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.

Reflection for Tuesday of Holy Week

So Judas took the morsel and left at once. And it was night. 

The Gospel narratives during the first three days of Holy Week set the scene for the unfolding of the great mission in cross and resurrection to unfold through Jesus the Christ. 

Once again, the Church’s liturgy turns to the Gospel of John that incisively not only tells the story of these days but more importantly, opens up their meaning in the unfolding of salvation’s history. 

We are invited today into the final meal that the Lord will share with his closest companions.  Scholars tell us that this meal was most probably the great Passover celebration that stands at the heart of the Jewish liturgical year. 

The enigmatic Judas is introduced into the Passion narrative this day. With divine foreknowledge, the Lord was aware already of the duplicity of his heart.  The author of John’s gospel knows the power of symbol, no wonder then he ends this narrative with one of the shortest sentences in scripture: And it was night.  Judas departs from the light of Jesus’s presence into the darkness to eventually betray the son of man with the powerful symbol of affection and love, a kiss.  And it was night. 

With the approaching three sacred days upon which pivot our entire liturgical year, the Sacred Triduum, we are invited into the light and grace of these days – no matter what darkness we might personally be wrestling with.  For the faithful Christian, night will always give way to the bright promise of immortality.

Reflection for Monday of Holy Week

Here is my servant whom I uphold,
my chosen one with whom I am pleased,
Upon whom I have put my Spirit; 

One of the beautiful titles that is given to Jesus is ‘the suffering servant’ inspired by the prophetic writing of Isaiah.  In Christian theology, Jesus in embracing our humanity, embraced suffering, not as an end in itself but a means by which he would fulfill his mission, entrusted to him by the Father, bringing about the liberation and transformation of the world. 

There is an inherent mystery to all human suffering.  We rail against it and often, understandably see in it a roadblock to our belief in a God who is good and loving.  We hear it in such comments:  How could a good and loving God permit the slaughter of innocent children in Sandy Hook?  How could a good and loving God permit the Holocaust?  How could a good a loving God permit a pandemic killing hundreds of thousands of people? 

Theologians and philosophers have pondered the question of evil and suffering down through the centuries.  Frankly, I have found there ‘explanations’ of little use as I sit quietly at the side of grieving parents who have lost their child to cancer. 

Yet, it is precisely at moments of suffering that has no logical rationale that the Lord asks us to trust that, from God’s perspective of eternity, all will be well.  In the end, the suffering servant beckons us to let his own words on the cross, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” be transformed into, “Into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Reflection for Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion

“Hosanna to the Son of David;
blessed is the he who comes in the name of the Lord;
hosanna in the highest.” 

“Then what shall I do with Jesus called Christ?”
They all said,
“Let him be crucified!”
But he said,
“Why? What evil has he done?”
They only shouted the louder,
“Let him be crucified!” 

Sisters and Brothers, as we mark and celebrate the beginning of the holiest week in the Christian calendar, it will be celebrated like none other in our lifetime.  The pandemic that is gripping our world and nation forces us to celebrate this week in isolation and apart from one another.  Through the miracle of modern technology and social media, we do indeed have the opportunity to celebrate the liturgies of this week via live-stream. However, this is a far cry from what makes for liturgy in the most authentic manner – the gathering together of the Body of Christ in praise and thanksgiving. 

Yet, we must never forget that at the heart and center of all our liturgical experiences lies the precious gift of remembering.  On the eve of his passion and death, the Lord spoke those memorable words:  Do this in memory of me.  Hence, all liturgy is fundamentally the act of entering into the great remembrance of the Lord’s saving actions that transcend time and place. 

And so, today, we remember his triumphal entry into the holy city of Jerusalem, greeted by the exaltation of the people, hailing the Son of David with Hosannas.  How fickle human nature can be, for in less than a week, those Hosannas will turn to shouts of “Let him be crucified!”  Humanity’s unfaithfulness to the one who loved us into existence is sadly witnessed in repeated acts of darkness and sin down through the centuries.  Yet, in the face of our unfaithfulness, God’s faithfulness is everlasting.   

This week, we remember that faithfulness in bread broken and cup shared on Holy Thursday that commemorates the Lord’s greatest gift to us in the Eucharist. 

On Good Friday, we remember that faithfulness unto death as Jesus speaks forgiveness to his persecutors and promises paradise to the thief who dies at his side. 

On Holy Saturday, we remember that faithfulness in the silence of the tomb as we await in hopeful expectation his great promise. 

On Easter, we remember that promise that death gives way to eternal life in Resurrection.   

Though physically separated, we are nevertheless united in remembering God’s great acts of love this week. For that, we give God thanks.

Reflection for Saturday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Now the Passover of the Jews was near,
and many went up from the country to Jerusalem
before Passover to purify themselves. 

Tomorrow we mark and celebrate the holiest week in the Christian calendars with the celebration of Palm Sunday.  The Gospel of John has the disciples poised to ‘go up’ to Jerusalem for the Passover celebration. 

The scriptures speak of ‘going up’ to Jerusalem because geographically, Jerusalem was physically on a higher altitude than the surrounding countryside.  And so, it was not only a metaphor for going to a ‘high place’ to encounter the Holy One, but was a literal ascent. 

While the Gospels do not give us exact dates and times for when the Lord’s culmination of his earthly mission took place, scholars have juxtaposed that pivotal moment in Salvation History to the Passover celebration of the Jewish people. 

The great moment of liberation for the Jewish people took place when the Lord freed them from bondage in Egypt and led them to settle in the promised land.  For the pious Jew, that still point moment in their history is recalled ritually and liturgically in the Passover celebration.  Through ritual foods, gestures and gatherings around a common table, the great story of their liberation is not only recalled but in a mysterious way, they remember the God who continues to free them in every time and place. 

How appropriate that the great Christian Passover that remembers and celebrates the death and Resurrection of Jesus should be in continuity with the event that prefigured this definitive moment of liberation for the human family.  

Lord, by your cross and Resurrection you have set us free.  You are the Savior of the world!

Reflection for Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent

The Jews answered him,
“We are not stoning you for a good work but for blasphemy.
You, a man, are making yourself God. 

The Gospel of John becomes the central narrative during these final days of our Lenten journey.  As Jesus nears the culmination of his life’s mission in Jerusalem, “the Jews” more and more are portrayed as his primary detractors. 

Sadly, down through the centuries, many of these passages became the pretext for the cancer of anti-Semitism to metastasize among the people of God.  From the expulsion of the Jewish people from Spain in 1492, to the relegating of the Jews into Ghettos in Rome and other European cities, the charge of ‘God-killers’ became the pretext for such horrific actions. 

Anti-Semitism at the hands of Christians reached its horrific intensity with the Holocaust in Nazi Germany. Substantially a ‘Christian’ country, the cancer of anti-Semitism grew in Germany because so many good people refused to confront its ugliness and, hence, quietly acquiesced and were complicit in this scare on humanity. 

The Second Vatican Council spoke truthfully of the Christian Church’s historic complicity in the sin of anti-Semitism and formally declared that the Jewish people as a whole are not guilty of deicide.  It spoke affirming that the covenant that God made with the Jewish people was not abrogated or done away with but continues to this day. 

St. John Paul II throughout the whole course of his lengthy pontificate witnessed to this fraternal and loving attitude toward ‘our Jewish sisters and brothers.’  And affirming that we are all children of a loving God. This is a beautiful affirmation that has continued in both the pontificates of Pope Benedict and Pope Francis. 

When we hear such language in John’s Gospel, let us realize with renewed clarity that John was speaking of the contemporary religious elite whose self-perceived importance and hubris did not permit the transforming power of God’s grace to liberate and make new.  May we never follow in their footsteps.

Reflection for Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Jesus said to them, “Amen, amen, I say to you,
before Abraham came to be, I AM.” 

What’s in a name?  More than we would suspect.  I think all of us know from our own personal experience how important our own name is.  Our parents invariably expended a great deal of loving thought in giving us the name that we bear and cherish.  A name not only identifies us as a unique individual but it ties it generationally to those ancestors who have preceded us. 

It is no wonder, then, that we understandably respect those who value the importance of our name to remember it and honor it.  We are far more responsive to folks who call us by name rather than the ‘hey you’ that we sometimes hear.  It is a sign of respect for the inherent dignity that we bear as a person to remember and call another by name. 

In God’s Holy Word today, the Lord calls Abram by name.  So important was this call and the mission that he was to entrust him, that the Lord would change his name to “Abraham,” which means, the father of many nations.  The Lord called him to a unique and irrevocable covenant or bond that continues to this day with his descendants, the Jewish people. 

Jesus startles his contemporaries while honoring the great Patriarch, Abraham, startlingly proclaims to his hearers that before Abraham came to be, I AM.  Jesus once again uses the sacred name of God to refer to himself – I AM.  For those unwilling to accept the Word made flesh, such an assertion was utter blasphemy.  But for those who are enlightened by faith, they are promised to never see death. 

In these challenging times, despair gives way to hope in the great I AM who is there to love us into eternity.

Reflection for Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

So if the Son frees you, then you will truly be free. 

I grew up in Granada Hills, a suburb in the San Fernando Valley that blossomed in the post-World War II boom years.  Upon my ordination in 1974, I was assigned to Orange County and hence, on my weekly day off, would make the trek home often taking a route on the freeway where I could see downtown Los Angeles.  Often, I would make the drive on Wednesday night to avoid the traffic and I would spy an old building with its neon-sign for all to see. It blinked Jesus Saves! 

In all its evangelical fervor, that statement unabashedly captured the essence of the good news that we Christians have lived and died for, for nearly 2000 years.  Jesus, my friends, does indeed save us from everything that would ultimately rob us of the freedom that God wants for each of us. 

While few of us experience the deprivations that can come when our physical freedoms are taken from us, yet, so many in our society today live lives that our bound in slavery to addictions, unrelenting fear, anger and hatred, jealousies and resentments.   

The good news of Jesus Christ remains a clarion call down through the centuries to experience the freedom that can come when love and forgiveness overcomes hatred, unresolved anger and the festering of resentments in our hearts. 

We need only set our eyes on Christ on the Cross, who in this moment of desolation uttered words of forgiveness: Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do. 

Jesus Saves!  May we embrace the saving cross that leads to freedom in His unfailing love.

Reflection for Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent

So Jesus said to them,
“When you lift up the Son of Man,
then you will realize that I AM… 

When I was a young boy, I remember my father taking the family to the Pantages Theater in Hollywood to see Cecil B. DeMill’s great epic movie, The Ten Commandments.  I was completely mesmerized by it, especially the scene when Moses went up the great mountain and encountered that mysterious burning bush. 

That scene in all its 1950 kitsch, dramatized one of the most pivotal moments in the history of the Jewish people.  The God of all creation would reveal himself by name.  After the Lord commissioned Moses to tell his people that he would free them from bondage, Moses was bold to ask, “And whom should I say sent me?” The Lord responded, “I AM, who AM.”  Libraries could be filled with books pondering the meaning of that name down through the centuries.   So sacred was that name, that when it was written in the Torah, the Hebrew Scriptures, it would never be spoken by a pious Jew.  Another word, “Adonai” or “Lord” would be used in its place. 

As our Lenten journey nears its culmination with Passion Sunday and our remembrance of the Lord’s triumphal entrance into Jerusalem this Sunday, John’s gospel takes center stage as it does today.  John’s gospel was the final of the four gospels to be written.  It is rich in theological content as it focuses on the meaning of Christ for the world. 

Today, John has Jesus utter that very sacred name of God himself as he says: When you lift up the Son of Man, then you will realize that I AM… For St. John, Christ was the Word that existed with the Father before all ages.  His theology of Christ focuses a laser beam on divinity, while the other gospels so often highlight the humanity of Jesus. 

Jesus, the God-man, nears the definitive moment of his gifting the human family with the Father’s ultimate gift of redemption in the cross and resurrection.  We adore you, O Christ, and we bless you.  Because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.

Reflection for Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Offspring of Canaan, not of Judah, beauty has seduced you,
lust has subverted your conscience. 

Today, the church in her Lenten daily readings, sets before us a story in Sacred Scripture taken from what we Catholics call the ‘Deutero-canonical’ Book of Daniel and Protestants refer to as the ‘Apocrapha,’ since they do not view this section of Scripture as directly inspired by God.   It is a story that sadly narrates the power of lust to subvert one’s conscience and blind one to the searing goodness of the truth.  The story in all it’s alluring power, fit for Netflix, will be found in the 13th chapter of Daniel.  Read it! 

This powerful story speaks of the inviolability of truth over fake news that is often perpetrated in order to satisfy one’s own petty, foolish and, at times, lustful personal ends.  There is nothing new in this story.  As the French would say, The more things change, the more they remain the same. 

As “People of the Book” – that beautiful phrase that defines the identity of both Jews and Christians who revere God’s revealed truth in the Scriptures – the truth of God’s word and the integrity to which it calls us, defines the very character of what it means to be a Christian.

Reflection for the Fifth Sunday of Lent

And Jesus wept. 

A beautiful tradition among newly ordained priests is to have personalized holy cards prepared to commemorate the date of their ordination and first mass.  I will always remember one of those cards that I received while still in the seminary.  The quote that accompanied a colorful graphic on the front was simply: Friendship doubles our joy and divides our grief! 

How true that saying is for us who have discovered and cherished the gift of friendship in our lives.  There is probably no other relationship other than the ties of family that can bring such joy to our lives.  True friendship is a gift both given and received and it is out of friendship that the reality of empathy can so beautifully be experienced. 

Empathy is the ability to ‘feel’ what another feels.  While we can indeed have empathy for those whom we perhaps do not know personally, empathy in the broadest, deepest and most expansive meaning of that term, flourishes among good friends.  True friends relish and celebrate the good fortune and blessings of their friends, as well as the experiences of heart-ache and sorrow that they experience. 

Marriages that fails to build upon friendship can easily be drained of one of the most important elements that enable them to flourish and grow – empathy. 

Sometimes in our idealization of Jesus as the Son of God, we fail to appreciate that as a true human being, he relished the gift of friendship.  While that was undoubtedly experienced among his closest companions on the journey, the Apostles, he also cherished ‘special’ friends as we see reflected in the Scriptures.  Lazarus and his sisters, Martha and Mary were such special friends. 

No wonder, then, that in the gospel of John, the shortest verse in all of Sacred Scripture is one that expresses the Lord’s empathy on seeing his dear friend, now in the tomb – And Jesus wept.  Yet, as this profoundly beautiful and important story would go on to tell, Jesus as a dear and loving friend, would not let death have the final word in the life-story of Lazarus.  Moved by the deepest of human emotions, Jesus commands that the stone be rolled back and he utters his unforgettable and life-changing words:  Untie him and let him go! 

Lazarus steps forth to bask again in the glory of the light of friendship with Jesus and his sisters, Martha and Mary. 

Every Lenten journey is an invitation to celebrate with renewed sincerity and commitment our friendship with Jesus and to be forever mindful and grateful for his friendship with us.  For, it is that relationship that truly doubles our joy and divides our grief.

Embracing hope

On Friday evening, our Holy Father, Pope Francis, in an extraordinary moment, virtually alone in the vastness of St. Peter’s square, prayed for our fragile and fearing world as we face this pandemic. His inspiring words spoken that evening are presented here as a comfort in this challenging time:

When evening had come” (Mk 4:35). The Gospel passage we have just heard begins like this. For weeks now it has been evening. Thick darkness has gathered over our squares, our streets, and our cities; it has taken over our lives, filling everything with a deafening silence and a distressing void, that stops everything as it passes by; we feel it in the air, we notice in people’s gestures, their glances give them away. We find ourselves afraid and lost. Like the disciples in the Gospel, we were caught off guard by an unexpected, turbulent storm. We have realized that we are on the same boat, all of us fragile and disoriented, but at the same time important and needed, all of us called to row together, each of us in need of comforting the other.

On this boat… are all of us. Just like those disciples, who spoke anxiously with one voice, saying “We are perishing” (v. 38), so we too have realized that we cannot go on thinking of ourselves, but only together can we do this. It is easy to recognize ourselves in this story. What is harder to understand is Jesus’ attitude. While his disciples are quite naturally alarmed and desperate, he stands in the stern, in the part of the boat that sinks first. And what does he do? In spite of the tempest, he sleeps on soundly, trusting in the Father; this is the only time in the Gospels we see Jesus sleeping. When he wakes up, after calming the wind and the waters, he turns to the disciples in a reproaching voice: “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” (v. 40).

Let us try to understand. In what does the lack of the disciples’ faith consist, as contrasted with Jesus’ trust? They had not stopped believing in him; in fact, they called on him. But we see how they call on him: “Teacher, do you not care if we perish?” (v. 38). Do you not care: they think that Jesus is not interested in them, does not care about them. One of the things that hurts us and our families most when we hear it said is: “Do you not care about me?” It is a phrase that wounds and unleashes storms in our hearts. It would have shaken Jesus too. Because he, more than anyone, cares about us. Indeed, once they have called on him, he saves his disciples from their discouragement.

The storm exposes our vulnerability and uncovers those false and superfluous certainties around which we have constructed our daily schedules, our projects, our habits, and priorities. It shows us how we have allowed to become dull and feeble the very things that nourish, sustain and strengthen our lives and our communities. The tempest lays bare all our prepackaged ideas and forgetfulness of what nourishes our people’s souls; all those attempts that anesthetize us with ways of thinking and acting that supposedly “save” us, but instead prove incapable of putting us in touch with our roots and keeping alive the memory of those who have gone before us. We deprive ourselves of the antibodies we need to confront adversity.

In this storm, the façade of those stereotypes with which we camouflaged our egos, always worrying about our image, has fallen away, uncovering once more that (blessed) common belonging, of which we cannot be deprived: our belonging as brothers and sisters. “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, your word this evening strikes us and regards us, all of us. In this world, that you love more than we do, we have gone ahead at breakneck speed, feeling powerful and able to do anything. Greedy for profit, we let ourselves get caught up in things, and lured away by haste. We did not stop at your reproach to us, we were not shaken awake by wars or injustice across the world, nor did we listen to the cry of the poor or of our ailing planet. We carried on regardless, thinking we would stay healthy in a world that was sick. Now that we are in a stormy sea, we implore you: “Wake up, Lord!”. “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith?” Lord, you are calling to us, calling us to faith. Which is not so much believing that you exist, but coming to you and trusting in you. This Lent your call reverberates urgently: “Be converted!”, “Return to me with all your heart” (Joel 2:12). You are calling on us to seize this time of trial as a time of choosing. It is not the time of your judgment, but of our judgment: a time to choose what matters and what passes away, a time to separate what is necessary from what is not. It is a time to get our lives back on track with regard to you, Lord, and to others.

We can look to so many exemplary companions for the journey, who, even though fearful, have reacted by giving their lives. This is the force of the Spirit poured out and fashioned in courageous and generous self-denial. It is the life in the Spirit that can redeem, value and demonstrate how our lives are woven together and sustained by ordinary people – often forgotten people – who do not appear in newspaper and magazine headlines nor on the grand catwalks of the latest show, but who without any doubt are in these very days writing the decisive events of our time: doctors, nurses, supermarket employees, cleaners, caregivers, providers of transport, law and order forces, volunteers, priests, religious men and women and so very many others who have understood that no one reaches salvation by themselves. In the face of so much suffering, where the authentic development of our peoples is assessed, we experience the priestly prayer of Jesus: “That they may all be one” (Jn 17:21). How many people every day are exercising patience and offering hope, taking care to sow not panic but a shared responsibility.

How many fathers, mothers, grandparents, and teachers are showing our children, in small everyday gestures, how to face up to and navigate a crisis by adjusting their routines, lifting their gaze and fostering prayer. How many are praying, offering and interceding for the good of all. Prayer and quiet service: these are our victorious weapons. “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith”? Faith begins when we realize we are in need of salvation. We are not self-sufficient; by ourselves, we founder: we need the Lord like ancient navigators needed the stars. Let us invite Jesus into the boats of our lives. Let us hand over our fears to him so that he can conquer them. Like the disciples, we will experience that with him on board there will be no shipwreck. Because this is God’s strength: turning to the good everything that happens to us, even the bad things. He brings serenity into our storms, because with God life never dies.

The Lord asks us and, in the midst of our tempest, invites us to reawaken and put into practice that solidarity and hope capable of giving strength, support, and meaning to these hours when everything seems to be floundering. The Lord awakens so as to reawaken and revive our Easter faith. We have an anchor: by his cross, we have been saved. We have a rudder: by his cross, we have been redeemed. We have hope: by his cross, we have been healed and embraced so that nothing and no one can separate us from his redeeming love. In the midst of isolation when we are suffering from a lack of tenderness and chances to meet up, and we experience the loss of so many things, let us once again listen to the proclamation that saves us: he is risen and is living by our side. The Lord asks us from his cross to rediscover the life that awaits us, to look towards those who look to us, to strengthen, recognize and foster the grace that lives within us.

Let us not quench the wavering flame (cf. Is 42:3) that never falters, and let us allow hope to be rekindled. Embracing his cross means finding the courage to embrace all the hardships of the present time, abandoning for a moment our eagerness for power and possessions in order to make room for the creativity that only the Spirit is capable of inspiring. It means finding the courage to create spaces where everyone can recognize that they are called, and to allow new forms of hospitality, fraternity, and solidarity. By his cross, we have been saved in order to embrace hope and let it strengthen and sustain all measures and all possible avenues for helping us protect ourselves and others. Embracing the Lord in order to embrace hope: that is the strength of faith, which frees us from fear and gives us hope. “Why are you afraid? Have you no faith”?

Dear brothers and sisters, from this place that tells of Peter’s rock-solid faith, I would like this evening to entrust all of you to the Lord, through the intercession of Mary, Health of the People and Star of the stormy Sea. From this colonnade that embraces Rome and the whole world, may God’s blessing come down upon you as a consoling embrace. Lord, may you bless the world, give health to our bodies and comfort our hearts. You ask us not to be afraid. Yet our faith is weak and we are fearful. But you, Lord, will not leave us at the mercy of the storm. Tell us again: “Do not be afraid” (Mt 28:5). And we, together with Peter, “cast all our anxieties onto you, for you care about us” (cf. 1 Pet 5:7).

Reflection for Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent

So a division occurred in the crowd because of him.
Some of them even wanted to arrest him,
but no one laid hands on him. 

Since the dawn of Christianity there have been controversy and division over the meaning of the person who stands at the center of the Christian faith – Jesus Christ.  One of the early heresies of the Church argued that Jesus, as good and wonderful as he was, was merely a human being.  On the other hand, an equally pernicious heresy of the time said that while Jesus may have ‘appeared’ to be human in the scriptures, he was completely God with no trace of humanity. 

The orthodox teaching of the Church that emerged in the foundational creedal formulas that we hold to, to this day, unambiguously stated that Jesus was and is, ‘true God and true man’ in a union with his Father that – and here we borrow a venerable Greek word that was then translated into Latin, ‘consubstantial.’ 

As controversies raged down through the centuries over the true identity of Christ, ultimately, each one of us at some moment in our life must respond to that question posed to by Jesus himself to his followers, “And you, who do you say that I am?” 

As Easter nears, may these days of Lent, daily deepen our conviction so that we can say with Peter, “You are the Christ, the son of the living God.”