Good Friday
22 April 2011
Cathedral of Saint Ambrose, Des Moines
Silence. Today’s liturgy reduces us to silence. While the world around us continues to buzz with noise, as the sirens race past the Church and our businesses continue to work as if this were any normal day, today, the liturgy brings us to silence.
What can we say before the cross? When God gives up his life, when the Word of God breathes his last, what words can we possibly add?
The cross stands before us as a mystery. It causes us to stand in its shadow, and we are reduced to silence. This is the mystery of the work of God, in Christ Jesus, for our salvation.
How often do we face the work of God – how often do we stand before the Cross – and try to make sense of it? We try to reduce the work of God to our own terms, our own explanations. We see the arrest, and we fight to protect God from His divine plan. We run away from him, rather than following as his loyal disciples. We try to keep him from embracing the Cross, rather than trusting him.
We stand before him in chains and question him. We try to get him to deny his convictions – his very identity – hoping that our ideas are proven right. We want God to conform to our ideas of how he should act. We want him to see things how we see them; to think how we think. We want him to work and act according to our categories. We want him to reign as an earthly king – to take away all worldly evil – to remove all suffering from our lives. And, when he does work, act, speak differently than we want… what do we do then?
Whenever anyone speaks in the Gospel, they insult Christ. Judas betrays him, Peter denies him, the high priest commits blasphemy, Pilate denies truth.
And so, here we stand with Mary, with Magdalene, with John at the foot of the cross – in silence. As the world continues to go by, making all its noise, we stand in silence. And, it is only here that we can hear the Word of God. “My kingdom does not belong to this world.” “Everyone who belongs to the truth hears my voice.” “Woman, behold your son. Son, behold your Mother.” “Father, forgive them.” “It is finished.”
Do you hear how noisy the world is around us, how it feels even now like it wants to break in here into our profound silence? How many of us live everyday in the noise outside? How often do we let this noise surround us – fill us? How often do we let the noise outside fill us so much that we cannot hear the silence – that we cannot hear Christ speak to us in the silence? Our world drowns out the silence – with television, internet, youtube, ipods, radio, sports, practices, etc. etc. We are so used to it that we are scared of more than a few moments of silence – so scared that we run from it. And, in running, we cannot hear the still, whispering voice of God speaking from the tree.
So today, we pause to stand before the cross in silence. We come before the cross, leaving behind our own ideas of how God should work, to use our speechless mouths to kiss the way God chose to redeem us.
After this liturgy, we will go back into the world as it continues in its own noise, ignoring the cross. But, don’t let the world’s noise flood back into you. Keep the silence within. At 3:00, take a minute or two to stop. Just stop and sit in silence and remember the moment when God gave his life on the cross for you. Let the silence fill your heart and let God speak to you. Then, as the moment finishes, simply say, “Thank you, Jesus. Thank you for your mercy and love. Thank you.”
Friday, April 22, 2011
Sunday, April 10, 2011
Out of Death comes Life
Fifth Sunday of Lent (A)
10 April 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/041011.shtml
In the past two weeks, we have heard about the great signs of Jesus, which call us to follow him. Today, we have the greatest sign which Saint John reports – the raising of Lazarus from the dead. This is the evidence which should convince everyone that Jesus is who he says he is – the very incarnation of God. God alone can give life, and Jesus restores that life to one who has died.
As human beings, we are constantly fighting death. Think about it. How many of us fear death? We exercise constantly to try and stay healthy to prolong our lives and our quality of life. We try to keep ourselves looking young, inappropriately valuing youth in itself rather than rejoicing in the wisdom and experience which comes with the grey hairs and wrinkles of age. In my generation, we fear commitment, worried that we might not find fulfillment in following a life devoted to one thing, thinking strangely that having all our options open is the equivalent of having every possibility fulfilled. We fear anything which moves us closer toward our end or reminds us of death. We avoid hospitals, nursing homes, taking care of our elders. We don’t acknowledge when we are ill or in need of medical assistance. When we are finally faced with this reality, we try to medicate ourselves so as to prolong our lives. And, as our bodies start to fail, we do everything to shore them up so that we don’t lose the functions which we were once able to do.
And, even in the midst of all these things, still death reminds us that he is ever present. An accident happens to someone whom we love. A friend looses a close relative. Sometimes, even the young face unexpected and unexplicable death. At the seminary, this has been a very present reality to us in the past two years. February a year ago, Thomas Ongige, one of our joyful, young seminarians two years away from priesthood ordination, fell out of his chair before class. He was dead before he hit the floor. This past Thursday, Matt Marshall, twenty-three years old, was working out on the exercise bike as he has been doing regularly. Everything about the day for him was completely normal, until he fell off the bike and was seizing on the floor. He is currently in the Intensive Care Unit in the hospital in critical condition, and I ask for your prayers for him, his family, and the seminary as we wait to see what God has in store for him.
No matter how much we run from death, we can never lose him. And, when death appears, we say to God oftentimes, like Martha and Mary, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
What does the Gospel demand of us? We must completely depend on Christ with ultimate trust and hope. Martha, although imperfectly, does this. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”
All our being avoids death. We fear it because we know something isn’t right about us dying. And, in one sense, we are right. We weren’t meant to die. Jesus knows this, and he weeps over his friend Lazarus. God does not want us to die and be separated from him forever. We don’t want to lose our loved ones or ourselves for all eternity. And Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.”
Notice, however, that Jesus did not hurry immediately to Lazarus when he received the news that he was ill. He could have hurried and prevented him from dying, or arrived shortly after his death and raised him as he did others. Jesus waited, so that Lazarus’ death was certain – he was already buried. Jesus waited so that we would know that he is God, and that at the end of this life there is life to come.
Therein our hope lies. Because of Christ; because of the resurrection, we know that death is not the end – that there is life to come. As we profess in the creed – we look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
How do we find this life? The context of the Gospel gives us the answer. The Jews are ready to kill Jesus. The apostles know that going to Judea means almost certain death. The raising of Lazarus becomes the last sign – so intolerable to those who hate Jesus that they have him crucified. The path to life is through death – through death with Jesus. As the ancient hymns of Holy Week tell us, “O Crux; ave spes unica – Hail the Cross, our only hope!”
Because our hope is in following Christ, how we live today must change. Thomas’s death was sad, but it was also filled with hope, knowing that he will rise with Christ. Matt has not yet died. We pray most fervently for his healing. However, we also know that he has followed Christ, and that even if he dies today, this is not the end of his life, but only the beginning of the life to come.
So, let us follow our leader in faith. Let us have ultimate hope, so that we can with Saint Thomas say, “Let us also go to die with him.”
10 April 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/041011.shtml
In the past two weeks, we have heard about the great signs of Jesus, which call us to follow him. Today, we have the greatest sign which Saint John reports – the raising of Lazarus from the dead. This is the evidence which should convince everyone that Jesus is who he says he is – the very incarnation of God. God alone can give life, and Jesus restores that life to one who has died.
As human beings, we are constantly fighting death. Think about it. How many of us fear death? We exercise constantly to try and stay healthy to prolong our lives and our quality of life. We try to keep ourselves looking young, inappropriately valuing youth in itself rather than rejoicing in the wisdom and experience which comes with the grey hairs and wrinkles of age. In my generation, we fear commitment, worried that we might not find fulfillment in following a life devoted to one thing, thinking strangely that having all our options open is the equivalent of having every possibility fulfilled. We fear anything which moves us closer toward our end or reminds us of death. We avoid hospitals, nursing homes, taking care of our elders. We don’t acknowledge when we are ill or in need of medical assistance. When we are finally faced with this reality, we try to medicate ourselves so as to prolong our lives. And, as our bodies start to fail, we do everything to shore them up so that we don’t lose the functions which we were once able to do.
And, even in the midst of all these things, still death reminds us that he is ever present. An accident happens to someone whom we love. A friend looses a close relative. Sometimes, even the young face unexpected and unexplicable death. At the seminary, this has been a very present reality to us in the past two years. February a year ago, Thomas Ongige, one of our joyful, young seminarians two years away from priesthood ordination, fell out of his chair before class. He was dead before he hit the floor. This past Thursday, Matt Marshall, twenty-three years old, was working out on the exercise bike as he has been doing regularly. Everything about the day for him was completely normal, until he fell off the bike and was seizing on the floor. He is currently in the Intensive Care Unit in the hospital in critical condition, and I ask for your prayers for him, his family, and the seminary as we wait to see what God has in store for him.
No matter how much we run from death, we can never lose him. And, when death appears, we say to God oftentimes, like Martha and Mary, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”
What does the Gospel demand of us? We must completely depend on Christ with ultimate trust and hope. Martha, although imperfectly, does this. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.”
All our being avoids death. We fear it because we know something isn’t right about us dying. And, in one sense, we are right. We weren’t meant to die. Jesus knows this, and he weeps over his friend Lazarus. God does not want us to die and be separated from him forever. We don’t want to lose our loved ones or ourselves for all eternity. And Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.”
Notice, however, that Jesus did not hurry immediately to Lazarus when he received the news that he was ill. He could have hurried and prevented him from dying, or arrived shortly after his death and raised him as he did others. Jesus waited, so that Lazarus’ death was certain – he was already buried. Jesus waited so that we would know that he is God, and that at the end of this life there is life to come.
Therein our hope lies. Because of Christ; because of the resurrection, we know that death is not the end – that there is life to come. As we profess in the creed – we look for the resurrection of the dead and the life of the world to come.
How do we find this life? The context of the Gospel gives us the answer. The Jews are ready to kill Jesus. The apostles know that going to Judea means almost certain death. The raising of Lazarus becomes the last sign – so intolerable to those who hate Jesus that they have him crucified. The path to life is through death – through death with Jesus. As the ancient hymns of Holy Week tell us, “O Crux; ave spes unica – Hail the Cross, our only hope!”
Because our hope is in following Christ, how we live today must change. Thomas’s death was sad, but it was also filled with hope, knowing that he will rise with Christ. Matt has not yet died. We pray most fervently for his healing. However, we also know that he has followed Christ, and that even if he dies today, this is not the end of his life, but only the beginning of the life to come.
So, let us follow our leader in faith. Let us have ultimate hope, so that we can with Saint Thomas say, “Let us also go to die with him.”
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Enlightening the eyes
Fourth Sunday of Lent (A)
3 April 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/040311.shtml
Throughout the Gospels we have many stories about Jesus performing miracles. He heals lepers, multiplies loaves and fishes, walks on water. What makes today’s story different? Why do we have a long exposé of one man who was born blind, whom Jesus healed?
This blind man, perhaps, teaches us something very important – very valuable – about being a disciple of Christ. The story begins with his disciples asking him whose sin caused this man to be born blind. They saw the blindness as a result of sin, but couldn’t understand how he could have sinned from birth or why his parents’ sin would be punished in him. They cannot see that their own dilemma – their own thought structure – has restricted them from the vision which God has, which is to show God’s glory. This man was born blind precisely so that Christ could come to him and give him sight. And, in doing so, not just this man, but all the others with him could also come to see.
So, even his disciples are blind, as proven in their first question. They are trying to see by the light of the world – that is, of human convention. But, Jesus says “I am the light of the world; whoever sees by me shall not stumble in the darkness but will have the light of life.”
The man is healed. Not only is his physical sight restored, but his spiritual sight, for the first thing he can see is Christ.
Now, this story gets entirely ridiculous. His neighbors and those who used to see him begging were wondering if this is the same man. They start arguing among themselves whether he is the same man or not. They knew him. They know what he looks like. Common sense would indicate that this is the same man. But, they argue. Notice, they never ask him if he is the man, he simply tells them that he is. I imagine this happening like when a lady friend of yours goes to have her hair done in a new style, and people see her and wonder if she is the same person, but don’t ask her. Hearing them talking about her, she tells them “Yes, it’s me!”
But, that isn’t exactly what’s happening here. Something deeper, more sinister is going on. They want him to be blind. They’re comfortable with him being blind. Him being able to see is somehow dangerous for them. It challenges them, their complacency, and what they know. So, rather than rejoicing with him, they question him. They take him to the Pharisees to essentially stand trial for being able to see.
The Pharisees, like the people who knew the man, like the disciples, were divided in their opinion. On one side, a man who had broken the Sabbath. On the other, a man who can do work no one else has ever done. They cannot break out of their own paradigm and see that “the Sabbath was made for Man, not Man for the Sabbath.” They cannot see, and so they are blind. They question him, but refuse to believe him. They try denying that he was ever blind. They question his sheepish parents. They try to get him to deny Christ, whom he has barely gotten to know. And, they can’t see the truth before their eyes.
Finally, the man who was blind but now can see points out to the Pharisees their own blindness. He says to them “This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” It makes perfect sense. He was blind, now he can see. And, the Pharisees are so wrapped up in their own blindness that the light is too much for them. They return to the disciples’ original dilemma, accuse him of being born entirely in sin, and throw him out. In the end, they are so blind that they cannot see how blind they are.
How often are we like this? How often do we submit to what our society and culture tell us, and not see the light of the Gospel, shining from the teachings of Jesus Christ and his bride the Church? This Sunday is the day the Creed is given to those who will be baptized and entering the Church at Easter. Had we given into worldly knowledge, seen things as the world did, this creed would never have been written, and the faith would have been lost. With eyes enlightened by Christ, we see waters poured over a person’s head and know they are being transformed into a Christian. We see bread and wine placed upon this altar and know it is transformed into the body and blood of Christ. We see all human life and know it is cherished and loved by God. And today, we share our faith with those with whom we will soon share the life given to us in God.
So, as we work in the world, as we hear news reports of people from the outside claiming to know what we believe and criticizing us for it, we must remember that they are in the darkness; they aren’t walking in the true light of the world – the light of Christ. We must make sure that we are in the light – through study of what the Church teaches – the Catechism and listening to Catholic media. We must proclaim what we truly believe, not be ashamed of it, and share it with others. We must always come back to Christ in the sacraments and in prayer. Only then, can we truly see.
3 April 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/040311.shtml
Throughout the Gospels we have many stories about Jesus performing miracles. He heals lepers, multiplies loaves and fishes, walks on water. What makes today’s story different? Why do we have a long exposé of one man who was born blind, whom Jesus healed?
This blind man, perhaps, teaches us something very important – very valuable – about being a disciple of Christ. The story begins with his disciples asking him whose sin caused this man to be born blind. They saw the blindness as a result of sin, but couldn’t understand how he could have sinned from birth or why his parents’ sin would be punished in him. They cannot see that their own dilemma – their own thought structure – has restricted them from the vision which God has, which is to show God’s glory. This man was born blind precisely so that Christ could come to him and give him sight. And, in doing so, not just this man, but all the others with him could also come to see.
So, even his disciples are blind, as proven in their first question. They are trying to see by the light of the world – that is, of human convention. But, Jesus says “I am the light of the world; whoever sees by me shall not stumble in the darkness but will have the light of life.”
The man is healed. Not only is his physical sight restored, but his spiritual sight, for the first thing he can see is Christ.
Now, this story gets entirely ridiculous. His neighbors and those who used to see him begging were wondering if this is the same man. They start arguing among themselves whether he is the same man or not. They knew him. They know what he looks like. Common sense would indicate that this is the same man. But, they argue. Notice, they never ask him if he is the man, he simply tells them that he is. I imagine this happening like when a lady friend of yours goes to have her hair done in a new style, and people see her and wonder if she is the same person, but don’t ask her. Hearing them talking about her, she tells them “Yes, it’s me!”
But, that isn’t exactly what’s happening here. Something deeper, more sinister is going on. They want him to be blind. They’re comfortable with him being blind. Him being able to see is somehow dangerous for them. It challenges them, their complacency, and what they know. So, rather than rejoicing with him, they question him. They take him to the Pharisees to essentially stand trial for being able to see.
The Pharisees, like the people who knew the man, like the disciples, were divided in their opinion. On one side, a man who had broken the Sabbath. On the other, a man who can do work no one else has ever done. They cannot break out of their own paradigm and see that “the Sabbath was made for Man, not Man for the Sabbath.” They cannot see, and so they are blind. They question him, but refuse to believe him. They try denying that he was ever blind. They question his sheepish parents. They try to get him to deny Christ, whom he has barely gotten to know. And, they can’t see the truth before their eyes.
Finally, the man who was blind but now can see points out to the Pharisees their own blindness. He says to them “This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” It makes perfect sense. He was blind, now he can see. And, the Pharisees are so wrapped up in their own blindness that the light is too much for them. They return to the disciples’ original dilemma, accuse him of being born entirely in sin, and throw him out. In the end, they are so blind that they cannot see how blind they are.
How often are we like this? How often do we submit to what our society and culture tell us, and not see the light of the Gospel, shining from the teachings of Jesus Christ and his bride the Church? This Sunday is the day the Creed is given to those who will be baptized and entering the Church at Easter. Had we given into worldly knowledge, seen things as the world did, this creed would never have been written, and the faith would have been lost. With eyes enlightened by Christ, we see waters poured over a person’s head and know they are being transformed into a Christian. We see bread and wine placed upon this altar and know it is transformed into the body and blood of Christ. We see all human life and know it is cherished and loved by God. And today, we share our faith with those with whom we will soon share the life given to us in God.
So, as we work in the world, as we hear news reports of people from the outside claiming to know what we believe and criticizing us for it, we must remember that they are in the darkness; they aren’t walking in the true light of the world – the light of Christ. We must make sure that we are in the light – through study of what the Church teaches – the Catechism and listening to Catholic media. We must proclaim what we truly believe, not be ashamed of it, and share it with others. We must always come back to Christ in the sacraments and in prayer. Only then, can we truly see.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)