Sunday, April 28, 2024

Cuatro Consuelos del Espiritu Santo

 Homilía: 5º Domingo en la Pascua – Ciclo B

         Al final de la primera lectura de hoy, después de escuchar acerca del regreso de Pablo a Jerusalén como seguidor de Cristo (y el drama que siguió), Lucas escribió que “las comunidades cristianas gozaban de paz en toda Judea, Galilea y Samaria… y se multiplicaban, animadas por el Espíritu Santo”. Esta frase, “animadas por Espíritu Santo”, se puede traducir también como “con el consuelo del Espíritu Santo”.  Esta me llamó la atención y me pregunté: “¿A qué se estará refiriendo esto?” y “¿Cómo sería esta animación o este consuelo?” Me propuse encontrar respuestas a estas preguntas.

         Encontré una respuesta en un artículo de la autora Jeannie Ewing, en el que destacó cuatro “consuelos del Espíritu Santo” que extrajo del libro del arzobispo Luis Martínez, Verdadera Devoción al Espíritu Santo. Descubrí que cada uno de estos cuatro “consuelos” tiene algo que decir para describir la vida de la iglesia primitiva (y por qué “se multiplicaban” a través de ellos), así como la vida de la iglesia, aquí y ahora. Estos consuelos son: el Consuelo de la Libertad, el Consuelo de la Unión, el Consuelo de la Esperanza y el Consuelo del Dolor. Entonces, echemos un vistazo a cada uno de estos.

         El consuelo de la libertad. Ciertamente me parece que, en la iglesia primitiva, este consuelo fue una fuerza impulsora de su multiplicación. Después de escuchar las buenas nuevas de Jesucristo, los hombres y mujeres que llegaron a creer ya no se sintieron encadenados: ni por el miedo a sus ocupantes romanos ni por el miedo a la élite religiosa. Más bien, habiendo abrazado la verdad de Cristo y su redención, fueron liberados y proclamaron con valentía el nombre de Jesús en todas partes: llegando incluso a vender sus propiedades y vivir en comunidad para experimentar la plena libertad de vivir en Cristo. Este consuelo del Espíritu atrajo a muchos que deseaban experimentar la misma libertad.

         Para nosotros este consuelo es necesario para vivir plenamente nuestra vida como cristianos y las vocaciones a las que hemos sido llamados. La libertad es esencial para vivir nuestra vocación. Si perdemos este consuelo—es decir, si empezamos a sentirnos encadenados por la vocación que una vez elegimos libremente—perderemos la fecundidad de nuestro testimonio, que es la alegría. Sin esta fecundidad, otros que buscan el consuelo de la libertad creerán que no se puede encontrar en una vida dedicada a Dios y por eso buscarán en otra parte. Así, el consuelo de la libertad se manifiesta en la confianza radical en Dios al vivir cada vocación: una confianza que demuestra que la salvación en Cristo es lo único a lo que vale la pena aferrarse en el mundo.

         El consuelo de la unión. En la iglesia primitiva, este consuelo era otro factor que atraía a la gente hacia ellos. Para los miembros, el consuelo de la unión era un signo de seguridad: la unidad de los creyentes era un refugio contra las tribulaciones del mundo y una fuente de fortaleza dentro de ellos. Fue también un signo más de la gracia divina. Los creyentes y los que se convirtieron se sintieron atraídos por el hecho de que no había divisiones entre ellos (como entre los fariseos y los saduceos, por ejemplo). Así, el consuelo de la unión fortaleció a los creyentes, al mismo tiempo que atraía a otros a la fe.

         Para nosotros hoy, no se me ocurre ningún consuelo que pueda ser más necesario. En el mundo, la polarización y la desunión parecen ser la moda del día. Sin embargo, fundamentalmente, el corazón humano anhela ser visto, conocido y aceptado (o, es decir, en unión con otros). Así, donde la desunión marca el día, se necesita el consuelo de la unión para devolver al corazón humano lo que más verdaderamente necesita. Por eso, cuando buscamos recibir y vivir el consuelo de la unión, no sólo daremos testimonio de Dios, que es la unión misma, sino que seremos signo y fuente para los demás de la unión que sus corazones desean.

         El consuelo de la esperanza. En la iglesia primitiva, este consuelo les dio fuerza para perseverar a través de las muchas pruebas que les sobrevendrían. Esto se debe a que la verdadera esperanza—es decir, la esperanza sobrenatural—es mucho más que un “buen sentimiento” sobre el futuro, sino más bien una convicción de que lo que se anhela se realizará. Por lo tanto, incluso cuando el Evangelio fue rechazado y estallaron las persecuciones (pensemos en el martirio de Esteban), el consuelo de la esperanza fortaleció a la iglesia primitiva para perseverar. Esa perseverancia fue un testimonio para los demás de que había algo diferente y auténtico en su esperanza, así como en el objeto de su esperanza.

         Para nosotros hoy, este consuelo de la esperanza tiene el mismo papel. Cuando permitimos que este consuelo del Espíritu nos infunda, somos fortalecidos para perseverar en el esfuerzo de construir el reino de los cielos—el objeto de nuestra esperanza—a pesar de que el mundo parece cada vez más decidido a derribarlo. La victoria de Jesús sobre la muerte en la Resurrección es la razón de nuestra esperanza. El consuelo de la esperanza es nuestra fuerza para vivir en esta esperanza.

         El consuelo del dolor. En la iglesia primitiva, vemos que los discípulos encontraron un gran consuelo espiritual al sufrir por el nombre de Jesús. Esto, por supuesto, suena absurdo para la mayoría, pero, al haber sido testigo de que fue precisamente a través del sufrimiento que nuestro Señor Jesús produjo la salvación, la iglesia se dio cuenta de que seguir el camino del Señor conduciría al sufrimiento y que su sufrimiento sería una participación en la obra redentora de los sufrimientos de Cristo. Así encontraron consuelo en su dolor y, al testimoniarlo, atrajeron a otros hacia ellos.

         Para nosotros hoy es primordial dar testimonio de este consuelo. El dolor es una parte inevitable de la vida. En otras palabras, el dolor/sufrimiento es literalmente la experiencia humana más común. El consuelo del dolor, por lo tanto (es decir, el consuelo de saber que nuestro dolor es una participación en el dolor redentor de Cristo en la Cruz) es un testimonio necesario para los demás de que (contrariamente al mito moderno) el dolor no debe ser evitar a toda costa, sino abrazarlo pacientemente (es decir, cuando no se puede evitar) para continuar la obra redentora de Cristo en el mundo. Éste es el significado del dolor que todo aquel que lo experimenta busca encontrar. Cuando abrazamos el consuelo del dolor, permitimos que otros vislumbren el consuelo que anhelan sus corazones. ///

         Queridos hermanos y hermanas, la “animación”, o el “consuelo del Espíritu Santo”, permanece hoy con nosotros. Mientras miramos más atentamente hacia Pentecostés y la celebración de la plena manifestación del Espíritu en la iglesia, busquemos abrazar estos cuatro consuelos del Espíritu Santo—libertad, unión, esperanza y dolor—según nuestra vocación, para que podríamos disfrutar de la misma paz que experimentó la iglesia primitiva y estar preparados para entrar plenamente en el reino de los cielos cuando nuestro Señor—a quien encontramos en esta Eucaristía—regrese en gloria.

Dado en la parroquia de San Patricio: Kokomo, IN – 28 de abril, 2024

Four Consolations of the Holy Spirit

 Homily: 5th Sunday in Easter – Cycle B

         Dear Sisters, I have to admit that once I read this week’s Gospel reading and began to consider what the Lord might be asking me to say in this homily, my first thought was, “Really?  ‘Remain in me, as I remain in you’… This is like, your life!  Easy enough for me to preach to our friends in the parishes about the need to ‘remain’ in Christ, since their involvement with the world can so easily pull them away from it.  But you, you all have stepped out of the world with the specific intention to ‘remain in Christ’ always.  What am I going to say to you about this that you don’t already know?”

         My solution is that I’m NOT going to say anything specific about this passage.  I imagine that you refer to this regularly as you consider your contemplative life and that these words of Christ are a regular “centering” exercise for you to ensure that you do not lose focus on the primary work of your life in the cloister.  Rather, I believe the Lord has moved me to speak about another line from our Scriptures today—one that, perhaps, is easily overlooked—that can be fruitful for reflection in this Easter season.

         At the end of today’s first reading, after hearing about Saul/Paul’s return to Jerusalem as a follower of Christ (and the drama that, thus, ensued), Luke wrote that “the church throughout all Judea, Galilee, and Samaria was at peace… and with the consolation of the Holy Spirit it grew in numbers.”  This phrase, “with the consolation of the Holy Spirit”, stood out to me and I wondered, “What might this be referring to?” and “What might this consolation look like?”  I set myself to find answers to these questions.

         I found an answer in an article by author Jeannie Ewing, in which she highlighted four “consolations of the Holy Spirit” that she extracted from Archbishop LuisMartinez’ book, True Devotion to the Holy Spirit.  I found that each of these four “consolations” have something to say to describe the life of the early church (and why it “grew in numbers” through them) as well as to the life of the church, here and now.  These consolations are: the Consolation of Freedom, the Consolation of Union, the Consolation of Hope, and the Consolation of Pain.  And so, let’s take a look at each of these.

         The Consolation of Freedom.  It certainly seems to me that, in the early church, this consolation was a driving force of its growth.  Having heard the good news of Jesus Christ, the men and women who came to believe no longer felt shackled: neither by fear of their Roman occupiers nor fear of the religious elite.  Rather, having embraced the truth of Christ and his redemption, they were set free and boldly proclaimed the name of Jesus everywhere: even going so far as to sell their property and live communally so as to experience the full freedom of living in Christ.  This consolation of the Spirit attracted many to them who wished to experience the same freedom.

         For us, this consolation is necessary to live fully our lives as Christians and the vocations to which we have been called.  Freedom is essential to living our vocation.  If we lose this consolation—that is, if we start to feel shackled by the vocation that we once freely chose—we will lose the fruitfulness of our witness—which is joy.  Without this fruitfulness, others who are seeking the consolation of freedom will believe that it cannot be found in a life dedicated to God and so turn to seek it elsewhere.  Thus, the consolation of freedom is manifest in radical trust in God as we live each vocation: a trust that demonstrates that salvation in Christ is the only thing worth holding onto in the world.

         The Consolation of Union.  In the early church, this consolation was another factor that drew people to them.  For members, the consolation of union was a sign of security: the unity of believers was a refuge from the tribulations of the world and a source of strength within them.  It was also a further sign of divine grace.  Believers and those who converted were attracted to the fact that there were no divisions among them (like with the Pharisees and Sadducees, for example).  Thus, the consolation of union strengthened the believers, even as it attracted others to the faith.

         For us today, I can’t think of a consolation that might be needed more.  In the world, polarization and disunion seem to be the mode of the day.  Yet, fundamentally, the human heart longs to be seen, known, and accepted.  Thus, where disunion marks the day, the consolation of union is needed to restore to the human heart what it most truly needs.  Therefore, when we seek to receive and live in the consolation of union, not only will we give witness to God, who is union itself, but we will be as sign and a source to others of the union that their hearts desire.

         The Consolation of Hope.  In the early church, this consolation gave them strength to persevere through the many trials that would come to them.  This is because true hope—that is, supernatural hope—is so much more than a “good feeling” about the future, but rather a conviction that what is longed for will be realized.  Thus, even when the Gospel was rejected and persecutions broke out—just think about the martyrdom of Stephen—the consolation of hope strengthened the early church to persevere.  That perseverance was a witness to others that there was something different and authentic about their hope as well as the object of their hope.

         For us today, this consolation of hope has the same role.  When we allow this consolation of the Spirit to infuse us, we are strengthened to persevere in striving to build the kingdom of heaven—the object of our hope—in spite of the fact that the world seems more and more intent on tearing it down.  Jesus’ victory over death in the Resurrection is the reason for our hope.  The consolation of hope is our strength to live in this hope.

         The Consolation of Pain.  In the early church, we see that the disciples found great spiritual consolation in suffering for the name of Jesus.  This, of course, sounds absurd to most, but, having witnessed that it was precisely through suffering that our Lord Jesus brought forth salvation, the church realized that following the way of the Lord would lead to suffering and that their suffering would be a participation in the redeeming work of Christ’s sufferings.  Thus, they found consolation in their pain and, in witnessing to it, drew others to them.

         For us today, giving witness to this consolation is paramount.  Grief is an inevitable part of life.  In other words, pain/suffering is quite literally the most common human experience.  The consolation of pain, therefore, (that is, the consolation of knowing that our pain is a participation in the redemptive pain of Christ on the Cross) is a necessary witness to others that (contrary to the modern myth) pain is not to be avoided at all costs, but rather embraced patiently (when it cannot be avoided) so as to continue Christ’s redemptive work in the world.  This is the meaning in pain that everyone who is experiencing it is looking to find.  When we embrace the consolation of pain, we allow others to glimpse the consolation for which their hearts are longing.

         My dear Sisters and friends, the “consolation of the Holy Spirit” remains with us today.  As we look more intently towards Pentecost and the celebration of the full manifestation of the Spirit in the church, let us seek to embrace these four consolations of the Holy Spirit—freedom, union, hope, and pain—according to our vocation, so that we might enjoy the same peace that the early church experienced and be made ready to enter fully into the kingdom of heaven when our Lord—whom we encounter in this Eucharist—returns in glory.

Given at the Monastery of the Poor Clares: Kokomo, IN – April 28th, 2024

Sunday, April 21, 2024

You are not necessary, but you are desired

 Homily: 4th Sunday of Easter – Cycle B

         Friends, for the first three weeks of this Easter season we have celebrated the utterly strange, powerful, and shocking reality of the resurrection.  We’ve considered how this reality is meant not only to demonstrate God’s awesome power, but also to be shared with us.  And we’ve considered how our encounter with this reality demands that we give testimony to it.  This week, our readings invite us to take a step back and to consider the bigger picture, so let’s take a look at what they’re trying to show us.

         First, I’m going to say something that may sound wrong to you, but I’ll try to explain myself: You are not necessary.  In fact, none of us is necessary.  Now let’s try to understand why.  In the beginning, before the universe was, there was God; and God was perfectly complete in himself.  He didn’t need anything.  He was supremely perfect and, therefore, supremely happy.  He is a community of persons, perfectly in harmony.  Nonetheless, in his perfect will, he decided that he wanted to share his supreme happiness with other persons, like him but who weren’t him.  And so, perfect in his own free will, he decided to create the universe and to place his most exalted creature, humankind, the one creature created in his image and likeness, in it so that he might dwell in perfect harmony with him for all eternity.  And so we see that none of creation is necessary, but rather that all of it is willed intentionally by God.

         This is the good news of creation: that although none of us is necessary, each of us is desired.  Each of us is willed intentionally into being by God for one reason and one reason only: because he desires to share the perfect, inter-personal harmony that he is himself with other persons.  Maybe this doesn’t sound very exciting—“living in perfect inter-personal harmony forever”—but it should!  Just think for a moment about what causes the most strife in the world.  Is it not the disharmony of persons?  In other words, is it not the fact that people work against others in order to gain an advantage over them?  Now just imagine a life in which there is no disharmony, but only harmony between persons.  It would be so good!  No conflicts, no arguments… just people living together in peace.  Doesn’t this sound like heaven?  My friends, this is why God created us: not to be slaves that work only for his pleasure, but so that we could enjoy the perfect inter-personal harmony that he is himself for all eternity!  And so, no, you are not necessary, but you are desired.  And Jesus, the good shepherd, proves this to us. ///

         When the human race had fallen into sin and lost the possibility to live eternally in that perfect harmony of persons who is God, God decided to send his Son to shepherd his people back to him.  Jesus, God in human nature, looks on us like a good shepherd looks upon his flock: with loving care and a deep sense of responsibility.  He loves us and so takes responsibility for us.  Therefore, when we were lost because of sin, like a good shepherd, he went looking for us; and when he found us being devoured by Satan, the enemy, he sacrificed his life to save us and set us free.

         Certainly, we all might know someone who would be so courageous as to sacrifice his/her own life to save us from some danger.  What that person won’t be able to do, however, is to raise him/her self up from the dead.  This is only something that God could do.  Therefore, we hear Saint Peter declare in the first reading, “There is no salvation through anyone else…”  Only Jesus, who died but rose to life again, has the power to effect salvation—that is, to make us free to live in God’s perfect harmony once again.  Therefore, he is the good shepherd—the only good shepherd—because only on him can we rely to lead us back to perfect harmony—that is, perfect happiness—in God, because only he has overcome the power of death—that is, the one thing that can keep us separated from God. ///

         Friends, as Saint John said in the second reading, “we are God’s children now”.  As children, we are willed into existence in order to enjoy the inheritance of the Father.  This is a sign of the Father’s love for us!  Part of the Father’s desire for us, however, is that we participate in his Son’s shepherding of his children back into perfect harmony in him.  Therefore, when he thought us into existence, God included a particular way that we could participate in this shepherding.  This is our vocation: a calling that God asks us to embrace to bring about a greater harmony among people in this world, in anticipation of the harmony he has made us to enjoy in the next.

         The most direct way that we shepherd people towards God is in the family.  Mothers and fathers, who have already cooperated with God to produce their child, continue their cooperation by raising each child to know God, to know God’s desire for him/her, and to know the particular vocation to which God has called their child for the building up of his kingdom.  Priests and deacons are called to sanctify and serve the laity in their efforts to fulfill their vocations.  Religious are called to witness to the harmony of communal life for which we are destined even as they, too, serve to shepherd others toward it.  My friends, on this World Day of Prayer for Vocations, in which we are reminded that none of us is necessary, but rather that each of us is willed and desired by God, we are called to pray (and to act) for an increase in the number of people who are embracing their call to shepherd others to the life of perfect happiness in God, even as we rededicate ourselves to do the same.

         If you are a young person still thinking about where this life might take you, I challenge you to resist trying to answer the question, “what do I want to be when I grow up?”, and try to find the answer to this question, instead: “what has God intended me to be?”  In discovering this answer and choosing to become it, you will discover that, while you are not necessary, you are desired for your own sake and you are invited to play an important part to help shepherd others towards their perfect happiness in God.  Do not be afraid to ask this question, “what has God intended me to be?”, and to respond generously to God when he reveals it to you.  In doing so, you will discover a sense of joy and purpose for your life while also helping to bring about greater happiness in the world.  And who doesn’t want more happiness in the world? ///

         My friends, our Good Shepherd is here to guide us and to protect us.  As we celebrate the proof that he is the good shepherd who has laid down his life and has taken it up again, let us give him thanks and re-commit ourselves to discerning and becoming who he has intended us to be: children of the Father bringing about his kingdom of harmony and peace as we await the day that we will enjoy the fullness of this harmony and peace in him in heaven.

         Our Blessed Mother, Mary, already enjoys the fullness of this harmony.  Let us turn to her who, embracing her vocation, gave birth to our Good Shepherd, and ask her for her help in this good work: Hail Mary…

Given at St. Joan of Arc Parish: Kokomo, IN – April 20th, 2024

Given at the Monastery of the Poor Clares and St. Patrick Parish: Kokomo, IN – April 21st, 2024

Monday, April 15, 2024

Witnesses of the Resurrected Christ

 Homily: 3rd Easter – Cycle B

          How many of you watched the eclipse of the sun last Monday?  (Keep your hands up, I’m counting… just kidding!)  I watched the eclipse and if you’re anything like me you were very much amazed at the spectacle.  As I commented to one person afterwards, “I didn’t have this on my ‘bucket list’ of things to do before I die, but I’m writing it on there today and then checking it off!”

          One of the things that I couldn’t get out of my mind during the entire process was just how impossible it all was.  I mean, here we are, standing on this huge rock, hurtling through space, circling a big ball of fire, millions of miles away.  And there’s this other, smaller rock, that’s circling around the rock we’re on, which, on a regular basis, lines up perfectly with the big ball of fire and is the right size and the right distance between us and that ball of fire to block the ball of fire out completely for a short time, making a dazzling display for us.  Friends, this did not just “happen”.  Too many variables had to line up over hundreds and thousands of years for this to have happened by “chance”.  I can only imagine that this is one of those great “easter eggs” that God has thrown into the universe to delight us.  Hopefully, you had similar thoughts and experiences.

          Okay, let me ask you this, how many of you told one or more persons about your experience of viewing the eclipse?  Great!  A good many of you.  I did, too!  When you did, you engaged in the work of being a witness.  A witness is someone who has an experience of an event who then will give, or be called upon to give, a testimony of what he/she has experienced to others.  We know this most commonly, of course, from courts of law.  In a criminal investigation, “witnesses”—those who had some experience of the event in question—are called upon to give testimony about what they have experienced in an attempt to establish the facts of the event and, thus, judge whether a crime has been committed.  In the same way, our experiences of the eclipse made us witnesses.  Our testimony of our experience before others is evidence that we are.

          In today’s Gospel reading, we are once again back in the upper room the night of the day of Our Lord’s resurrection.  It begins with the two disciples from Emmaus giving testimony to what they witnessed when the Risen Lord walked with them on the way and then revealed himself fully when he broke bread with them at table.  It continues with Jesus himself appearing to them.  After going through many gyrations to demonstrate to them that it was he himself who was alive, and not a ghost, Jesus again explains how the Scriptures had foretold everything that had happened to him.  After he does this, he says to them, “You are witnesses of these things”.  The disciples from Emmaus had already proven themselves to be witnesses.  With Jesus’ words, the apostles and others who were present learned that they, too, were witnesses.  Witnesses are those who have an experience of an event and who then testify to what they have experienced.

          In the first reading, Peter is giving testimony to what he has experienced to a group of Jews who are questioning him after he and John brought healing to the lame man.  He recounts how Jesus was treated by the Jews—that he was put to death at their hands—but then recounts his experience of Jesus, risen from the dead.  He tells them plainly: “of this we are witnesses”.  Peter and the other apostles have taken Jesus’ words seriously and have made themselves witnesses by giving testimony about what they have experienced—a most impossible thing… the rising of a man from the dead!—leading others, thus, to believe, even though those others may not have seen it for themselves.

          Friends, we too are witnesses of the risen Christ.  When we look back at these encounters with the risen Lord, we see that they took place around a table: the disciples from Emmaus at the table in their home and with the apostles and others in the upper room, where the Last Supper was celebrated.  We gather each Sunday (and more often for some of you) around this table—an altar of sacrifice, yes, but also a table of encounter and communion—and the risen Lord makes himself present to us.  And how impossible is this, right?  That the Master of the Universe, who designed it to include such useless, yet awe-inspiring events as a total eclipse, in such a way that we can experience it, would nonetheless make himself present to us in bodily form, under the appearance of simple bread and wine.  It’s not only impossible, it’s unfathomable for us.  None of us would have ever come up with this idea on our own: it’s too strange to our sensibilities.  It could only be imagined by him who sees so far beyond our thinking.  Yet, here it is, and here we are once again.  Therefore, Jesus’ words to the apostles and the others in the upper room that first Easter night are the same that he says to us here today: “You are witnesses of these things”.  We are witnesses of these things.

          As you are all staying aware of, I’m sure, we are in the midst of a National Eucharistic Revival here in the United States.  A revival in which we are striving to reinvigorate this belief among the faithful: that the Son of God took on human nature and lived among us; that he suffered death unjustly in order to redeem us from our sins; that he rose from the dead by his own divine power; and that he is present to us in the form of bread and wine in each Mass so that we might be witnesses of his resurrection.  Friends, people throughout the world are suffering and looking to be rescued from it.  What I just described to you is God’s rescue project.  As recipients of his rescue, we are called to be witnesses: to give testimony to others about what we have experienced.  In this year of revival, may our testimony bring new life to our celebration of these awe-inspiring mysteries!

          Perhaps one last note: If you are struggling to believe in the impossibility of what happens here in the Mass, consider thinking about it this way.  Just as we could not look directly at the sun, even as the moon was eclipsing it, so too we could not look directly at Jesus in his glorified body.  Thus, he appears to us in this way—in the form of simple bread and wine—obscuring the full brightness of his glory, yet allowing us to look directly at a portion of his splendor so that we might not shy away from looking at him, but rather approach with confidence to his warm embrace.  Let us approach him now, eyes wide open, ready to receive him and the grace to be his witnesses in the world.

Given at Our Lady of Mt. Carmel Parish: Carmel, IN – April 14th, 2024

Sunday, April 7, 2024

Abrazando la Divina Misericordia

 Homilía: 2º Domingo de la Pascua (La Divina Misericordia) – Ciclo B

         El 30 de abril del año 2000 sucedieron dos hechos importantes que han afectado directamente nuestra celebración de hoy. (Quizás muchos de ustedes sepan qué son estas cosas, pero las repasaremos aquí, sólo para estar seguros). Primero, el Papa Juan Pablo II canonizó a Hermana María Faustina Kowalska, una monja polaca que tuvo la bendición de haber recibido revelaciones de Jesús pidiéndole que difunda la devoción a la Divina Misericordia. En segundo lugar, el Papa Juan Pablo II declaró que el segundo domingo de Pascua sería conocido en adelante como “Domingo de la Divina Misericordia”. La primera fue importante como autenticación de las revelaciones hechas a Hermana Faustina, permitiendo así promover la devoción a la Divina Misericordia en todo el mundo. La segunda fue importante porque cumplía una de las peticiones que Jesús hizo a hermana Faustina: que toda la Iglesia reservara el segundo domingo de Pascua para honrar y conmemorar la infinita misericordia de Dios. Por eso, hoy es apropiado que dediquemos un tiempo en esta Misa a reflexionar sobre la misericordia de Dios.

         En las Escrituras vemos la misericordia de Dios en manifestación. En el Evangelio retrocedemos hasta el día de la Resurrección, donde los discípulos de Jesús se habían reunido y aún no sabían de la resurrección de Jesús. Entonces Jesús resucitado aparece ante ellos, a pesar de que las puertas del lugar estaban cerradas—lo cual fue una muestra de gran y terrible poder—y ¿qué les dice? “¿Cómo pudieron? ¡Todos ustedes me abandonaron en mi hora de necesidad! Luego, les acurrucan con miedo, ¡como si nunca les hubiera dicho que así tenía que ser! ¡Es como si ni siquiera estuvieran escuchando!” No, él no dice eso, ¿verdad? ¿Qué dice? Él dice: “La paz esté con ustedes” y se pone a disposición de ellos: mostrándoles las manos y su costado para que sepan que es él en carne y no un fantasma. Él no los reprendió; más bien, tuvo misericordia de ellos, aunque lo habían abandonado.

         No sólo eso, sino que el siguiente paso de Jesús es darles la comisión de ir y compartir este alegre mensaje con otros. Notemos que esta comisión, “Como el Padre me ha enviado, así también los envío yo”, no tiene límites. Así, Jesús está extendiendo su misericordia incluso a aquellos que lo mataron mientras envía a sus discípulos a proclamar que ha resucitado y que todos los que ponen su fe en él pueden disfrutar de la redención.

         Para estar seguro de que no hay dudas sobre si una persona ha recibido la misericordia de Dios o no, Jesús hace algo aún más increíble: da a sus discípulos la autoridad de perdonar los pecados. Por lo tanto, cada vez que se encuentran con alguien, no tienen que confiar en una convicción vaga (“Dios es misericordioso, y por eso estoy seguro de que Dios te perdona”), sino que pueden proclamar con valentía: “Sé que Dios te perdona, porque a mí me ha sido dada autoridad para proclamar su perdón, y lo proclamo”. Ésta, por supuesto, es la institución del Sacramento de la Reconciliación: el sacramento de la misericordia de Dios extendido a los pecadores.

         Entonces, a pesar de todo este dramatismo intensificado, llega un momento de dramatismo aún mayor en la lectura de hoy, ¿verdad? Tomás, uno de los doce discípulos más cercanos de Jesús, no estaba con ellos cuando Jesús se les apareció esa primera noche de Pascua. Cuando regresa con ellos y le dicen que habían visto a Jesús vivo, Tomás lo niega. (¿Te lo imaginas? Tomás escuchó el relato de la aparición de Jesús y dijo: “¡No! ¡No lo creo! ¡Están mintiendo y haciéndome daño!”) Está tan herido por la aparente derrota de Jesús—el que pensaba que sería su nuevo rey—que no aceptará el testimonio de otros, sino que insistirá en una reconciliación cara a cara con él.

         Durante toda una semana Tomás rumia sobre el hecho de que Jesús supuestamente se apareció a los otros discípulos sin que él estuviera presente hasta el domingo siguiente cuando, presente esta vez con los otros discípulos, Tomás también ve al Señor resucitado. Nuevamente, misericordiosamente, Jesús no condena a Tomás, sino que lo invita a acercarse. En cierto modo, Jesús le está diciendo: “No dejes que tu dolor te impida poner tu fe en mí. ¡Ven, toca las marcas de los clavos y mi costado abierto y sabrás que soy yo, vivo incluso después de la muerte!” Tomás, al encontrarse cara a cara con el hombre que estaba muerto, pero que ahora vive, confiesa la verdad que su corazón seguramente sabía desde el principio: “¡Señor mío y Dios mío!” ///

         Ésta, hermanos míos, es la naturaleza ilimitada de la misericordia de Dios: no sólo que nos perdone nuestros pecados, sino que se acerque a nosotros, sin permitirnos nunca alejarnos de él, sino persiguiéndonos porque él desea tanto que nos reconciliemos con él. Quiero decir, ¿crees que fue un accidente que Jesús se apareciera a los discípulos cuando Tomás no estaba con ellos el Domingo de Pascua? ¡Por supuesto que no! Al hacerlo, Jesús quiso demostrarnos que, incluso en nuestras dudas, no nos abandonaría. Así, permite que Tomás se pierda su primera aparición para poder mostrarnos a todos que la duda (¡aunque sea significativa!) no es suficiente para asustarlo u ofenderlo. [REPETIR] Más bien, él viene a nosotros una y otra vez… y otra vez, si es necesario, hasta que permitamos que su tierna mirada caiga sobre nosotros y así confesemos nuestra fe en él.

         Estoy seguro de que cada uno de nosotros ha experimentado los tipos de ansiedades, frustraciones y dudas que experimentó Tomás cuando vio a su Señor sufrir y morir. Sospecho que es seguro decir que, en algún momento de nuestras vidas, cada uno de nosotros, como Tomás, nos hemos resistido a creer que Dios realmente ha superado lo que parecía ser nuestra derrota. Lo que esta lectura del Evangelio de hoy hace por nosotros, y lo que nuestra conmemoración de la Divina Misericordia hace hoy por nosotros, es recordarnos que Dios nunca nos abandona en nuestras ansiedades, frustraciones y dudas, sino que regresa a nosotros, siempre dispuesto a encontrarnos, con las manos expuestas y diciendo: “La paz esté con ustedes”. Es paz lo que él nos ofrece: la paz de creer que la bondad de Dios nunca puede agotarse y que ninguna oscuridad en el mundo podrá apagar su luz: la misma luz que atravesó las tinieblas de la muerte para que podamos experimentar la vida eterna.

         Cada vez que venimos a Misa y nos acercamos a la Sagrada Comunión, nos encontramos cara a cara una vez más con la misericordia de Dios. Hoy, en el día en que celebramos particularmente la Divina Misericordia, abramos nuestro corazón para permitir que las palabras de Jesús vuelvan a nuestras vidas: “La paz esté con ustedes”. Y luego, mientras nuestro “Amén” proclama las palabras de Santo Tomás: “¡Señor mío y Dios mío!”, pronunciemos también las palabras que Jesús enseñó a decir a Santa María Faustina cuando se encontraba cara a cara con su misericordia: “Jesús, en ti confío”. Con estas palabras en nuestros corazones, estaremos listos para dar un paso adelante de esta Misa para ser el rostro de la misericordia de Dios para quienes nos rodean; para que juntos proclamemos la verdad más importante de todas: que Jesús, el Hijo de Dios, el crucificado, está vivo… ¡que verdaderamente ha resucitado!

Dado en la parroquia de San Jose: Rochester, IN – 7 de abril, 2024

Embracing the Divine Mercy

 Homily: 2nd Sunday of Easter (Divine Mercy Sunday) – Cycle B

         On April 30th of the year 2000, two important things happened that have directly affected our celebration today.  (Perhaps many of you know what these things are, but we’ll review them here, just to be sure.)  First, Pope John Paul II canonized Sr. Maria Faustina Kowalska, a Polish nun who was blessed to have received revelations from Jesus asking her to spread devotion to Divine Mercy.  Second, Pope John Paul II declared that the second Sunday of Easter would be known from now on as “Divine Mercy Sunday”.  The first was important as an authentication of the revelations made to Sr. Faustina, thus making it possible to promote devotion to Divine Mercy throughout the whole world.  The second was important as it fulfilled one of the requests that Jesus made to Sr. Faustina: that is, that the entire Church reserve the second Sunday of Easter to honor and commemorate God’s infinite mercy.  And so, today, it is appropriate that we spend some time in this Mass reflecting on God’s mercy.

         In the Scriptures, we see God’s mercy on display.  In the Gospel, we rewind back to the day of the Resurrection, where the disciples of Jesus had gathered together and did not yet know of Jesus’ resurrection.  The risen Jesus then appears before them, even though the doors to the place were locked—which was a display of great and fearful power—and what does he say to them?  Does he say, “How could you?  You all abandoned me in my hour of need!  Then, you huddle away in fear as if I never told you that this is how it had to be!  It’s like you weren’t even listening!”  No, he doesn’t say that, does he?  What does he say?  He says, “Peace be with you” and he makes himself available to them: showing them his hands and his side so that they will know it’s him in the flesh and not a ghost.  He didn’t chastise them; rather, he had mercy on them, even though they had abandoned him.

         Not only that, but Jesus’ next move is to give them a commission to go and share this joyful message with others.  Notice that this commission, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you”, has no limits on it.  Thus Jesus is extending his mercy even to those who put him to death as he sends his disciples to proclaim that he is risen and that redemption can be enjoyed by all who put their faith in him.

         To be sure that there is no doubt about whether or not a person has received God’s mercy, Jesus does something even more incredible: he gives his disciples the authority to forgive sins.  Therefore, whenever they encounter anyone, they don’t have to rely on a vague conviction (“God is merciful, and so I’m sure that God forgives you”), but rather they can boldly proclaim: “I know that God forgives you, because I have been given the authority to proclaim his forgiveness, and I proclaim it”.  This, of course, is the institution of the Sacrament of Reconciliation: the sacrament of God’s mercy extended to sinners.

         Then, in spite of all of this heightened drama, there comes a moment of even greater drama in today’s reading, doesn’t there?  Thomas, one of Jesus’ twelve closest disciples, wasn’t with them when Jesus appeared to them on that first Easter evening.  When he returns to them and they tell him that they had seen Jesus alive, Thomas denies it.  (Can you imagine it?  Thomas hearing the account of Jesus’ appearance and saying, “No! I don’t believe it! You’re lying and being hurtful to me!”)  He is so hurt by the seeming defeat of Jesus—the one who he thought would be his new king—that he will not accept the testimony of others, but rather instead insists on a face-to-face reconciliation with him.

         For a whole week Thomas broods over the fact that Jesus allegedly appeared to the other disciples without him being present until the following Sunday when, present this time with the other disciples, Thomas, too, sees the risen Lord.  Again, mercifully, Jesus does not condemn Thomas, but rather he invites him close.  In a way, Jesus is saying to him, “Do not let your hurt get in the way of placing your faith in me.  Come, touch the nail marks and my open side and know that it is me, alive even after death!”  Thomas, having come face to face with the man who was dead, but now lives, confesses the truth that his heart surely knew all along: “My Lord and my God!” ///

         This, my brothers and sisters, is the unbounded nature of God’s mercy: not just that he would forgive us our sins, but rather that he would come close to us, never allowing us to stay far from him, but rather pursuing us because he desires so much that we would be reconciled to him.  I mean, do you think that it was an accident that Jesus appeared to the disciples when Thomas wasn’t with them on Easter Sunday?  Of course not!  In doing so, Jesus wanted to prove to us that, even in our doubt, he would not abandon us.  Thus, he allows Thomas to miss his first appearance so that he might show us all that doubt—even if it is significant!—is not enough to scare him away or offend him. [REPEAT] Rather, he comes to us again… and again… and again, if necessary, until we allow his tender gaze to fall upon us and so confess our faith in him.

         Each of us, I’m sure, has experienced the kinds of anxieties, frustrations, and doubts that Thomas experienced when he watched his Lord suffer and die.  I suspect that it is safe to say that, at some point in our lives, each of us, like Thomas, has resisted believing that God really has overcome what seemed to be our defeat.  What this Gospel reading today does for us—and what our commemoration of Divine Mercy today does for us—is remind us that God never abandons us in our anxieties, frustrations, and doubts, but that he comes back to us, ever ready to meet us, hands exposed and saying “Peace be with you.”  It is peace that he offers us: the peace of believing that God’s goodness can never be exhausted and that no darkness in the world can ever extinguish his light: the very light that broke through the darkness of death so that we might experience eternal life.

         Every time that we come to Mass and we approach Holy Communion, we come face-to-face once again with God’s mercy.  Today, on the day in which we particularly celebrate the Divine Mercy, let’s open our hearts to allow Jesus’ words to be spoken into our lives once again: “Peace be with you.”  And then, as our “Amen” proclaims the words of St. Thomas—“My Lord and my God!”—let us also speak the words that Jesus taught St. Maria Faustina to say when she was face-to-face with his mercy: “Jesus, I trust in you.”  With these words in our hearts, we will then be ready to step forward from this Mass to be the face of God’s mercy to those around us; so that, together, we might proclaim the most important truth of them all: that Jesus, the Son of God, the crucified one, is alive… that he is truly risen!

Given at St. Joan of Arc Parish: Kokomo, IN – April 6th, 2024

Given at the Monastery of the Poor Clares: Kokomo, IN – April 7th, 2024