singing “Hosanna,” joyful in acclamation, and me wearing my very festive red cope, to the somberness that we get to by the Gospel, hearing the Passion narrative, and no longer singing “Hosanna,” but shouting, “Let him be crucified!”  But this year, there’s no waving palms, no singing “Hosanna” by the parish assembled here, no red cope.  #ThanksCOVID19.
    But it has pushed me to focus more on our second reading, from St. Paul’s letter to the Philippians.  Bishop Barron notes that scholars hypothesize that this was an adaptation of ancient hymn or prayer that St. Paul was repeating to the people of Philippi, perhaps from only a decade or so after Jesus died and rose from the dead, as this letter was written by St. Paul sometime in the 50s.  And this part talks about Jesus emptying Himself, which is the crux (if you’ll pardon the pun) of this passage.  The beginning (“Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped.”) leads up to Jesus emptying Himself, and the next verses describe the example (the how) and the consequences (the so what?) of Jesus emptying Himself (“taking the form of a slave…becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross…God greatly exalted him…every knee should bend…and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.”).  We talk about this emptying in theology by using the Greek word 𝜅𝜀𝜈𝜊𝜎𝜄𝜍. 
    Isn’t that what we heard about in the Gospel today?  Jesus emptied Himself through His Passion and Death on the Cross.  In modern phrases, we might say, Jesus “gave His all” or “gave 100%.”  But this was precisely a part of who Jesus is.  As the second Divine Person of the Blessed Trinity, Jesus, from all eternity, poured Himself out to God the Father, who, likewise, from all eternity, poured Himself out to God the Son, in a bond of love so strong that it eternally breathed forth the Holy Spirit.  And it’s who Jesus still is today; His emptying didn’t stop at the cross.  Jesus continues, for all eternity, to pour Himself out to the Father in that communion of love that I just mentioned.  
    We joke about people hoarding toilet paper, or panic buying in general, but hasn’t COVID-19 demonstrated the radical opposite focus of our lives?  Hasn’t it revealed a deep darkness in our world?  We, as members of the mystical Body of Christ, are not made for selfishness, for taking as much as we can, but for emptying ourselves for the other, for selflessness.  And yet, the selfishness of many parts of our culture are on display now more than ever.  When times get tough, the tough tend to only think of themselves.  It’s one thing to prepare in case a family is stuck at home for weeks on end.  It’s altogether different when those same supplies will be available week after week at the grocery store, to which we all can have access. 
    We are made for giving, even to the end.  And yet how many times are we afraid of giving ourselves?  Like any other virtue, selflessness has two extremes: too little, and too much.  We do have to take care of ourselves.  But more often than not, we’re not selfless enough, because we’re afraid that if we give ourselves away, we will lose something.  Maybe that goes for our marriage or family life.  Maybe that goes for work.  Maybe that goes for our relationship with Jesus.  We are afraid that if we give Jesus everything, then He might take something away that we like.  If we empty ourselves for Him, will He really empty Himself for us?
    Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI spoke about this to the youth in particular, but it applies to us all.  He said:

Are we not perhaps all afraid in some way? If we let Christ enter fully into our lives, if we open ourselves totally to him, are we not afraid that He might take something away from us? Are we not perhaps afraid to give up something significant, something unique, something that makes life so beautiful? Do we not then risk ending up diminished and deprived of our freedom? . . . No! If we let Christ into our lives, we lose nothing, nothing, absolutely nothing of what makes life free, beautiful and great. No! Only in this friendship are the doors of life opened wide. Only in this friendship is the great potential of human existence truly revealed. Only in this friendship do we experience beauty and liberation. And so, today, with great strength and great conviction, on the basis of long personal experience of life, I say to you, dear young people: Do not be afraid of Christ! He takes nothing away, and he gives you everything. When we give ourselves to him, we receive a hundredfold in return.
       
        During this Holy Week, following the example of Jesus, who emptied Himself for our salvation, who gave all of who He was, not only to God the Father, but “for us men and for our salvation” (as we say in the Nicene Creed), let’s also empty ourselves for God and for our fellow human beings.  What’s the result for us?  The same as it is for Jesus: when we empty ourselves, God greatly exalts us in Christ, and makes us sharers in the glory that is to come.  While we usually have on our lips “Hosanna” today, may this year’s struggles remind us today, this week, and every day, to also have another word in our minds and hearts, and on our lips: kenosis; emptying.