Sunday Reflection: An understanding heart

I think all of us can identify with the fairly common question that kids ask one another at some time or another, “If a genie popped out of that mythic lamp and told you, you could have one wish granted, what would it be.”  Of course, I always responded with, 100 more wishes! Wouldn’t life be grand if periodically we had some omnipotent Genie that could grant our wishes, dreams and desires every now and then?  

Perhaps because of the fantastic fantasy of such a dream we might find it odd that Solomon in today’s first reading when the Lord of Lord’s and King of King’s, God Himself, appeared to him and told him to ask for something and that it would be granted - one might have thought of all sorts of wonderful things that Solomon could have asked for.  Yet, he asked for only thing - an understanding heart to distinguish right from wrong. 

My sisters and brothers, there is reason why Solomon in tradition is called wise or that we refer to the wisdom of Solomon - for in responding to the Lord’s generous gift, Solomon indeed chose wisely. 

To distinguish right from wrong is the daily challenge that we must wrestle with as we strive to live lives of integrity as disciples of the Lord.  Matthew records for us the words of the Lord Jesus to his disciples - to us - speaking of the kingdom of heaven.  Through comparisons to everyday life, Jesus the master teacher, is urging us to see this new creation that he has ushered in as a treasure buried in a field, or the pearl of great price, or the great catch of fish.

In other words, seeking, living and building God’s reign in our midst must become the overriding passion that gives ultimate focus and meaning to our lives.  No wonder that we, like Solomon, should pray frequently for the gift of discernment that we too might have an understanding heart to distinguish right from wrong - what builds up the Reign of God or what can become a barrier and stumbling block for God’s Kingdom to Grow right here in our midst. 

Sadly, in these last few years, we have collectively witnessed the tragic results when wisdom is wanting in the leadership of our country.  When narcissistic needs become the motivating impetus for the craving of power and control, we witness the collapse of the harmony that should characterize a healthy society. When ideological enmity, name calling, stigmatization of the marginal and the ‘other’ become the reason for maintaining power, integrity collapses and foolishness replaces wisdom. 

To choose wisely, to distinguish right from wrong will forever be the hallmark of personal integrity and holiness as members of the Kingdom.    More often than not the wisdom to choose rightly with an understanding heart begins with the seemingly insignificant choices of everyday life.  For husbands and wives, the choice to say that kind and loving word rather than to be self-righteously critical or to play those old tapes of an unforgiven wound that we hold onto to as a power play over one’s spouse;   for parents to be affirming as they maximize praise for their children and as they teach them the consequences of choosing wisely and unwisely in their own lives; for employers who treat their employees with fairness and justice respecting the dignity of every person and for employees who bring a moral vision of what is right and wrong to the workplace.  For Bishops, Priests, deacons and all involved in the work of the Gospel, that they speak the truth in love and pray for the courage to serve rather than be served as well as the humility to seek forgiveness when we have failed to lead with integrity and virtue.

Solomon indeed chose wisely when he asked the Lord for an understanding heart to distinguish right from wrong.  In this age of moral relativism where the good is so often equated with the comfortable and convenient choices we make in life, let us too ask for that Gift from Lord.  May it be our path to integrity and holiness of life now and always.

Sunday Reflection: Cultivating Hope among weeds

A morning ritual of mine is to be awakened each morning at 5:00 AM with the top stories broadcast by National Public Radio’s Morning Edition.  Some mornings, I’m delighted to hear of a possible break-through in this or that cancer treatment.  But, truth be told, most mornings, we hear of the grim statics of those who have died as a result of the Covid-19 pandemic that is ravaging our world and particularly, our own country. We shake our collective heads and wonder about this physical evil that is devastating families and taking our loved ones at all ages. We ponder in the face of this sickness that appears to strike so indiscriminately. We shudder at the seeming nonchalance of so many of our government officials, especially our President, whose commitment as a leader in addressing this pandemic is so utterly lacking. 

         My brothers and sisters, these are indeed the inevitable weeds that can appear to choke out the full growth of the good seed in the fields of our lives, our country and our world.  It would be so easy for many of us to succumb to despair as we hear another story of the innocent suffering, as we endure hearing another story of the senseless brutality and cycle of violence that seems to be at the center of our news stories these days, as we hear of the deaths mounting daily as a result of the present pandemic.  

         Staring at the so-called weeds infesting our life, we inevitably wrestle with the question that none us can seem to voice: Can I trust God when this good life has so much bad in it?  In his bestselling book of some years ago, Who Needs God?, Rabbi Harold Kushner writes: “I meet a lot of people who, in the face of personal tragedy or a major disaster, angrily conclude that there is no God.  I am often struck,” he writes, “by how angry some people get at God for not existing.”  

“Didn’t you, Lord, sow good seed in your field?”  My friends, we know somewhere deep in the earth of our souls God did and God does sow good seed, abundantly, generously, lovingly.  How can any of us look into the face of a child and not see the tracings of God’s hand in every dimple, every eyelash, every erupting tooth in a gummy mouth?  How can we witness the depth of love that blooms in this congregation when death visits one of our number?  How can we watch a father cradle his infant son and not believe that God can be trusted?  Times are, my brothers and sisters, we confess our faith in Christ standing deep in a river of tears, stuttering through our sorrow that God is good, God is great, God is love.  But, there are those other times, in the moments of darkest doubt when, we’re not so sure.  It is at those dark moments that all of us can so easily succumb to focusing all our time and energy in tracking down the weeds, doing everything in our power to root them out of what we hope will be our personal perpetual gardens of Eden. 

         Yes, we can spend our lives managing weeds, vainly trying to explain, fix and control.   And, many of us do.  But history tells us from the bloody centuries of the Crusades to the meanness in every stripe of fundamentalism, that weed control destroys more wheat than weeds.  Jesus said, “If someone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also.”  Why do that?  Are we to believe that Christians like being slapped around?  No.  Simply put, more gospel, more grace, more of Christ grows on a turned cheek than a clinched fist; always has, and always will.   

         At times, we are very much like St. Paul, staring at the weeds in our world and in our lives, “with groans that words cannot express.”  We long for answers, we want God to give us the green light, if not to “Round-Up” the weeds, at least to mow them down for a season.  Such is not always the work God places in our hands.  In fact, the parable clearly teaches that, at the end of time, God will ultimately deal with the weeds, not us. 

So, my friends, you may take up the cause of weed control.  Some of us spend much of our lives doing so angry, bitter, and disappointed.  I know.  Like you, I’ve often rallied my angry soul to weed control.  Our Lord, however, offers us a better way to deal with the weeds of life.  His better way is a much holier calling, brimming with contagious joy.  And what is that?  Spend our lives nurturing the gospel.  Love those whose lives seem choked by weeds; comfort the confused; sit patiently with the grieving; surprise the cynic with an unexpected gift, and maybe do it anonymously.  For it is indeed better to light one candle in this world of darkness, to cultivate the field of God’s dreams for the human heart, than to spend all our time cursing the darkness.  

Sunday Reflection: Gifts from God

There is a quote that has always meant a great deal to me - it goes something like this, “Our lives are a gift from God, but what we do with them is our gift to God.” That quote came home to me in a powerful way many years ago when I visited our Nations capital with my mother and sister. Washington, DC is a city of powerful symbols and memorials that speak to us of the history, promise and destiny of this land. Two of those memorials touched me deeply - the memorial to President Franklin Roosevelt and the Vietnam Memorial. Both these memorials powerfully convey in many respects the heart of God’s Word to us this day.

Shortly before my mother married my father, the Second World War broke out in Europe. After the bombing of Pearl Harbor, my father enlisted and served in the South Pacific. During those turbulent times, it was President Roosevelt whom my mother remembers calming the fears and anxieties of a nation with his fireside chats and hope filled speeches. No wonder then that on visiting his memorial a flood of memories touched my mother’s heart as she remembered what this one man, bound to his wheelchair was able to do for the spirit of this nation especially in the midst of war.

The Vietnam memorial remains one of the most visited sights in Washington. This silent memorial from a grateful nation remembers the heroism of thousands of men and women, many of whom died before the age of 25. History will be the final arbiter of all the factors - both positive and negative - that brought us into this conflict. Yet, for the men and women who died in this foreign land, it was the ageless value of patriotism and their willingness to lay down one’s life in defense of others, that is their glory.

My brothers and sisters, each one of us have been blessed by God in rich and varied ways. God’s creative word has fashioned each one of us with multiple gifts and talents. And with those gifts you are I are called to leave a legacy for others by the way we live our lives.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus speaks of the importance of sinking the roots of our lives into soil that will yield a rich harvest. As followers of the Lord, we have the privilege of being enriched by God’s Word and the values that it challenges us to live. In our tradition of faith, it is the sacramental life that nourishes and supports us in our Christian walk with the Lord. These gifts are the soil out of which we are to yield a rich harvest and bear much fruit.

As members of the Church each one of us with our unique gifts and talents are called to shape a world with the values and convictions of Jesus Christ. The responsibility to be church and to build the Kingdom in our midst belongs to no one else but ourselves who have been made new in Christ. Our lives are indeed gifts from God, but what we do with them for the sake of the kingdom is our gift to God.

Sunday Reflection: The Gift and Promise of Freedom

“Free at last, free at last, thank God Almighty, we’re free at last!” These famous words of the great civil rights pioneer, the Reverend Dr.Martin Luther King, Jr., were spoken as both a hope and a commitment and promise for the future as he mesmerized the hundreds of thousands of men, women and children who listened on August 28, 1963 in Washington, DC as he spoke from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial.

My brothers and sisters, freedom is indeed both a gift and challenge for each of us who gather this Sunday not only to remember our nations Independence but most of all to gather around the Holy Table of Word and Sacrament in gratitude for that gift.

Some years ago, the NBC news magazine, Dateline, presented an astounding story that spoke of freedom in a radically different way. The segment featured the work of an American scientist and entrepreneur who found himself obsessed with developing a way to give wheelchair bound individuals greater freedom in the midst of their physical disability. One day, he saw a young man come to an impasse in his traditional wheelchair in the face of a series of steps. There was nothing he could do on his own. He was completely dependent on the help of others if he was to maneuver through this obstacle. Challenged and intrigued by this situation that struck his heart, his creative and imaginative instincts took over. In time, he developed a prototype of a revolutionary new type of wheelchair that enables those who use it to go where they never thought possible. With automatic lifts, the individual can reach to normal heights to perform such simple tasks that we take for granted like, taking a glass from a kitchen cabinet, or cereal from an upper shelf in a super market. Because of specially designed wheels, the chair can traverse through sand and rough terrain enabling individuals to enjoy a “walk” along the ocean or in the forest. However, the most dramatic feature was its ability to go up flights of stairs on its own through an ingenious rotation of its wheels as well a computerized balancing system. A young girl who had been wheel chair bound for years was featured trying out this amazing new wheel chair. With family and friends around her, they saw the glow on her face as they experienced for the first time in years that physical freedom and mobility that had been taken from her in a tragic accident. As the chair lifted she was able to see her mother face to face and embrace her with tears of joy with the freedom that this new technology would bring to her life.

My brothers and sisters, the gift and promise of freedom is not only a reality we celebrate this Independence weekend but it is a gift that we cherish and celebrate as Christians who have been made new in Christ.

St. Paul in his letter to the Romans reminds us all that we are not bound to the life of the flesh rather have been empowered and freed by the gift of the Spirit in our lives. The spirit that raised Jesus from the dead can transform whatever holds us captive, freeing us to live fully as sons and daughters of the Father, brothers and sisters of the Lord Jesus.

That gift of Christian freedom is given to each of us so that we in turn might be the leaven in our world for transformation and change. The challenge of Christian freedom is a legacy given us by the Lord so that we might work for the fullness of God’s Kingdom here on earth. Yet, over the centuries and to the present day, it remains a scandal that often we Christians empowered and gifted in freedom by Christ, have failed to use that legacy as a gift for others. Whether it be the anti- Semitism that led to the holocaust in Christian Germany, apartheid at the hands of Christians in South Africa, slavery and segregation in our Christian land, or most recently, the keen awareness that the “Black Lives Matter” movement has brought to our country, all of these events remain a painful reminder to us all of the hypocrisy and blindness that is unworthy of our calling as children of light.

As we gather this weekend to be nourished and strengthened by the food of eternity and the words of everlasting life, let us be grateful for all that we have and all that we are in the this land of freedom and blessing. But let us also be mindful of those for whom freedom is still a distant reality and dream, whether they be enslaved by oppressive political systems, ideologies that crush the human spirit, victims enslaved by domestic violence, those imprisoned by seductive addictions in life or those who are crushed by poverty, sickness and disease. May the hope that is our in Christ, and the life giving spirit that he has given to us as his abiding gift, empower us all to work for justice in this land of freedom, and inspire us to channels of freedom and peace for all our sisters and brothers in the human family. May we indeed be able to proclaim in deed and in fact that in Christ we are, “Free at last, free at last, thank God almighty, we are free at last!”

Sunday Reflection: The Sacrament of New Life

One of the great privileges of having been associated with Mission San Juan Capistrano is, from time to time, baptizing infants in the venerable Serra Chapel.  Shortly after St. Junípero Serra founded this Mission on November 1, 1776, plans were laid for the construction of its first permanent place of worship.  By 1780, the Chapel was completed and Fr. Serra holds the distinction of celebrating the first baptisms here at the Mission.  When I was installed as Pastor of the Mission and the 34th successor to Serra, as part of the installation ceremony, Bishop Tod Brown, solemnly entrusted to me the first volume of the Baptismal registry of this Mission in which is inscribed, in Serra’s own handwriting, the names of those whom he first baptized.   

At the conclusion of the Gospel of St. Matthew, we hear the stirring mandate, given by the Lord himself to his apostles, to go and baptize in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  For nearly 2000 years, we Christians have been faithful to that mandate and have been privileged to lovingly hand on the faith from one generation to the next, through the Sacrament of Holy Baptism. 

While we Catholics believe that the central Sacrament of the Lord’s enduring presence with his people is found in the Holy Eucharist, our access to the Holy Table and the food of eternity can only come through the life-giving waters of Baptism. 

In today’s second reading from St. Paul’s letter to the Romans, we have an exquisitely beautiful meditation on this first sacrament of the Christian journey.  St. Paul reminds his hearers that in Baptism, you and I were plunged into the death and resurrection of the Lord Jesus.  Through this sacramental moment, a radical transformation took place in our deepest identity – we became sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father, and brothers and sisters to Christ, His Son, and hence, brothers and sisters to one another.  No longer is the common expression, ‘blood is thicker than water’ applicable to us as Christians.  For, through the waters of Baptism, you and I are irrevocably bound to one another as members now, of God’s Holy and Beloved family. 

To die and to rise with Christ in the waters of Baptism was powerfully conveyed in the structuring of Baptismal fonts or pools in the early church.  Invariably, they were positioned at the threshold of the church building and were literally pools of water where individuals would step down into the waters and be plunged completely, and then rise out of the waters, born again through the grace of this moment. 

While Catholic theology over time developed an understanding that Baptism frees one from the original disorientation of our lives from God’s will and purpose – freedom FROM original sin – the grace of this Sacrament is far more a freedom FOR something.  It is a freedom for each one of us to live the life that we now bear as being ‘Christ-ed’ or ‘Christened.’  As the Baptized of the Lord, we are called and empowered by the grace of the Holy Spirit to be the prophetic voice of Christ in our families, society, nation and culture in which we live.  We are called to be the leaven of transformation to a world that is yearning to be freed from the power of darkness and despair by the bright promise and hope of the Good News of Christ. 

No wonder, then, that as recipients of so great a gift, we should Forever sing the goodness of the Lord.

Sunday Reflection: Trust over Fear

Some years ago there was a national study of people’s fears. Thousands of people were asked what they feared most? The pollsters were sure they already knew the answer: The fear of dying would rank number one. But they were wrong! When all the data were in, the fear of dying was a distant second. People’s greatest fear by far was the fear of speaking in public! In other words, most people would rather die than face an audience!

My brothers and sisters, fear is no stranger to any of us. In many shapes and sizes it regularly arrives on our doorstep all uninvited. It has the power to rob us of the best parts of life, the power to steal whole days, weeks, and years from us, and the power to lock us up in narrow places behind grey walls. In fact, unchecked and prolonged fear in our lives can lead to one of the most prevalent undiagnosed problems of psychological unrest for millions of people in our world - clinical depression.

Yet, even in the face of dangers that are truly life-threatening, fear can take control of us only if we let it, that is, only if our inner self is out of order and in disarray.

In his words to us about fear, Jesus is really talking to us about what may be out of order in our inner selves. He’s urging us to attend to our unfinished inner work so that fear will have no power to invade our hearts and wound or paralyze us.

So what is this unfinished inner work of ours? It varies from person to person, but it always hinges on two things: what we see when we look at ourselves (which may not be what’s actually there!), and what we see when we look at God.

When we look at ourselves, if we’re blind to any part of the goodness that God has put in us, we’re opening the door to fear and offering it a long-term lease on our life.

If we look within and close our eyes to any part of our dark side and pretend it isn’t there, we’ll end up projecting that darkness outside onto other people who will scare us to death because we’ve made them look so monstrous.

When we look at God, if we fail to recognize how completely God is father to us, or fail to see how great is his power and how unthinkable it is that he would ever abandon us - if we fail to see all that, we are giving fear the key to our lives and inviting it to stay.

What God wants for us all is a wonderful life, free of the fear that can shrivel and kill. He is asking us this very day to see him as he really is, our very dear father, and to see ourselves as he made us, gifted and cherished children who still are in the process of becoming the people God intends us to be.

“Look at what’s right under your nose,” the Lord says to us. “Trust what you see and banish fear from your heart forever.” That is his word to us this day. Let us listen to him and trust.

Reflection for the Solemnity of the Body & Blood of Christ

There is probably no more moving or touching celebration within the rich liturgical tradition of our Church than the ordination of a priest.

One week ago, our local Church of Orange gathered around our Bishop to ordain four men, chosen from God’s Holy People, for service in our Diocese. While Christ Cathedral was virtually empty save for immediate family members due to Pandemic restrictions, nevertheless, the entire local Church was joined in spirit for this happy occasion. My own ordination some forty-six years ago at times seems as if it was only yesterday. Gathered with family and friends, the long awaited moment - for some, prepared for by eight and is some cases even twelve years of study and preparation, finally arrived. While the central symbolic gesture of the ordination ceremony is the ancient laying on of hands on the head of the candidate by the Bishop together with the prayer of consecration that follows, there is another moment in the ordination liturgy that powerfully brings home what is at the heart of priestly ministry.

Taking a chalice filled with wine and a paten with altar breads on it - the newly ordained priest kneels before the bishop as cup and bread and handed to him to be touched. The Bishop says to him:

Accept from the holy people of God the gifts to be offered to him. Know what you are doing, and imitate the mystery you celebrate: model your life on the mystery of the Lord’s cross.

With these words and the symbols presented, the newly ordained is reminded of the great responsibility and privilege entrusted to him as servant leader in the midst of God’s people. He is to take the cup of salvation and call on the name of the Lord. He is charged with leading the community of faith in that act of Thanksgiving that is so central to shaping our lives and our identities as women and men of the new creation. He is called to break the bread and share the cup in the Lord’s name by keeping the memory of the Lord’s death and resurrection alive in our minds and hearts in the gift of the Eucharist.

Flowing out from the ministry of Jesus and rooted in his paschal journey from life, through death and back to life again, the Eucharist not only is central to the life and ministry of every priest, but in the words of the Second Vatican Council it is for all the baptized: a sacrament of faithful relationships, a sign of unity, a bond of divine love, a special Easter meal. In it, “Christ is received, the inner self is filled with grace, and a pledge of future glory is given to us.

On this Feast of the Most Holy Body and Blood of the Lord, all of us are invited to reflect on the indispensable place that the Eucharist should have in our lives as Catholic Christians.

Our Church teaches that first and foremost the Eucharist is a sacrificial meal that symbols forth the living presence of the risen Lord in the Word of God proclaimed and the bread and cup shared. While we may sometimes think of the word “Eucharist” as a noun, the objective reality of the Lord’s real presence under the forms of bread and wine- it is far more a verb - the dynamic action of God’s holy people gathering in the Lord’s name to be faithful to the mandate given us by the Lord himself on the eve of his passion and death - “to do this meal in memory” of him. As the council so powerfully reminded us, we are never passive spectators when we gather for the Eucharistic celebration, but rather active participants through common gestures, spoken and sung responses, the engagement of our minds and hearts in this moment of praise and thanks. While the privilege to preside over the Eucharist is given to ordained ministers, all the baptized are called to be active celebrants in this moment of grace and blessing.

Flowing from the Eucharistic action, we Catholics believe that through the power of the Holy Spirit, the simple earthly elements of bread and wine become for us the risen presence of the Lord in our midst - first as food for our journey in life so that we might grow into the likeness of the one whom we receive, deepening our solidarity and friendship with him; and second, as an abiding presence to be adored in prayer and praise. Orthodox Catholic belief firmly holds that following the Eucharistic celebration the real presence of the Risen Lord continues to be present in the elements. That is why we reserve the Eucharistic bread in the tabernacle so that it might be taken to the sick and homebound and revered in prayer.

While our Church possesses a rich and venerable theology on the Holy Eucharist, for me as a priest there is probably no more powerful witness to the centrality of this wondrous gift and promise from the Lord than to experience it received for the first time by a young first communicate. As he or she ever so carefully and reverently says “Amen” and cradles the loving Lord in his or her small hands, and then receives the living Christ with the simple and trusting faith and fervor of a child - no words of theology are needed. The gift of love is received in love and the life of the Church continues to unfold for another generation.

My brothers and sisters, may gathering this day, deepen our love for the Lord in the Eucharist. May we be renewed in spirit by this wondrous sacrament. May it strengthen our hope for the day when no signs or symbols will be needed but we will come to see the Lord face to face in the Kingdom of his glory.

Reflection for Trinity Sunday

Everyone loves an ending.  When the homily or speech seems to go on for too long, what is the speaker’s phrase that we captive listeners long to hear?—“Finally, in conclusion . . . .”  Right?  That is the signal to reach for the car keys, slip back on the shoes, straighten up and listen up for the big finish. 

         Endings are important.  They linger in the memory after earlier bits of discourse fade.  That is why writers and speakers work so hard at endings.  We know that those final words may be the only ones to remain “face-up” in the minds of our hearers or readers, like the top magazine on a stack beside the bedside.  So it is common for communicators to imbed their most important messages within those closing words, knowing that this may be their last and best hope for getting their point across. 

         Some of our best communicators honed their conclusions down to an art form.  Who will forget the way long-time CBS anchorman Walter Cronkite closed his nightly newscast?  “And that’s the way it was, June 15th, 2014.”  Or comedienne Carol Burnette, closing each show blowing a kiss to the audience? Whatever we might think of these communicators or their medium, they knew the power of a conclusion. 

         But this power is not limited to celebrities and television personalities.  Even the simplest communication vehicles employ the possibility of power in a conclusion.  Consider the personal letter.  Even in this age of emails and instant messaging, there are some letters that beg to be done by hand in the old fashioned way.  It may be written on only a single sheet of paper or stationery.  It may be typed or handwritten.  But consider the message conveyed in just the way that letter signs off.  What a difference it makes whether the letter ends with the word Love, or Sincerely Yours, or Respectfully!  All of these are appropriate endings for a letter, depending on the occasion of the letter and the relationship between the sender and the receiver.  Ending a letter to your boss or to the IRS with Respectfully is fine, but how different that word would sound between a mother and her son?  Or worse yet, imagine fifty consecutive letters between a sailor and his wife who are separated by a war, all of which ending warmly with All my love, forever.  How abrasive would the conclusion ‘Sincerely’ sound to the confused recipient at the end of the fifty-first letter?  

         Endings matter.  With just a few words conclusions can carry a heavy load of communication.  No wonder we do well to pay attention to endings!  The great apostle, Saint Paul, certainly knew this.  Our epistle lesson today is the conclusion to his correspondence to the Church at Corinth.  Notice, after he writes the word Finally, how he ends with a set of staccato phrases designed to reinforce the great themes from his letters to this church—aim for perfection, be of one mind, live in peace . . . .  Like beads of a rosary, each phrase is a sound-byte of a sermon that can be handled over and over in the mind. 

         And then Paul ends the letter with a great Trinitarian benediction.  May the grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the fellowship of the Holy Spirit be with you all.  What a powerful conclusion!  Is Paul trying to introduce or explain the mystery of the Trinity here?  Hardly.  Had that been the case, he would not have waited for the closing sentence to introduce such an important theological concept.  And he probably would have used a different order, listing God the Father first.  But Paul is not writing a creed here.  He is simply expressing a closing wish for his church to continue to experience the fullness of God’s presence and power.  Could there be a more potent wish?   

         When we speak of the doctrine of the Trinity, we do so with hushed tones like those who walk in a great cathedral or stand before an awe-inspiring vista of nature.  To speak of God at all requires some humility, an awareness that human language and the human mind is not able to contain completely the mystery and majesty of the Divine.  How exactly the One God of Old Testament faith is also the Three-in-One God of the Church is not easy to describe, no matter how many theological degrees one holds.  But one way of explaining the rise of this doctrine may be seen in this brief conclusion to Paul’s letter.  Though far from a developed doctrinal explanation, Paul is giving voice to the experience of God by the Church of all ages.  The fact is, we have experienced the incredible forgiving grace of God, as lived out in the teaching and life of Jesus Christ, and we have experienced the love of God from the act of creation forward, as God has continually found ways to reach out to us and redeem us with a love more powerful than hate and death.  And finally, we have experienced the unique fellowship of the Christian community that can only be explained as the presence of God’s Spirit among us, uniting and empowering us to be more than we would ever become on our own.  Three gods?  No.  But three ways in which we have experienced the One God’s presence and power.   

         Grace that welcomes and redeems those who are broken, love that transforms those lives into a blessing for the world, and a unique fellowship that creates community out of those who were once lost, last, and least—these are the characteristics that define the Church when she is at her best.  And Paul is simply reminding the Corinthian church, as he reminds our church, that these qualities do not come from within us, but from beyond us, from the very heart of God Himself. 

         Everyone loves an ending.  It is then that words are compressed to their most dense meanings.  Final words, from a pen on paper or from the lips of one who is dying, make us draw close, listen, and remember.  When General William Booth, the founder of the Salvation Army, drew his last breath, he uttered this final word, the word which summed up his entire life of service, the word which serves still as the commission for officers in his army of Christian servants among the world’s poor and downtrodden.  What was that final word?  William Booth drew that last breath and whispered this word: “Others.”  I think the apostle Paul would have been proud, don’t you?

Reflection for Pentecost

There was a pastor who gathered up a group of volunteers to visit everyone in town and invite everyone to join the parish.  One of the volunteers was especially nervous about making the visits.  So the pastor encouraged her by stressing the power of prayer.  “Before you go up and ring the doorbell,” he said, “just take a moment and talk to the Lord about it.”  Nervously she agreed. 

Later when the volunteers came back to give their report, the timid lady was bubbling with enthusiasm.  “Father, what you told me about prayer really works,” she said.  “As I put my finger on the doorbell, I prayed really hard that the people wouldn’t be home.  And they weren’t!” 

Sisters and brothers, isn’t it amazing how fear so can influence and shape our lives and actions.  This poor parish volunteer was so frightened at the prospect of encountering someone she didn’t know that she prayed that it wouldn’t happen.

Our fears can indeed influence and shape our lives.  The disciples  gathered in the upper room as told by the Evangelist John were behind locked doors.  They were there for fear of the Jews of that time who by now were beginning to lay plans to frustrate the astounding stories there were circulating about the Resurrection of Jesus.  In the face of their fears, Jesus appears to them and speaks his familiar greeting of Peace as he gifts them with the empowerment of the Holy Spirit - a spirit of reconciliation, healing and forgiveness.    It would be that same spirit that would continue to transform their fears into fearless courage as again the Spirit takes hold of them on that first Pentecost Sunday as told by Luke in our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles.  From that moment on, the disciples would never be the same.  They refused to let their fears determine their destiny.  With the fire of God’s love in their hearts, they went forth that day and proclaimed the “mighty acts of God.”  We are here this day because of them. 

My friends these past years have presented our church with unprecedented challenges to our credibility.  While scandal has sadly been part of the human history of our Church down through the centuries, that all too human face of the Church can make it ever more difficult for us to witness to the good news of Christ to a world that thrives on skepticism and doubt.  Let us pray that our fears, our anger, our disappointment and our shame not be the final word to determine our future as a Church in this country.  While we must learn from hard and painful lessons that these years have brought us, we must look to the future with hope as a Church that has been promised the abiding presence of the Holy Spirit.  We pray in the great sequence of this day, the Veni Sancte Spiritus - that the Spirit “heal our wounds, our strength renew - guide the steps that go astray.” 

As the Body of Christ enlivened by the presence of the gift of the Spirit, let us work toward renewing the face of the earth by letting that same spirit continue to renew and purify our Church.  May the Spirit that brought courage to the disciples, give us the courage and wisdom to learn the hard lessons of this moment, to drink deeply of the Spirit of Truth, as we struggle to bring the healing message of Christ to a wounded world. 

Come, Holy Spirit, fill the hearts of your faithful and kindle in them the fire of your love.  Send forth your spirit and they shall be created.  And you will renew the face of the earth.

The overwhelming opening of Fantasia Super: Komm, Heiliger Geist, Herre Gott, performed by Leo van Doeselaar for All of Bach, refers almost literally to the opening lines of Acts 2 from the Bible, which say about Pentecost: “And when the day of Pentecost was fully come, they were all with one accord in one place. And suddenly there came a sound from heaven as of a rushing mighty wind, and it filled all the house where they were sitting. And there appeared unto them cloven tongues like as of fire, and it sat upon each of them. And they were all filled with the Holy Ghost, and began to speak with other tongues, as the Spirit gave them utterance”.

Reflection for Ascension Day

Some years ago,  the number one nonfiction best seller in the New York Times Best Sellers list was a book by James Van Praagh entitled, Talking to Heaven. In it this self-described world-famous medium discusses communication with the ‘other side.’ He talks about making connection with those who have gone before us in death. His book skyrocketed in sales following his appearance some time ago on the then very popular, Larry King show. I must admit, I saw that show and was utterly taken aback as caller after caller shared with Mr. Van Praagh their desire to make contact with a loved one who had died. Apparently, knowing nothing of these individuals, Van Praagh spoke of details in their life as well as death that supposedly were known only to their family and friends. Subsequent critiques of Mr. Van Praagh’s so called “medium skills” have highly questioned his methods. 

For my part, I remain skeptical, yet one could not but be moved by the gratitude of those for whom these messages where a tether, a long-desired connection, with a loved one taken in death. 

My brothers and sisters, there is no question that part of the wrenching anxiety that comes with the death of a loved one is that sense of absence - the void that will now be left in our lives by the ones who were so much a part of our lives. There is that sense of utter emptiness that comes in the face of the death of a loved one. 

No wonder then that the disciples of the Lord were so crestfallen as they walked away from the hill of Calvary knowing that their master had been taken from them. Who could ever take his place? Yet, in the Resurrection experience that sense of absence was radically transformed as the risen Lord stood before his loved ones and spoke words of peace, ate breakfast, and challenged them to move from doubt and unbelief to a certainty that comes from “seeing with one’s own eyes”. 

But now at the Ascension, the Lord once again speaks of leaving them and once again their hearts are filled with anxiety as they fear this moment of ultimate leave-taking. Yet, the deepest meaning of the feast that gathers us in celebration this morning, is one that paradoxically speaks more of presence than absence; hope rather than despair; promise rather than dread. 

As recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, Jesus final words to his disciples empowers them to be his witnesses “in Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria, yes, even to the ends of the earth”. As these words are spoken, Luke tells us that the Lord was taken from their sight. To underscore the significance of these final words, Luke speaks of two men dressed in white - perhaps angels - who remind the speechless disciples, motionless as they gaze heavenward - to get on with doing the work of the Gospel. They remind them that the Lord will indeed return. 

My brothers and sisters, one of the most prized titles given to us by the Apostle Paul is our identity as the Body of Christ. Bound together through the life-giving waters of baptism and strengthened for the work of the Gospel by the power of the spirit - we are now to fill the void and darkness of this world with the presence of Christ who is forever light in the midst of darkness. 

The mission and ministry of Christ, risen in Glory and now seated at the Father’s right hand, is now placed into our hands. We must now be his voice of hope for the hopeless, his words of healing to the brokenhearted; his promise of forgiveness to those imprisoned in the selfishness of sin.  This is precisely the meaning of the sacred ‘accompaniment’ that Pope Francis speaks of as the duty of every Christian.

Just as so many today yearn to make contact with their loved one’s taken in death, that desire on our part as Christians to stay connected with the Lord of Heaven and Earth is placed within our hands and in our hearts. 

As a priest for 46 years now,  I am continually amazed as I hear the stories of conversion as men and women of all ages come to experience the presence of the Lord in their lives. Invariably the door to that presence has been opened by another - perhaps a husband or wife whose own deep faith and love has mirrored the face of Christ; perhaps it was a relative or close friend whose patience and acceptance revealed the Holy One; perhaps it was a stranger reaching out to another at a time of incredible personal loss or darkness, bringing consolation and hope that revealed the Christ of mercy and compassion. 

As we gather then on this Ascension day, let us be renewed in our resolve never to underestimate the gift that has been given to us to reveal the presence of Christ to another. The mission and ministry of the Risen Lord is now in our hands - let us rejoice and be glad. 

Reflection for the Sixth Sunday of Easter

There was a rabbi who was having major disagreements with his congregation so he called a meeting to settle things once and for all. 

The rabbi and the eleven elders met around a grand conference table and debated the issues one by one till it became clear that the rabbi stood alone. “Enough of this!” said the president of the congregation. 

“Let’s take a vote and let the majority rule.” A vote was taken, the ballots were counted, and the president said, “Rabbi, it’s eleven to one against you. We have a majority.” 

The rabbi stood, shaking with righteous anger, “So you think because of that vote that you are right and I am wrong? I call upon the Holy One of Israel to give us a sign that I am right and you are wrong.” 

With that there was a mighty crash of thunder and a bolt of lightning that struck the conference table and cracked it in two. The room was filled with smoke and the elders were hurled to the floor. But the rabbi stood tall, his eyes flashing, a grim smile on his face. 

Slowly the president pulled himself off the floor and brushed himself off. “All right,” he said, “Eleven to TWO. But we still have a majority!” 

My brothers and sisters, some folks never get the message! 

There’s not one of us who needs to be told that sometimes life can get very complicated, confusing, exhausting, and very painful. This time of pandemic has been a complicated, confusing and exhausting time for all of us.  The economic challenges will be with us for years.  All of this, of course, is overshadowed by the gnawing sense of loss for all those who have lost a loved one at this time.  Yes, indeed, troubles come, and when they do, we can feel awfully alone. 

Jesus understood this very well, and he didn’t turn his back on our hurt. Listen to what he says: “I won’t leave you orphaned. I will ask the Father to give you an advocate who will be with you always.” 

That is God’s promise: we’ll never be abandoned or left alone; we’ll always have the Holy Spirit living right here within us, guiding, consoling, probing, inspiring, healing, nudging us in the right direction. Always! 

That’s God’s promise. So why do we so often feel abandoned and alone and without comfort or inspiration? Why aren’t we getting the message? Because we’re not listening, not listening with confidence in the full extent of God’s powerful love for us. Not listening with all our heart. 

Listening, not talking. That’s what our daily prayer is supposed to be about, and what our coming here for mass is about: listening with confident expectation, because our good God has so much he wants to give us, so much help, so much comfort, so much wisdom. 

So let us be still - very still and silent inside - that we may begin to receive what has been within us always, from our very beginning: God himself, God within us all! 

Reflection for the Fifth Sunday of Easter - Mother's Day

Reflecting on this annual celebration in our country set aside to honor all mothers, whether we are blessed to enjoy their living presence or are filled with grateful memories of those who have gone before us in faith, the image of a mother remains a powerful symbol for so many of us.  I fondly remember my father, digging into a beautiful, juicy filet mignon and declaring for all to hear, ‘tender as a mother’s love!’  Motherhood is virtually synonymous with those prized and endearing qualities of love and tenderness.  From being nourished at our mother’s breast to her gentle kiss that had a near miraculous way of bringing instant healing to a bruised finger or knee, loving tenderness is a hallmark of motherhood. 

No wonder, then, that these attributes so beautifully exemplified in our mothers, would analogously be used in speaking of the community of believers in Christ, the Church.  There is something inherently touching for us as Catholics, when we speak of the Church as our ‘mother.’  From her font of new life, new Christians come forth.  From her Table of Blessing, we are nourished with the living presence of her Son.  Through the reconciling gift of her priests, the bruising that sin creates in our friendship with her Son, is healed and made new. With the tenderness of a mother’s love, the Church prepares us for our eternal destiny in our Father’s house. 

God’s word today speaks of this maternal care that the community of believers exemplified from the very earliest days of the church’s existence.  The Greco-Roman world despite its flickers of grandness, was a cruel and heartless place, especially for those who tenuously existed on its margins – the sick, the aged, the poor, the widows and the homeless.  In our reading from the Acts of the Apostles, we witness how the early community of believers sought to make the care of these individuals, a priority.  The emergence of the ministry of deacons was precisely for the purpose of extending the loving tenderness and care of the Body of Christ to those who had no one else to turn to.  It was the church that provided the all-important ‘social net’ of care for the powerless and those who lived on the margins of society.   

For nearly 2000 years, this maternal care on the part of the church for the voiceless and underserved of society continues to be a hallmark of a community that strives to see and serve the Christ in our sisters and brothers.  Perhaps that is one of the reasons why St. Theresa of Calcutta has endeared herself so beautifully to both believer and unbeliever, alike.  In her and in the community of sisters that she founded, the very best of a Church that is both mother and tender healer is so dramatically and beautifully exemplified. 

This image of the church as ‘mother’ is needed more than ever today, when the poor, the immigrant, the homeless, the sick and those on the margins of our society are often sacrificed at the altar of a ‘me first’ society.  In the face of such self-obsessional narcissism, sadly witnessed in our society and its leaders, the church’s prophetic stance, ‘to comfort the afflicted and afflict the comfortable’ can be the truest sign of our authentic commitment to the Christ, whose Body we are.  

Reflection for Good Shepherd Sunday - World Day of Prayer for Vocations

Forty-five years ago, on the Fourth Sunday of Easter, the day after my ordination to the diaconate, I preached my first homily at my home parish in the San Fernando Valley. After seven years of seminary formation my longed for and hoped for goal of finally becoming a priest was in sight. 

Preparation in the seminary to eventually preach the word, begins early on in seminary formation. In my seminary college days, we were given yearly courses in public speaking with a particular emphasis on properly and effectively proclaiming the Scriptures. I remember our professor criticizing one particular student who was presenting a rather lack luster and unenthusiastic “reading” of the scriptures to the class. In the middle of his reading the professor yelled - “Stop, you’re not reading the daily news, your proclaiming the good news! Let’s hear that in your voice!” 

When the day of my first homily arrived and I ascended the pulpit in the Church where I had made my first communion and confirmation. To say that my heart was not beating double time would be less than honest. 

Seated in the second pew in front of me - only because I wouldn’t let them sit in the first pew - was my mother, father and sister. I remember proclaiming the Gospel that day - the Gospel of the Good Shepherd, remembering the words of my seminary professor, “Let’s hear that good news in your voice”! Putting down the Lectionary, I took a deep breath and began my first real homily. And so, began a part of ministry that has with God’s grace continued for 45 years now. 

This Sunday always has a way of triggering my imagination with grateful memories as the Church asks her ministers to reflect on the call to ordained and consecrated ministry in the Church on this Good Shepherd Sunday and one designated by the Church as World Day of Prayer for Vocations . God’s word gives us the vivid image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd. The Good Shepherd knows his flock and his flock knows him. So attuned are the sheep to their shepherd that even though they may not see him, they recognize his voice when he calls. Even if someone else may call for them, they know that voice and will only respond when he calls. 

The call to priestly ministry in the Church today continues to both fascinate but more often than not mystify people. The unfortunate scandals surrounding a few ministers of the Gospel which inevitably end up on the front pages of our newspapers are a sobering reminder to us that, like the apostles themselves, the Lord does not pick the perfect and the sinless to continue his mission. Rather, he picks you and me, men and women whose own weaknesses and sins are continual reminder that it is not ourselves that we preach but Christ Jesus and him crucified and risen. 

Some time ago there was a documentary on Television that explored the topic of what really makes people happy and fulfilled in life. They interviewed a group of folks who had won big in state lotteries with the presumption that instant wealth would radically change that so called “happiness quotient” in their lives. Invariably, however, this had very little if anything to do with affecting their happiness. In some cases, a few individuals were less happy and fulfilled because of their instant wealth. The program concluded that the key to true happiness, weather one was fabulously wealthy or of modest means had far more to do with living lives out of deeply held convictions and nurturing strong and loving relationships in life. For the vast majority of those interviewed - this is what held and sustained them in happiness. 

Reflecting on my own life as a priest, there is no question that living out my vocation as a response to the Lord’s call in my life - being attuned to his voice - and building strong and loving relationships with others has been a hallmark of happiness and fulfillment in priesthood over the years. 

Now, don’t get me wrong, as in all our lives, there are indeed moments of frustration and loneliness, times of anxiety and apprehension - yet those are inevitable aspects of all our lives in the human condition. What ultimately carries us, though, through these moments is the realization that the voice of the shepherd continues to be discerned in the rich and mysterious moments that make up our lives. For a priest it may be simply listening with compassion to the desire of someone to get “right” with God again. Or, being there at the beginning of life’s journey with all its hope and promise or bringing comfort and consolation to those who lovingly bid farewell to those who continue that journey into eternity. It may be the joy and happiness of witnessing the light of faith transform lives or simply enjoying the sustaining goodness that comes from knowing one is loved in friendship. 

“How can the Word be preached unless one is sent” - so St. Paul reminds us. While we are all called and sent forth to witness to God’s word, on this World Day of Prayer for Vocations, let us remember in a special way those whom the Shepherd’s voice still seeks out to lead God’s Holy people in priestly and religious ministry in our Church. Let us pray that we continue to shape a parish and local church community that supports and celebrates this call which may be going forth even today to members of our own parish family. All of us have a role to play in supporting and sustaining vocations to the priesthood and the religious life - by the attitudes we share with others, by the witness we give in our families, and by our supportive prayers offered for an increase of vocations to the priesthood and the religious life. 

Reflection for the Third Sunday of Easter

One of the joyous pastoral aspects of the Easter Season, outside of this extraordinary moment of pandemic, is to witness the adult members of our community who for months and in some cases, years had been journeying through study, prayer and reflection, to enter the Catholic Church.  It has sometimes been said that the Easter Vigil without baptisms is like the proverbial apple pie without ice cream or a kiss without a hug.  In other words, the fullness of the Easter experience comes home to us as a parish community when we witness and celebrate new life in our Church, the new life that baptism both expresses and realizes.  

What has brought these men and women to embrace our Church?  What brings them to Catholicism.  Unlike some of the more traditional Christian denominations that are part of the American experience who are suffering from decreasing numbers.  That certainly is not the case for Catholicism.  While the secular press may wish to paint a picture of crisis, upheaval and theological dissension in our ranks, there is something that continues to powerfully attract adult men and women to this 2000-year-old Christian way of life which is, as the old Latin maxim states, ever ancient and new.

One of the questions that I inevitably ask those who are inquiring into the Catholic way of life, or those who have recently become Catholic, is the simple: What is it that attracted you to the Faith?  Needless to say, there are a variety of responses such as the desire to share a common faith in one’s family or the powerful witness of a Catholic spouse - “I want what she has” or “I want what he has.”  But more often than not, it is the Eucharist and the central place which this pivotal doctrine plays in our Catholic way of life that holds a powerful attraction for men and women seeking to live with integrity the Christian way of life.  It is the Eucharist that for 2000 years has shaped the life of our Church.  It is the Eucharist and our belief in the abiding presence of the risen Lord in our midst - body and blood, soul and divinity - that has been the anchor of our belief and the source of stability in a Church that is ever ancient and ever new. 

In the 24th Chapter of the Gospel of Luke today, the disciples who had come to know and love the Lord Jesus are crestfallen, helpless and hopeless as they find themselves leaving Jerusalem after the crucifixion of the Lord.  They are troubled by astonishing reports that somehow, someway, this Jesus continues to live in their midst.  This is news that is just too good to be true for them.  Then a stranger comes into their midst - he begins to speak to them, reminds them of the legacy of their faith enshrined in their scriptures, and then is asked to stay with them to share a meal.  During the meal he takes bread, blesses and breaks it - and in that gesture so characteristic of Jesus, they recognized that it was the Lord who was in their midst - they recognized him in the breaking of bread. 

That expression, “the breaking of bread” is probably the oldest term we have for what our Catholic tradition now refers to as the “Eucharist”, the “Mass”, “Holy Communion”.  It is an expression that reflects an action - the sharing of a meal which has now been transformed into an experience of perpetual remembrance of the Risen and living Lord in our midst.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church articulates our unique belief in the Eucharist when it states that our gathering in faith is for no ordinary meal but rather a participation in the living remembrance of a “sacrificial” meal in which the saving effect of the Lord’s life, death and resurrection continues to transform and empower us for the work of the Gospel.  Time and space cannot contain the Lord’s lasting gift to his friends.   Through the proclamation of God’s Word in the Scripture - the Lord is present to us.  In our gathering in faith - he lives among us.  In those who minister at this Holy Table, he is present.  But most of all, as is so often the case in our faith, the Lord comes to us in the ordinary and simple realities of life - in a piece of bread and a cup of wine.  In these simple earthly elements, logic gives way to faith, and this food becomes a door to the sacred enabling us to proclaim with Thomas the Apostle, “My Lord and my God”. 

My brothers and sisters, may our love and commitment to the Eucharist continue to be a hallmark of our lives as Catholics.  May we recognize His presence among us in the breaking of our bread at this Holy Table.  And may others come to know that the Risen Lord is present with us still through our lives broken in loving and compassionate service of others who hunger for the bread of understanding, forgiveness and healing in their lives.

Reflection for the Second Sunday of Easter

Jesus came and stood in their midst
and said to them, “Peace be with you.” 

There are some words that are nearly impossible to translate into English without losing some of their original meanings.  One of those words is the Hebrew, Shalom.  It is normally translated simply as Peace in English; however, ‘peace’ does not do justice to the richness of that word in its original Hebrew.  Shalom when it is used as a common greeting, wishes to others, harmony, wholeness, completeness, prosperity and tranquility. 

It is that beautiful word that, undoubtedly, the risen Jesus used in speaking to his disciples for the first time as he found them quarantined in fear in that upper room following the his crucifixion and the strange stories that he was seen alive.  Jesus, who knew their hearts, was aware of the fears that paralyzed them.  No wonder then that he used this word, shalom, so rich in meaning to calm their fears and to assure them that all would be well. 

All would be well.  How important that reality of shalom is for all of us whose lives have been turned upside-down in this world-wide pandemic that has gripped so many in fear in apprehension.  We, like the disciples, find ourselves quarantined and not knowing what the future may hold for us.  And Jesus, the good and merciful shepherd that he is, stands before us again and speaks that greeting of shalom to each of us, reassuring us that from the Lord’s perspective, all will be well. 

As terrifying as a death-dealing pandemic may be, the Lord in our gospel story today goes to the reality that can equally fill our lives with dis-ease and paralyze us from becoming all that he wants us to be.  The passage speaks of Jesus gifting the disciples with his spirit to forgive.   

I recently saw the utterly charming movie, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, with Tom Hanks playing Mr. Rogers.  At its heart, it is a moving parable of the power of forgiveness to heal and make whole - the power of forgiveness to gift us with shalom in our lives. 

As we celebrate these 50 days of Easter rejoicing, let us bask in the shalom that the Risen Jesus desires for each of us in the face of whatever might threaten to steal that gift from our lives.  And let us realize the power that each one of us possesses to grant shalom to one another through the simple words I forgive you! 

Reflection for Easter Sunday

Then the other disciple also went in,
the one who had arrived at the tomb first,
and he saw and believed.
For they did not yet understand the Scripture
that he had to rise from the dead. 

During this extraordinary moment when virtually all the world finds itself quarantined in their homes as a result of the pandemic that has gripped us with fear, I find myself inspired and encouraged by a gift given to me some 46 years ago on the occasion of my priestly ordination.  The gift was a beautiful serigraph by the famous 20th century artist and religious sister, Sr. Corita Kent.  It is done in her quintessential typical style combining a quote with vivid colors.  The quote is from the French philosopher and Christian existentialist, Gabriel Marcel.  In bold calligraphy it proclaims: We can only speak of Hope! 

My friends, on this Easter day, 2020, that quote captures the essence and meaning of this Easter for people of faith down through the centuries.  Christ has broken the power of darkness, sin and hopelessness, conquering death in his Resurrection victory. 

Today we celebrate the pivotal feast of the Christian faith on which hinges the entirety of the good news of Christ.  As St. Paul reminds us, “If Christ had not risen from the dead, your faith is in vain.” 

Despite whatever may challenge the human spirit in whatever chapter of human history we may find ourselves in, the light from that empty tomb resonates with its incessant proclamation of hope for all who are willing to surrender in loving belief. 

And so, even in the midst of a world scarred by the fear of this moment, the risen Jesus stands before us and with us with his outstretched hands, scarred themselves with the nail prints of the cross, beckoning us to sing our Alleluias. 

On this feast of feasts, let us make the ancient hymn of this day our own in faith and unfailing hope in the risen one who is always in our midst: 

Yes, Christ my hope is arisen;
    to Galilee he goes before you.
Christ indeed from death is risen, our new life obtaining.
    Have mercy, victor King, ever reigning!
    Amen. Alleluia.

Reflection for Holy Saturday - Easter Vigil

And behold, Jesus met them on their way and greeted them.
They approached, embraced his feet, and did him homage.
Then Jesus said to them, “Do not be afraid.
Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee,
and there they will see me.” 

From the depth of emotion on witnessing the Savior of the world hung on the cross as a common criminal, the Church with exultant joy greets the unfailing light that comes forth from the tomb as we celebrate the ‘mother of all vigils’ on Holy Saturday, the first celebration of the Easter mysteries. 

The Vigil liturgy is almost an embarrassment of ritual riches as every human sense is taken up to mark the reality of death giving way to unending life in the Risen Savior.  Darkness gives way to light as the Paschal candle enters into our darkened churches to dispel literally and metaphorically the darkness that shrouds our lives and our world. 

Our extended readings present a moving panorama of Salvation History from creation, liberation to exultation in Resurrection as we greet our Easter Gospel from Matthew with our exultant Alleluias that have been silent for these 40 days of our Lenten journey. 

The meaning of the Easter mysteries takes flesh in the new Christians who spring forth from our baptismal pools that are, indeed, the spiritual wombs from which new life springs. 

Our celebration concludes with the first Eucharist of Easter, where the Risen Lord continues to feed his people with the hope that banishes whatever fears that we might bring to this moment. 

For the worldwide Church in 2020, we celebrate an Easter like no other.  Literally separated physically from our communities of faith by the pandemic that has gripped our world, we nevertheless share in a spiritual solidarity one with another as the Mystical Body of Christ where nothing can separate us from the love of God that comes to us in our Risen Savior. 

And so, on this Easter, the words of Jesus in this evening’s Gospel take on renewed meaning as we face the challenge that is now before us:  Do not be afraid.  I am with you always until the end of time.  Alleluia! 

Reflection for Good Friday

“Save us, Savior of the world, for by your Cross and Resurrection you have set us free.” My brothers and sisters our Eucharistic Acclamation, silenced on this singular day in the Church’s year of grace when the Eucharist is not celebrated, captures the heart of the mystery of our faith. 

Through the paschal journey of the one who emptied himself to become one like us in all things but sin, the Lord Jesus has embraced even the human reality of death itself as he fulfilled the Father’s plan to draw all things to himself in his love. 

Outside of this utterly unique moment of pandemic, we would normally gather in our churches, with altars stripped bare, the abiding Eucharistic presence of the Lord removed, sacred images taken away - leaving only one that rivets our minds and hearts to the profound mystery of a limitless love - the image of the cross. 

Our Passion Proclamation this Good Friday is that which has been proclaimed on this solemn day from the earliest days of the Church - from the Gospel of John. A Passion narrative that proclaims not a victim but a victor who, with courage, embraces his destiny for the life of the world. 

In liturgical celebrations, the simple wooden cross will be lovingly borne into our churches, held high as the trophy for all those for whom the darkness of this world has been vanquished by the light and life of our victorious Savior. That cross has now become the sign of our victory with Christ over the power of sin and death. For this is the word of the cross, on which hung the savior of the world.

As we in spirit venerate the wood of the cross, let us bring to that symbol of triumph, the challenges and difficulties, the pains and anxieties, the worries and sufferings of all those whom we both know and love as well as all those who suffer within the human family alone or abandoned, especially those who have died alone in this worldwide pandemic. May they come to know the power and freedom of Him whose unconditional love is boundless and whose mercy is without end. Come, let us worship. 

Reflection for Holy Thursday

It has been said that the words of those who see the face death are ones that carry special truth. Perhaps that is the reason why The Gift of Peace: Personal Reflections by Joseph Cardinal Bernardin , completed just thirteen days before he died on November 14, 1996,  has been treasured by its readers.  In the preface to his book, Cardinal Bernardin invites those who read his book to walk with him the final miles of his life’s journey. The diagnosis of terminal pancreatic cancer provided the unique opportunity for him to speak with special urgency of the precious gift of reconciliation and peace and how his own life as a man of the Gospel, a priest and shepherd of God’s people has been at the service of these important realities in our world and church today. 

In the final chapter of his book, Cardinal Bernardin writes: 

What I would like to leave behind is a simple prayer that each of you may find what I have found - God’s special gift to us all: the gift of peace. When we are at peace, we find the freedom to be most fully who we are, even in the worst of times. We let go of what is nonessential and embrace what is essential. We empty ourselves so that God may more fully work within us. And we become instruments in the hands of the Lord. 

Each of us in our own special way longs to leave a legacy, to leave behind a gift to others that will hopefully make a difference and be a lasting remembrance of our lives on earth. 

My brothers and sisters, tonight our thoughts go to remembering and celebrating the parting gift and the lasting legacy that the Lord Jesus left us as he prepared to embrace the face of death in, paradoxically, the City of Peace - Jerusalem. In God’s Word for Holy Thursday we hear the great story of God’s continuing desire to bring freedom to those victimized by the chaos of this world. For it was into this world of broken promises, alienation and lives torn by hatred and dissension that Jesus came to bring a new commandment, “to love one another as I have love you”. 

Tonight, the Church in its great act of thanksgiving calls us to remember the three parting gifts that the Lord gives to us who have come to know Him as the Way, the Truth and the Life. We remember the gift of the Eucharist, the gift of the priesthood, and a new commandment to love one another. 

Our lives are ultimately shaped by the relationships that feed us. No wonder then that on the night before the Lord would himself pass over the waters of death, he gave to his disciples the gift of himself as food - bread of life and the cup of eternal salvation. For 2000 years, it is the Eucharist, that has shaped our identity as followers of the Way. The Eucharist is the anchor of our faith and a perpetual sign that we are loved unto death by the one who gave his all for each of us. 

Tonight, we remember the continuing presence of the Servant Jesus who calls others to be good shepherds in his name. The gift of the ministerial priesthood continues the presence of Jesus who came not to be served but to give his life in service to others. Called from among the people of God, the greatest privilege of every priest is to be a bearer of mystery to God’s Holy People - the mystery of new life through the waters of baptism, the mystery of healing and reconciliation in the sacrament of penance, the mystery of comfort and consolation in anointing of the sick, but most of all, the mystery of bread broken and cup share through his own life lived Eucharistically. 

For each priest is reminded on the day of his ordination: ...Imitate the mystery you celebrate: model your life on the mystery of the Lord’s cross. My brothers and sisters, pray for your priests that we might always be faithful stewards of this ministry of service entrusted to us. 

And finally, tonight we remember and celebrate the mandantum novum - the new commandment “to love one another”. In a world saturated with cynicism, enmeshed in cycles of violence and recrimination, torn by prejudice; where power, control and manipulation of others can so often be a way of life for many - this new commandment may come as a shock to a world exploited by selfishness. The dramatic power of this new commandment is normally ritualized in this liturgy as the shepherd among us kneels in humility before his people, washes their feet in imitation of him who has given us this new way of life. As members of the Body of Christ, we need to hear and take to heart this message- this new commandment - perhaps now more ever. While dissension and discord have always been a sad dimension of the all too human face of the Church, in this utterly unique moment of pandemic, it must be our loving solidarity as brothers and sisters in Christ, our charity for one another, that must be the distinctive hallmark of our lives. If not, then we run the risk of never being able to speak with credibility the message of him whose name we bear. The words of the father of modern India, Mahatma Gandhi, must challenge us to an ongoing examination of our collective consciences when he said, “There would be a lot more Christians, if you Christians were a lot more like your Christ.” 

And so, as we enter into the mystery of the Lord’s death and resurrection in the Sacred Triduum that has begun, may we embrace the living legacy that the Lord left to us the night before he died. May our sharing in the Eucharist continue to shape our minds and hearts so that we might indeed become more like Christ, our Teacher and Lord. And may our solidarity be grounded in compassion and forgiveness, in charity and love - for where charity and love are found, there is God. 

Reflection for Wednesday of Holy Week

“What are you willing to give me
if I hand him over to you?”
They paid him thirty pieces of silver,
and from that time on he looked for an opportunity to hand him over. 

Tradition names this day, ‘spy Wednesday,’ for obvious reasons.  John’s narrative from yesterday is taken up by Matthew’s Gospel that speaks of the betrayal of the Lord at the hands of Judas Iscariot in greater detail.  Tradition has it that Matthew was a tax collector and so with a tax collector’s exactitude, thirty pieces of silver are recorded as the price that would be paid for Jesus. 

Down through the centuries understandable opprobrium has been heaped on Judas the betrayer.  Tragically, scripture remembers his ultimate despair of God’s mercy as he hangs himself in utter desolation and darkness. 

We will never know if, at the last second of his life, Judas reached out for forgiveness and mercy.  We will have to wait until heaven to know that. 

Rather than pointing the finger of self-righteous blame at Judas, perhaps it would be better to point that finger at ourselves when, in our own life’s history, we have so easily forgotten our first love and betrayed the Lord of our life.  It is a humbling reality that we should keep before us always, that there is a small piece of Judas in all of us.  And, with that recognition, how appropriate it is that our lips should often utter in humility: Lord, be merciful to me a sinner.