Solemnity of the Ascension of the Lord (A)
5 June 2011
All Saints, Stuart, IA
St. Joseph's, DSM, IA
And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.
Perhaps this final line of the Gospel seems confusing to have on the day we celebrate the Ascension of our Lord Jesus Christ to the right hand of the Father. It would seem that it is precisely this event that proves that he is not with us until the end of the age, but has left us on our own. By what logic can we say both that Christ is with us and that Christ has returned to the Father?
The Ascension follows the logic of the entire mission of Christ. The second person of the trinity became incarnate – enfleshed – and took our human nature, separated from God, and united it to himself. In the incarnation, God and man were once again united. In living a human life, humanity learned to live united to God, filled with his divine Spirit. Jesus offered his human nature completely to the Father, and thus man loved God to the end. In the Resurrection, a human life given entirely to God was restored to a new, more perfect life to last forever.
The Ascension continues the trajectory. God came down to earth and united himself to man. Now, a man goes up to heaven and unites human nature to God. With the Ascension, the union of God and man is complete – the two have perfectly united in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Now, of course, the disciples would have rather had Jesus remain with them. They loved him, knew him to be God, and wanted to always be close to him. But, it was necessary for Christ to complete his mission and return to the Father. As he himself said, “If I do not go, the Holy Spirit will not come.”
And so, it is the Holy Spirit, who Christ promised to send from the Father, who remains with us. And, the apostles - rather, the Church – becomes the presence of Christ in the world. Jesus promised that the Holy Spirit would come and guide us into all truth. So today, if we want to hear the words of Christ, we keep the book – the Bible – with the accounts of his historical presence, and we listen to the Church, which is his voice alive today.
Of course, in our own hearts, we want Christ to stay with us. This is what the disciples felt when Jesus said he was about to ascend. And, this is where the promise of Christ is fulfilled, when he says, “And behold, I am with you always, until the end of the age.” This is the gift Christ gave to this same Church of his perpetual presence – the gift of the Eucharist. And so, it is important for us to come to the Eucharist every Sunday, to encounter the presence of Christ, and to receive him into our very bodies and soul. This is the depth of the love of Christ, that although he had to return to the Father, that he would give us himself – for all time – in the Eucharist we are about to celebrate.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
Divine Mercy - Divine Blessedness
Second Sunday of Easter (A)
1 May 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
“It is mercy I desire, not sacrifice.” “Lord have mercy, for we have sinned against you.” Mercy – Mercy – Mercy!
Today, we celebrate the Octave of Easter, the final day of the eight days the Church celebrates the great joy of Easter day itself. And, for the past several years, this Sunday has been remembered in the Church as “Divine Mercy Sunday.” Why do we have “Divine Mercy Sunday”? What does this even mean? The answer to this is already present in our readings.
During Holy Week, we remembered how Jesus Christ gave his life for us. He didn’t come as a king to reign in this world. He didn’t come to give us a burdensome law code and enforce it by social structures to make us follow him. He came “meek, and humble of heart.” His followers were so free under his rule that one betrayed him, one denied him three times, and all of them fled from him at the hour of his most urgent need. And, on Easter morning, they start hearing reports that he is alive, and they run to see the empty tomb. – And, they fear, so they hide – like Adam did in the garden.
In the upper room, we see the eleven gathered behind locked doors, not knowing what to do, and utterly afraid. What happens if the Jews get them? What happens if the Jews blame them for this rumor of Jesus being alive? What if maybe, somehow impossibly maybe, Jesus is alive – how would he handle his unfaithful disciples?
And, behold, Jesus – alive! – stands in their midst. Notice what he says, how he acts. If one of us were to offend someone or do something hurtful to another, we would expect retaliation, retribution, hatred, anger, and the like. We see this all the time in our politics, our movies, and our own lives. You lied to me, now I refuse to trust you. He went behind your back to undermine your authority, now you make your authority over him felt. And, we further stigmatize our own community of life and faith.
But, this is not what Jesus does. These 11 men were to stand beside him to the end, and they did worse than nothing. Yet, Jesus doesn’t come in and yell at them. He doesn’t rub in their mistakes and make them feel more guilty than they already are. He doesn’t condemn them. He doesn’t take back the love he has for them. Rather, he says, “Peace be with you.” They are still frightened, fearful, amazed. He shows them his hands and side, effectively saying both “It’s really me!” and “I know what you helped make happen to me,” and says again “Peace be with you.” What mercy – rather than condemning them for murdering God, he takes away their fear and gives them peace.
This is divine peace, this is divine mercy – that the love of God can conquer all fear, sin, and hatred – that the love of God reigns supreme. For, it is in this great moment, to these men who are themselves among the greatest of sinners, Jesus breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit./ Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them,/ and whose sins you retain are retained.” This is divine mercy – that the very act by which the most atrocious sin of deicide was committed, i.e. the crucifixion of our Lord, would be the very act which would bring about our reconciliation and our peace. This is divine mercy – that God’s heart would be pierced, and we would see hidden inside not divine wrath, not divine retribution, not divine vengeance, not divine retaliation, but rather divine pardon, divine peace, divine forgiveness, divine reconciliation, divine love, divine mercy.
Today, we live in a world which is all too quickly losing its understanding of mercy. Cardinal George has described this as a society in which “everything is permitted and nothing forgiven.” This is entirely contrary to the Gospel. Our life in Christ demands a moral structure in conformity to the will of God. Not everything is permitted, and so we continue to preach. However, unlike some of our Christian brothers and sisters, even some within the Church, we believe that everything can be forgiven. And, as proof of this, Christ gave the apostles and their successors – the bishops and priests – the sacrament of Reconciliation.
This is divine mercy, that the men who ran from the cross would be forgiven and themselves go to the cross for Christ in the end. This is divine mercy, that Simon of Cyrene would continue to follow Christ, even after he laid down his cross, and his two sons would become bishops in the Church. This is divine mercy, that the soldier who pierced the heart of Christ would himself die confessing him to be God. No one, no matter where in life, no matter what sins may have been committed, can be separated from divine mercy.
So, as we celebrate this great Divine Mercy Sunday, we must continue to pray for greater mercy in our world. At 2:00 PM, confessions will be heard here in the church. At 3:00 PM, the hour Christ died, the hour of mercy, we will pray the prayer we get from Saint Faustina – the Divine Mercy Chaplet, which is prayed on ordinary rosary beads. Those who participate in these will receive a plenary indulgence – the forgiveness of all their sins (in the sacrament of confession) and the remittance of all the punishment due to sin in purgatory. Of course, this affords each of us to show that divine mercy to a soul in purgatory by offering the indulgence for one of them.
Finally, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the man who placed this great Divine Mercy Sunday on the Church calendar, the man who was truly a brilliantly shining light in the Church and throughout the world, who worked to teach all the nations about the mercy of God, who went into the cell of the man who would have been his assassin and forgave him, who died in Christ on Divine Mercy Sunday. Today, we celebrate the beatification of Pope John Paul II, whom has been called the patron of my generation in the Church. So today, after years of waiting, we can finally say,
Blessed Pope John Paul the Great – pray for us!
1 May 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
“It is mercy I desire, not sacrifice.” “Lord have mercy, for we have sinned against you.” Mercy – Mercy – Mercy!
Today, we celebrate the Octave of Easter, the final day of the eight days the Church celebrates the great joy of Easter day itself. And, for the past several years, this Sunday has been remembered in the Church as “Divine Mercy Sunday.” Why do we have “Divine Mercy Sunday”? What does this even mean? The answer to this is already present in our readings.
During Holy Week, we remembered how Jesus Christ gave his life for us. He didn’t come as a king to reign in this world. He didn’t come to give us a burdensome law code and enforce it by social structures to make us follow him. He came “meek, and humble of heart.” His followers were so free under his rule that one betrayed him, one denied him three times, and all of them fled from him at the hour of his most urgent need. And, on Easter morning, they start hearing reports that he is alive, and they run to see the empty tomb. – And, they fear, so they hide – like Adam did in the garden.
In the upper room, we see the eleven gathered behind locked doors, not knowing what to do, and utterly afraid. What happens if the Jews get them? What happens if the Jews blame them for this rumor of Jesus being alive? What if maybe, somehow impossibly maybe, Jesus is alive – how would he handle his unfaithful disciples?
And, behold, Jesus – alive! – stands in their midst. Notice what he says, how he acts. If one of us were to offend someone or do something hurtful to another, we would expect retaliation, retribution, hatred, anger, and the like. We see this all the time in our politics, our movies, and our own lives. You lied to me, now I refuse to trust you. He went behind your back to undermine your authority, now you make your authority over him felt. And, we further stigmatize our own community of life and faith.
But, this is not what Jesus does. These 11 men were to stand beside him to the end, and they did worse than nothing. Yet, Jesus doesn’t come in and yell at them. He doesn’t rub in their mistakes and make them feel more guilty than they already are. He doesn’t condemn them. He doesn’t take back the love he has for them. Rather, he says, “Peace be with you.” They are still frightened, fearful, amazed. He shows them his hands and side, effectively saying both “It’s really me!” and “I know what you helped make happen to me,” and says again “Peace be with you.” What mercy – rather than condemning them for murdering God, he takes away their fear and gives them peace.
This is divine peace, this is divine mercy – that the love of God can conquer all fear, sin, and hatred – that the love of God reigns supreme. For, it is in this great moment, to these men who are themselves among the greatest of sinners, Jesus breathes on them and says, “Receive the Holy Spirit./ Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them,/ and whose sins you retain are retained.” This is divine mercy – that the very act by which the most atrocious sin of deicide was committed, i.e. the crucifixion of our Lord, would be the very act which would bring about our reconciliation and our peace. This is divine mercy – that God’s heart would be pierced, and we would see hidden inside not divine wrath, not divine retribution, not divine vengeance, not divine retaliation, but rather divine pardon, divine peace, divine forgiveness, divine reconciliation, divine love, divine mercy.
Today, we live in a world which is all too quickly losing its understanding of mercy. Cardinal George has described this as a society in which “everything is permitted and nothing forgiven.” This is entirely contrary to the Gospel. Our life in Christ demands a moral structure in conformity to the will of God. Not everything is permitted, and so we continue to preach. However, unlike some of our Christian brothers and sisters, even some within the Church, we believe that everything can be forgiven. And, as proof of this, Christ gave the apostles and their successors – the bishops and priests – the sacrament of Reconciliation.
This is divine mercy, that the men who ran from the cross would be forgiven and themselves go to the cross for Christ in the end. This is divine mercy, that Simon of Cyrene would continue to follow Christ, even after he laid down his cross, and his two sons would become bishops in the Church. This is divine mercy, that the soldier who pierced the heart of Christ would himself die confessing him to be God. No one, no matter where in life, no matter what sins may have been committed, can be separated from divine mercy.
So, as we celebrate this great Divine Mercy Sunday, we must continue to pray for greater mercy in our world. At 2:00 PM, confessions will be heard here in the church. At 3:00 PM, the hour Christ died, the hour of mercy, we will pray the prayer we get from Saint Faustina – the Divine Mercy Chaplet, which is prayed on ordinary rosary beads. Those who participate in these will receive a plenary indulgence – the forgiveness of all their sins (in the sacrament of confession) and the remittance of all the punishment due to sin in purgatory. Of course, this affords each of us to show that divine mercy to a soul in purgatory by offering the indulgence for one of them.
Finally, I would be remiss if I did not acknowledge the man who placed this great Divine Mercy Sunday on the Church calendar, the man who was truly a brilliantly shining light in the Church and throughout the world, who worked to teach all the nations about the mercy of God, who went into the cell of the man who would have been his assassin and forgave him, who died in Christ on Divine Mercy Sunday. Today, we celebrate the beatification of Pope John Paul II, whom has been called the patron of my generation in the Church. So today, after years of waiting, we can finally say,
Blessed Pope John Paul the Great – pray for us!
Friday, April 22, 2011
Silence before the Cross
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.”
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.”
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.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Our thirsty souls
Third Sunday of Lent (A)
27 March 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/032711.shtml
“In those days, in their thirst for water, the people grumbled against Moses.” I’m sure most of us have experienced a person or group of people, perhaps even seen in ourselves, how things as basic as hunger and thirst can drastically change a person’s demeanor or attitude. I think also of college dining halls and, dare I say, family kitchens where children complain about the food “always being the same” and how little they like it. Things as basic as hunger and thirst can change the way we interact with others precisely because of how much we need food and water to survive. The people were so desperate – so needy that they remembered slavery in Egypt fondly and forgot their miraculous rescue when God separated the Red Sea.
Water is essential to life – one of our most basic needs. Consequently, we are always seeking water, going out looking for it, and drinking it whenever we can. We don’t think about it much because it is so available and our search usually ends at the nearest faucet. In the ancient world, they would go to the town well.
This is where a woman of Sychar finds a man waiting for her. Jesus is thirsty, and asks her for a drink. But, soon we discover another truth – ordinary water does not fulfill us. We are not satiated by the water we drink. We must always come back for more. We must keep asking for water as we dine out. We must keep finding faucets and filling our glasses. But, Jesus promises “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
The woman is attracted to this. She has been alienated from her community. While it is hot and everyone is in town having lunch, she is coming out to do the laborious task of fetching water by herself. Her life has gotten to the point where she doesn’t want to be seen by anyone. She is ashamed of what she has become.
Jesus sees this. This is why she is fetching water at noon. And, Jesus knows why she is so ashamed. She has been married five times, and has given up on marriage and is now living with a man. She is seeking something in these relationships that she is not finding. She is looking for the perfect relationship, the perfect man who will fulfill every one of her needs. And, she cannot find him. In a spiritual sense, she is thirsty for what will fulfill.
How many of us are like the woman at the well – looking for the perfect relationship, the one that will fulfill all our needs? How many of us expect too much out of our friendships, our marriages, our family, even our priests? No human is perfect, and no one human person will ever fulfill all our needs, our desires, our hope.
In truth, there is only one who can satisfy our thirst for this water. There is only one in whom we find our hope, and he is the man we found sitting at the well when we weren’t expecting him, calling us to come to him and ask him for living water. He is the one we first encountered sacramentally here at the fount of Baptism. He is the one whom our hearts have been desiring, longing, crying for all our lives, since our very creation. He is the one whom the people of Israel following Moses were really looking for when they were thirsty, and he gave them water from the rock. He is the one the prophets and patriarchs longed for. He is the one whom all peoples truly need. He is our God, who came to satisfy our thirst with the waters of Baptism and our hunger by offering his body and blood on the Cross. And, as the Samaritan woman was uniquely blessed to be told directly – He is the Christ.
“The woman left her water jar.” What an amazing change! She is no longer thirsty, for her true thirst has been fulfilled. She is so full of water – of life! – that she runs into town to share what she has received with everyone she can find. The thirsty woman, who avoided everyone, has now herself become a spring of living water through which everyone in the town would follow back to its source. Then, they too could have their thirst satisfied and say “We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world.”
In our tradition, we have the story of this woman who sought fulfillment in every possible way before discovering Christ. But, she is not alone. Countless men and women throughout the centuries have sought every worldly advice and pleasure seeking happiness and fulfillment, only to discover that our only true hope is in Christ. In a most beautiful passage summarizing his life’s journey, Saint Augustine says,
“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.”
Lent teaches us that nothing created will ever satisfy us. That is why the Church proposes for us the discipline of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Prayer focuses us back on God – we listen for him; we talk to him, because he is the fountain of life. Fasting disciplines us to know that ultimately, more that food or water, we need Christ. Almsgiving teaches us that the gifts we have been given by God are meant to be shared out of love for one another, that these gifts may lead others back to God.
This week, let us pray – truly pray. Let us allow God to fill us today at this Mass. Let us discipline ourselves through fasting, submitting our own desires – bodily or otherwise – to the one desire which is more important than all the others – our need for God. Then, as we continue in true perfection, as we let ourselves be fulfilled, we can find a way to do something good for God, so that through the love of God flowing from the fountain of our hearts, others too may come to know the beauty, the joy, the hope that we have in Jesus Christ our Lord.
27 March 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/032711.shtml
“In those days, in their thirst for water, the people grumbled against Moses.” I’m sure most of us have experienced a person or group of people, perhaps even seen in ourselves, how things as basic as hunger and thirst can drastically change a person’s demeanor or attitude. I think also of college dining halls and, dare I say, family kitchens where children complain about the food “always being the same” and how little they like it. Things as basic as hunger and thirst can change the way we interact with others precisely because of how much we need food and water to survive. The people were so desperate – so needy that they remembered slavery in Egypt fondly and forgot their miraculous rescue when God separated the Red Sea.
Water is essential to life – one of our most basic needs. Consequently, we are always seeking water, going out looking for it, and drinking it whenever we can. We don’t think about it much because it is so available and our search usually ends at the nearest faucet. In the ancient world, they would go to the town well.
This is where a woman of Sychar finds a man waiting for her. Jesus is thirsty, and asks her for a drink. But, soon we discover another truth – ordinary water does not fulfill us. We are not satiated by the water we drink. We must always come back for more. We must keep asking for water as we dine out. We must keep finding faucets and filling our glasses. But, Jesus promises “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again; but whoever drinks the water I shall give will never thirst; the water I shall give will become in him a spring of water welling up to eternal life.”
The woman is attracted to this. She has been alienated from her community. While it is hot and everyone is in town having lunch, she is coming out to do the laborious task of fetching water by herself. Her life has gotten to the point where she doesn’t want to be seen by anyone. She is ashamed of what she has become.
Jesus sees this. This is why she is fetching water at noon. And, Jesus knows why she is so ashamed. She has been married five times, and has given up on marriage and is now living with a man. She is seeking something in these relationships that she is not finding. She is looking for the perfect relationship, the perfect man who will fulfill every one of her needs. And, she cannot find him. In a spiritual sense, she is thirsty for what will fulfill.
How many of us are like the woman at the well – looking for the perfect relationship, the one that will fulfill all our needs? How many of us expect too much out of our friendships, our marriages, our family, even our priests? No human is perfect, and no one human person will ever fulfill all our needs, our desires, our hope.
In truth, there is only one who can satisfy our thirst for this water. There is only one in whom we find our hope, and he is the man we found sitting at the well when we weren’t expecting him, calling us to come to him and ask him for living water. He is the one we first encountered sacramentally here at the fount of Baptism. He is the one whom our hearts have been desiring, longing, crying for all our lives, since our very creation. He is the one whom the people of Israel following Moses were really looking for when they were thirsty, and he gave them water from the rock. He is the one the prophets and patriarchs longed for. He is the one whom all peoples truly need. He is our God, who came to satisfy our thirst with the waters of Baptism and our hunger by offering his body and blood on the Cross. And, as the Samaritan woman was uniquely blessed to be told directly – He is the Christ.
“The woman left her water jar.” What an amazing change! She is no longer thirsty, for her true thirst has been fulfilled. She is so full of water – of life! – that she runs into town to share what she has received with everyone she can find. The thirsty woman, who avoided everyone, has now herself become a spring of living water through which everyone in the town would follow back to its source. Then, they too could have their thirst satisfied and say “We no longer believe because of your word; for we have heard for ourselves, and we know that this is truly the savior of the world.”
In our tradition, we have the story of this woman who sought fulfillment in every possible way before discovering Christ. But, she is not alone. Countless men and women throughout the centuries have sought every worldly advice and pleasure seeking happiness and fulfillment, only to discover that our only true hope is in Christ. In a most beautiful passage summarizing his life’s journey, Saint Augustine says,
“Late have I loved you, O Beauty ever ancient, ever new, late have I loved you! You were within me, but I was outside, and it was there that I searched for you. In my unloveliness I plunged into the lovely things which you created. You were with me, but I was not with you. Created things kept me from you; yet if they had not been in you they would have not been at all. You called, you shouted, and you broke through my deafness. You flashed, you shone, and you dispelled my blindness. You breathed your fragrance on me; I drew in breath and now I pant for you. I have tasted you, now I hunger and thirst for more. You touched me, and I burned for your peace.”
Lent teaches us that nothing created will ever satisfy us. That is why the Church proposes for us the discipline of prayer, fasting, and almsgiving. Prayer focuses us back on God – we listen for him; we talk to him, because he is the fountain of life. Fasting disciplines us to know that ultimately, more that food or water, we need Christ. Almsgiving teaches us that the gifts we have been given by God are meant to be shared out of love for one another, that these gifts may lead others back to God.
This week, let us pray – truly pray. Let us allow God to fill us today at this Mass. Let us discipline ourselves through fasting, submitting our own desires – bodily or otherwise – to the one desire which is more important than all the others – our need for God. Then, as we continue in true perfection, as we let ourselves be fulfilled, we can find a way to do something good for God, so that through the love of God flowing from the fountain of our hearts, others too may come to know the beauty, the joy, the hope that we have in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
Be Strong, all who hope in the Lord.
Second Sunday of Lent (A)
20 March 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/032011.shtml
As we progress through Lent, as we grow stronger in our desire and ability to follow Christ and His Gospel, we begin to see how difficult being a disciple of the Lord can truly be.
In the first reading, we hear the call of Abraham. God called Abraham to leave everything he knew, everything that gave him identity – his father’s house, family, land – and God asked him to go to a land he “would show” him. That’s it. God didn’t promise him riches, wisdom, fame, or anything else we expect to motivate others. God simply said, politely, “Go, for your own sake,” and Abraham went, not even knowing where he was being led.
Abraham had faith, he trusted in God. He was not perfect, and his faith would continue to be purified and refined as his life continued on. But, he took these first, difficult steps in faith.
When we meet Peter, James, and John in the Gospel, they have already heard the voice of Christ calling them to follow him. They have already taken the first steps, leaving their boats at the sea and following him. Now, Christ calls them to follow him up a mountain as he is about to make his final turn to Jerusalem. It has been difficult. There has been infighting among the twelve. They haven’t understood much of what Jesus has said in his preaching. Peter has been called Satan for tempting Jesus. Yet, they are still called to ascend the mountain, take the difficult road, and follow Christ.
However, it has not been without rewards. They have been with Jesus when he has healed the sick, cast out demons, and performed many other miracles. Peter has been given the knowledge that he is following the Christ, the Son of the Living God.
Peter, James, and John have great faith. In following Christ, they have come to know him not as a mere human, but have understood him to be God. Today, for a brief moment, they see briefly behind the veil of their master’s human nature, and see the Light of God, shining from the face of Christ. And, they let this light shine upon them. They let themselves bathe in this glorious light which Moses and the prophets before them saw. And, they hear the ancient voice of the Father, confirming them in their faith. “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him”
But, it is only for a moment that the veil is lifted, that this experience lasts. Then, they see again with ordinary eyes their master and teacher just as he was. Why do they have this experience? Wouldn’t it be great if they were able to stay in that heavenly light forever? This is exactly what Peter wants to do – to set up tents and stay there with Jesus forever. Why must it end, and why must they go down from the mountain? Why can they say nothing about it?
Have you ever been on a retreat or had an experience of prayer which has filled you with light, energy, excitement? Which has enflamed your heart with powerful, inexpressible love of God? Why must it end?!
The gifts we are given by God – whether our talents or treasures, or our experiences of grace and prayer – none of these are meant solely for us individually, but are for the building up of the whole Church. Peter, James, and John have a brief glimpse of the glory of God shining from the face of Christ. It gives them sure knowledge that this is the long-awaited Messiah, hope that they will follow him into his glory, and strength to follow him to the end.
They must have this strength for what God has in mind. They are the leaders among the 12, among all of the disciples of Jesus. In just a little while, Jesus will prophesy a second time that he will suffer and die. Jesus is headed toward Jerusalem, and these men must have faith that not only will he suffer and die, but that, as he promised, he will rise from the dead. They must know he is the Christ whom God has sent, and that all of this is God’s plan.
In our own lives, we all can have great and exceptional moments in prayer. However, these moments are not just for ourselves to help us know Christ. They also empower us to help the whole Church – to console those who suffer, to teach those who want to learn, to pray with those who do not know how. The next few Sundays of Lent, the readings are picked to speak in a special way to those in the RCIA. They are stories about an individual person touched in a unique way by Christ – how their life of faith begins. We’ll see how this changes not only their life, but the life of everyone around them.
Today, let us remember that we have a responsibility to stand beside these elect, to help them grow in their faith. This requires us to be strong in our faith, and to ever become stronger. Oftentimes, this involves trials of our own. But, think of Peter, James, and John as Christ was being led to his death – every human impulse in them telling them to run away, have no association, forget they ever knew the man – and yet, this one experience, this one insight into his divinity, knowing there was truly nowhere else they could turn, for he is the Son of God, and he alone has the words of everlasting life.
“Be strong; let your heart take courage, all who hope in the Lord.” (Ps. 31:24)
20 March 2011
St. Hilary’s, Chicago
http://www.usccb.org/nab/032011.shtml
As we progress through Lent, as we grow stronger in our desire and ability to follow Christ and His Gospel, we begin to see how difficult being a disciple of the Lord can truly be.
In the first reading, we hear the call of Abraham. God called Abraham to leave everything he knew, everything that gave him identity – his father’s house, family, land – and God asked him to go to a land he “would show” him. That’s it. God didn’t promise him riches, wisdom, fame, or anything else we expect to motivate others. God simply said, politely, “Go, for your own sake,” and Abraham went, not even knowing where he was being led.
Abraham had faith, he trusted in God. He was not perfect, and his faith would continue to be purified and refined as his life continued on. But, he took these first, difficult steps in faith.
When we meet Peter, James, and John in the Gospel, they have already heard the voice of Christ calling them to follow him. They have already taken the first steps, leaving their boats at the sea and following him. Now, Christ calls them to follow him up a mountain as he is about to make his final turn to Jerusalem. It has been difficult. There has been infighting among the twelve. They haven’t understood much of what Jesus has said in his preaching. Peter has been called Satan for tempting Jesus. Yet, they are still called to ascend the mountain, take the difficult road, and follow Christ.
However, it has not been without rewards. They have been with Jesus when he has healed the sick, cast out demons, and performed many other miracles. Peter has been given the knowledge that he is following the Christ, the Son of the Living God.
Peter, James, and John have great faith. In following Christ, they have come to know him not as a mere human, but have understood him to be God. Today, for a brief moment, they see briefly behind the veil of their master’s human nature, and see the Light of God, shining from the face of Christ. And, they let this light shine upon them. They let themselves bathe in this glorious light which Moses and the prophets before them saw. And, they hear the ancient voice of the Father, confirming them in their faith. “This is my beloved Son. Listen to him”
But, it is only for a moment that the veil is lifted, that this experience lasts. Then, they see again with ordinary eyes their master and teacher just as he was. Why do they have this experience? Wouldn’t it be great if they were able to stay in that heavenly light forever? This is exactly what Peter wants to do – to set up tents and stay there with Jesus forever. Why must it end, and why must they go down from the mountain? Why can they say nothing about it?
Have you ever been on a retreat or had an experience of prayer which has filled you with light, energy, excitement? Which has enflamed your heart with powerful, inexpressible love of God? Why must it end?!
The gifts we are given by God – whether our talents or treasures, or our experiences of grace and prayer – none of these are meant solely for us individually, but are for the building up of the whole Church. Peter, James, and John have a brief glimpse of the glory of God shining from the face of Christ. It gives them sure knowledge that this is the long-awaited Messiah, hope that they will follow him into his glory, and strength to follow him to the end.
They must have this strength for what God has in mind. They are the leaders among the 12, among all of the disciples of Jesus. In just a little while, Jesus will prophesy a second time that he will suffer and die. Jesus is headed toward Jerusalem, and these men must have faith that not only will he suffer and die, but that, as he promised, he will rise from the dead. They must know he is the Christ whom God has sent, and that all of this is God’s plan.
In our own lives, we all can have great and exceptional moments in prayer. However, these moments are not just for ourselves to help us know Christ. They also empower us to help the whole Church – to console those who suffer, to teach those who want to learn, to pray with those who do not know how. The next few Sundays of Lent, the readings are picked to speak in a special way to those in the RCIA. They are stories about an individual person touched in a unique way by Christ – how their life of faith begins. We’ll see how this changes not only their life, but the life of everyone around them.
Today, let us remember that we have a responsibility to stand beside these elect, to help them grow in their faith. This requires us to be strong in our faith, and to ever become stronger. Oftentimes, this involves trials of our own. But, think of Peter, James, and John as Christ was being led to his death – every human impulse in them telling them to run away, have no association, forget they ever knew the man – and yet, this one experience, this one insight into his divinity, knowing there was truly nowhere else they could turn, for he is the Son of God, and he alone has the words of everlasting life.
“Be strong; let your heart take courage, all who hope in the Lord.” (Ps. 31:24)
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