God's mystery in the unexpected

Homily: 3^rd Sunday in Easter – Cycle A

Friends, as we begin this third week of Easter, we are taken back, once again, to Easter Sunday.  After viewing the experience of Christ’s resurrection through Mary and her encounter with the empty tomb, then the disciples gathered in the upper room, we now view the experience of the resurrection through the eyes Cleopas and his companion as they travel back home to Emmaus.  One of the things that strikes me today as we encounter this very familiar story once again, was that these two disciples thought that they had it all figured out: the Messiah was going to be a great king who would rid them of the Roman occupation and restore the kingdom of God’s people.  Surely this Messiah would be recognized by all of Israel who would rally behind him, glorifying God and rejoicing that he, after many centuries, had finally fulfilled his promises to his faithful people.  When many of the Israelites, especially the religious elite, rejected Jesus as the Messiah—going so far as to have him killed as a blasphemer—many of Jesus’ disciples began to think, “Well, we must have been wrong about him.”

Striking about this conclusion is the fact that not only had these two heard the testimony of the women who went to the tomb, saw it empty, and received a message from two angels that Jesus had been raised, but they also heard the testimony of others who went to the tomb and found it as the women had described (perhaps one or both of them were in that group).  Not only is this evidence that they were not expecting the resurrection (something for which Jesus will chide them along the way), but it is also evidence that, for them, resurrection from the dead was so implausible that they didn’t wait around to find out whether it was really true or if there was some other “foul play” at work.  No matter how they came to the conclusions to which they came about the Messiah, Jesus’ death and resurrection didn’t play into them and so they turn away from the community of believers and walk back to their home: their former way of life.

The great 4^th century bishop and theologian, Saint Augustine, reminds us (and I paraphrase) that “If at any time we feel like we have come to some conclusion to our inquiry about God, we are wrong.”  What he is saying is that it is impossible for us to have God completely figured out.  God is mystery.  Of course, a mystery is not just something that is unknown, but rather something that is unknown yet knowable.  As a mystery, therefore, God is knowable—infinitely knowable, in fact.  Our human minds, however, can never know him completely; and so, whenever we find ourselves coming to a conclusion about how God is going to respond in a certain situation, we should pause and make room for God to surprise us with something unexpected.  The (presumably honest) error of Cleopas and his companion was that they didn’t allow for the unexpected resurrection of Jesus.  God’s loving kindness, however, wouldn’t leave them in their error.

One of the things that always surprises me about this passage is that the “eyes” of Cleopas and his companion “were prevented from recognizing” Jesus as he walked with them.  “Prevented?  Why?”  Let’s think about that for a moment.  Last week we heard Jesus tell Thomas... what?  “Have you believed because you have seen me?” he said, “Blessed are those who have NOT SEEN, YET BELIEVE.”  This incident with Cleopas and his companion happened before Jesus spoke these words to Thomas, but they can help us make sense of why their eyes were prevented from recognizing him.  Looking back at Jesus’ ministry, we’ll see that his goal was always to demonstrate that he was not some “new thing, come to shake up the establishment”, but rather that he was the fulfillment of all of the promises that God had made over the centuries: for if he was just a “flavor of the day”, and if there was no scriptural foundation for his claim to being the Messiah, he’d be quickly forgotten.  But if he is the fulfillment of God’s promises, well then his disciples would have a solid foundation on which to build.

Therefore, Jesus spends his time walking with the disciples explaining how he (whom they don’t yet recognize as him, remember) fulfilled all of the ancient prophesies.  In other words, he invites them to “unravel” the mystery.  By their own admission later, the disciples’ hearts were “burning within them” as they recognized that, indeed, Jesus was the Messiah as they came to understand that the Messiah had to suffer and then be raised from the dead.  Now that they understood how the Scriptures all pointed to him—that is, now that they had solidified the foundation for their belief—they were then ready to recognize him in the breaking of bread: that is, the Eucharist.

Friends, we are now more than one month under this “stay at home” order, which has separated us from the sacraments: a separation made especially painful because it comes during the time of year that we most have cause to celebrate.  Perhaps some of you are starting to feel a little confused about your faith.  Perhaps you’re starting to feel comfortable with livestream Masses and that realization is unsettling to you.  Or perhaps the opposite: you cannot get comfortable with livestream Masses and so want to abandon them, and that is unsettling.  Or maybe it’s just the prospect that this could go on for a much longer period of time that makes you question where God really is in all of this (or even if he is in it at all!).

No matter what you are experiencing today, the message of our Gospel reading is this: go back to the scriptures—that is, the source and foundation for what you know and believe—and seek the assurances that God does indeed work in unexpected ways to lead his people through uncertain times and look for the clues that he is present in our own time (trust me, they’re there!).  (The “Lectio” series on Formed.org has a collection on the biblical foundations of the Eucharist.  I recommend you watch it.)

Perhaps you’ll find your heart burning within you as you encounter these familiar sources in the context of our novel circumstances.  Regardless of whether your do, make yourselves open to the sometimes unexpected ways of God and your efforts will make you ready to see Christ with renewed eyes in the breaking of the bread here in the Eucharist, ready to receive him into your bodies once again, and ready to rush back into the world to proclaim what you have seen and heard: that “The Lord has truly been raised and we have seen him!”

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 26^th, 2020

Worship in spirit and truth

Homily: 2^nd Sunday in Easter – Cycle A

Friends, as we come to this second Sunday of Easter, the eighth (or octave) day since we celebrated our Lord’s resurrection, I’d like to take some time to reflect on a few scenes from the video series titled “The Chosen”.  Most of you have heard me refer to this series already, but they recently made the whole first season available through “livestreaming” events, the recordings of which can still be found on their YouTube channel.  I made it a point to watch one of the episodes each day this week and every one of them was very moving.  In my opinion, the producers have done an impressive job portraying the truths of the Gospel scenes while giving each of the “players” very well-rounded personalities.  In other words, for me, the writing, acting, and production have all helped me to see into the hearts of these persons, which in turn has helped me to enter into these Gospel scenes a little more deeply.

I bring this up today because I think that there are three scenes from these first eight episodes that can help us to interpret and enter into this our celebration of Easter amidst these very unique circumstances.  The scenes are these: the Shabbat dinner, Nicodemus the Pharisee, and the Samaritan woman at the well.

One of the early episodes, perhaps the second one, begins nearly 1000 years before Jesus’ birth, showing a family, living in tents out in the countryside, who are preparing for the Shabbat dinner (“Shabbat” being the Hebrew word for “Sabbath”, the day of rest).  A child, probably the age of 8, is questioning his mother about the Shabbat meal: why are they doing this (and why every week!), why are all of these extended family members invited, etc.  The mother’s responses are both generous and instructive: God commanded that we rest and so remember and give thanks for all that he has done for us, all are invited because in God’s eyes we are all one family, “peculiarly chosen to be his own”, etc.  The episode continues to show the different ways that the Shabbat dinner was continued in Capernaum in the time of Jesus: showing the very elaborate dinner hosted by the Pharisees, the simple dinner of Simon Peter, his wife, and his brother Andrew, and the awkward dinner provided by Mary of Magdala for a disparate group of people in town.

What struck me about this episode was that the dinner was liturgical.  What I mean by this is that it had a form that was to be followed, but which also allowed for adaptation to the means of the household and the circumstances under which it was performed.  It also meant that this was not just a dinner party, but rather a sacred event: a meal consecrated to giving thanks.  Beyond being liturgical, however, what struck me was that it was celebrated in the home.  This latter part is why I am sharing this with you today.  I see in our current circumstances a great opportunity to grow and develop liturgical prayer in the home, especially around meal times.  Parents (or elders in a household), during this time, be intentional about setting aside at least one time a week to engage in liturgical prayer with your family or those in your household.  This could be done around a meal, by using one of the meal blessings meant for households that can be found online and then having each person speak of what they are thankful for, or it could be taking time in the evening to pause and read from scripture and to talk about it with each other.  If you are a household of one, I encourage you to seek ways to do this virtually through the many video conferencing programs available on the internet.  The point being: that we apply ourselves during this time to making our homes into sacred places for prayer once again.

Throughout these first episodes, we are introduced to Nicodemus the Pharisee.  Honestly, he’s my favorite person throughout these episodes and I’ll show you why.  Nicodemus was a leading Pharisee: kind of like an Archbishop for us—a “teacher of teachers” among the Pharisees.  At first, he seems like the consummate “corporate man”, holding the corporate line and managing the “politics” among the other Pharisees.  We discover in this portrayal of him that he is also a man of deep faith.  He knows the Law and he teaches it faithfully.  But he also knows that the Law is not an end in itself, but rather the means that God had given them to keep them in right relationship with him, lest the people fall out of favor with God.  We see that he believes that God is a living God and, thus, looks for him to work in the world around him.  Finally, we see that he is someone who is truly awaiting the Messiah, but yet still surprised when he appears.

In our circumstances I see an invitation to be like Nicodemus.  Most of us have a great desire to serve God in the way that he has laid out for us in the Church: daily prayer, worship in community on Sundays, and the works of mercy.  As we are deprived of some of those things, we are being called to trust that God is still working around us and that he is ready to make himself manifest to us in ways that we, perhaps, are not expecting.  It might be as simple as an insight about God spoken by one of your children or a friend who calls unexpectedly; or it could be something bigger, like a healing that has long been prayed for.  If we get caught yearning only for things to go back to the way in which we’re comfortable, then we may miss the ways that Jesus wants to share his resurrection joy with us here and now.

In the last episode of this first season, the scene of the Samaritan woman at the well is portrayed.  It is presented really well as it first gives us a glimpse of this woman’s life before she meets Jesus, and it “fills-out” the interaction between her and Jesus at the well.  The exchange, as it is portrayed, is a rather argumentative one as the woman wants nothing to do with this Jewish stranger while Jesus wants nothing less than for her to see him for who he is and, thus, to be set free from her past and so live in the freedom of the children of God.  In the climax of the scene, she accuses the Jews of keeping God for themselves because they claim that worship can only be done in Jerusalem at the Temple (a place where Samaritans are forbidden to go).  Jesus speaks the famous line: “The hour is coming, and is now here, when true worshipers will worship the Father in Spirit and truth...”  He tells her that he has come to make it so that true believers won’t be limited by mountains and temples in their desire to worship, but rather will worship in the freedom of the spirit.  She is overjoyed by these words and, having come to believe that he is the Messiah because of how he revealed his knowledge of her heart to her, she runs off to tell whomever she can in the city.

In our present circumstances, I see that we, too, are being called to this kind of worship: that is, to discover (or re-discover) our capacity to worship God right from where we are; and to do so “in spirit and in truth”, which we are capable of doing because of the Holy Spirit who dwells in us who have been baptized.  In other words, while we cannot worship in our churches (as we’d prefer), we have not been prevented from worshiping God with our hearts and our voices.  When we sing hymns that we know or even just read the Psalms out loud, we praise God.  When we kneel in prayer from wherever we are, we praise God.  When we console and support one another, we praise God.  My friends, now is a time for each of us to worship God “in spirit and truth”.

In our Gospel reading today, Jesus declares those “blessed” who have not seen his resurrected body, but who yet believe that he is the Messiah, who died but now lives.  We who live today and who believe may count ourselves among the “blessed”.  More than that, we have been given a share in his Spirit which enables us to worship God from wherever we are “in spirit and truth”.  Let us be grateful for this gift.  And let us increase our trust that God is with us in this time of isolation, turning towards making our homes sacred places in which every day occurrences can become liturgies in which God is praised, thus opening ourselves to encountering our Lord in new ways.  Finally, let us commit ourselves to rejoicing, so that, as Saint Peter wrote, “the genuineness of our faith... may prove to be for praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ."  My brothers and sisters, Jesus Christ is alive and we have life in him.  Let us rejoice and be glad!

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 19^th, 2020

El Señor resucitado viene a nosotros

Homilía: Domingo de la Pascua – Ciclo A

          "Se han llevado del sepulcro al Señor y no sabemos dónde lo habrán puesto". Estas palabras de María de Magdala quizás resuenan en nuestros oídos y nuestros corazones hoy cuando entramos en esta solemnidad de Pascua. Resuenan en nuestros corazones porque, tal vez, podamos simpatizar con sus sentimientos en esa primera mañana de Pascua, a pesar de que nuestra situación es diferente. En lugar de venir a el sepulcro de nuestro Señor y encontrarla vacía (malentendido, como ella, que el cuerpo del Señor había sido llevado, en lugar de resucitado de entre los muertos), anhelamos venir a nuestras iglesias para encontrar a nuestro Señor, pero no podemos. Por lo tanto, en cierto sentido, nosotros también podemos decir "Se han llevado al Señor ... y no sabemos dónde lo habrán puesto".

          Por lo tanto, en cierto sentido, tenemos una gran solidaridad con los primeros cristianos que, absolutamente desconcertados por los acontecimientos del Viernes Santo, ahora, en su dolor, y tratando de llegar a un acuerdo con la pérdida de su Señor y Maestro, están desconcertados una vez más por esta noticia del sepulcro vacío. Pedro, a quien Jesús reconoció como el líder de sus discípulos, después de recibir esta noticia, corre a la tumba y encuentra todo como María lo había descrito. El escritor del Evangelio no nos da su reacción, pero podemos inferir que se quedó desconcertado al verlo. Tal vez nosotros también estemos desconcertados por esta situación en la que no podemos entrar a nuestras iglesias hoy para proclamar con una sola voz las buenas noticias de la resurrección de Jesús: mostrando que no hemos tardado en comprender el significado de estos eventos, sino que hemos entendido y creyó. Esto, para decirlo suavemente, es un gran sufrimiento para nosotros.

          Sin embargo, hoy estamos llamados a alegrarnos de que Cristo haya resucitado de la muerte. Y creo que el sufrimiento que estamos experimentando este año resalta para nosotros una gran verdad que se encuentra debajo de la superficie de esta celebración, una verdad, espero, que traerá consuelo y una alegría profunda a nuestra conmemoración hoy, y esa verdad es esto: que el camino a la resurrección es a través del sufrimiento.

          Muchos de nosotros, tal vez, vivimos vidas relativamente cómodas. Tenemos lugares para vivir, ropa para vestir, comida para comer, un trabajo que nos proporciona (o nos ha proporcionado, si estamos jubilados, o padres u otras personas que tienen trabajos que nos proporcionan). Tenemos familiares y amigos que nos apoyan y agregan alegría a nuestras vidas. Sin embargo, si hemos vivido lo suficiente, nos damos cuenta de que incluso esas comodidades que disfrutamos no han dejado de sufrir por completo de nuestras vidas. Más bien, todos hemos experimentado sufrimiento de alguna manera. Hemos perdido seres queridos por la muerte y hemos visto sufrir a seres queridos; hemos sido lastimados por aquellos más cercanos a nosotros: nuestros cónyuges, nuestros familiares (quizás incluso nuestros propios hijos) y nuestros amigos; hemos perdido trabajos (o, tal vez, no hemos podido encontrar el trabajo que nos ayudaría a realizar nuestros sueños). De estas y muchas otras maneras, el sufrimiento ha tocado cada una de nuestras vidas. Y, ahora, debido a la pandemia, el sufrimiento está tocando cada una de nuestras vidas de una manera única.

          El sufrimiento, para muchas personas, es una cosa de desesperación; y si lo pensamos aunque sea un poco, podemos ver por qué. Instintivamente sabemos que nuestras vidas son limitadas; y entonces, si el sufrimiento se vuelve una parte demasiado grande de ella, comenzamos a desesperarnos de que haya alguna esperanza de disfrutar esta vida que nos ha sido dada. Para aquellos para quienes el sufrimiento diario es intenso, esta falta de esperanza puede ser sofocante: llevarlos a aislarse del mundo y, en algunos casos, a contemplar terminar de sus propias vidas (porque, según creen, terminar con sus vidas finalmente les traería fin de su sufrimiento).

          Esta es la razón por la cual la celebración de hoy, la resurrección de Jesucristo de los muertos, es una buena noticia: porque no solo Jesús nos redimió del castigo debido al pecado, sino que nos abrió una vida más allá del sufrimiento: una en la que entramos precisamente a través del sufrimiento. Sí, la resurrección de Jesús es una maravilla y asombro; pero sería muy diferente si hubiera vivido una vida cómoda y plena y muriera a una edad avanzada por causas naturales, ¿verdad? Sin duda estaríamos encantados de verlo en su resurrección, pero ¿sería realmente la victoria que esperábamos? No, la resurrección de Jesús tiene un gran poder porque se produce precisamente después de que sufrió terriblemente: que él, el único hombre verdaderamente inocente que haya vivido, sufrió la peor parte del mal que el mundo pudo producir y lo derrotó al resucitar de entre los muertos. Al hacerlo, nos demuestra que el sufrimiento en este mundo no es sin sentido; sino más bien que, cuando es aceptado y soportado en inocencia de corazón, por el amor de Dios y nuestro prójimo, nos acelerará en el camino que nos conduce a la vida más allá del sufrimiento que Jesús hizo posible para nosotros.

          Esto es tan importante que decir hoy: ¿y por qué? Bueno, porque no fue suficiente para Jesús ser una "buena persona" durante toda su vida, una persona que trata de no lastimar a los demás y de lo contrario no crea problemas, y luego morir de causas naturales solo para ser resucitado. Más bien, tuvo que luchar con este mundo, y el sufrimiento infligido por el mal dentro de él, para abrirnos el camino a una vida más allá del sufrimiento. Tenga en cuenta que esta lucha no era para empujar el sufrimiento hacia abajo y superarlo por su astucia o su poder; más bien, su lucha era mantenerse puro dentro del sufrimiento, para mostrar que incluso el peor sufrimiento que el mal en este mundo puede infligir no es rival para el poder de Dios.

          Hermanos y Hermanas, no proclamamos una salvación fácil. Más bien, proclamamos una salvación ganada para nosotros a través del sufrimiento: una salvación en la que participamos a través del sufrimiento. Y esta, como he dicho, es la gran verdad oculta bajo la superficie de la celebración de hoy: que, si aceptamos los sufrimientos que nos llegan en esta vida, los sufrimientos que estamos experimentando ahora, así como todos los sufrimientos diarios que experimentamos debido a nuestros pecados y simplemente porque este mundo está roto, y especialmente los sufrimientos que nos llegan precisamente porque somos discípulos de Jesús ... Si aceptamos estos sufrimientos, entonces nos estamos uniendo más perfectamente a Cristo en su sufrimiento. Y cuando estamos unidos a Cristo en su sufrimiento, entonces también nos uniremos a él en los frutos de su sufrimiento: la nueva vida más allá del sufrimiento que él ha hecho posible para nosotros.

          Hermanos y hermanas, este sufrimiento involuntario que nos vemos obligados a soportar, aparentemente separados de nuestro Señor en este día cuando más deseamos acercarnos a él, no es infructuoso. Más bien, para aquellos que los abrazan por amor a Dios y, especialmente, por amor a nuestro prójimo a quien estamos protegiendo mediante nuestro distanciamiento social, este sufrimiento nos une más perfectamente a Cristo y, por lo tanto, nos prepara para experimentar la resurrección con él. Esta verdad de que, a través del sufrimiento, estamos trayendo una nueva vida no podría ser más evidente para nosotros que aquí en esta Misa: en la que ofrecemos a Dios el sacrificio perfecto de su Hijo en acción de gracias por la salvación que su sufrimiento ha ganado por nosotros.

          Una de las cosas que me llamó la atención esta mañana cuando reflexioné, fue que María y los discípulos salieron en busca del cuerpo de Jesús, pero no estaba allí. En otras palabras, salieron a buscarlo, pero no lo encontraron. Sin embargo, si leemos más en el Evangelio, vemos que no fueron ellos quienes lo encontraron, sino más bien él quien vino a ellos. Quizás hoy, en esta situación desconcertante en la que se nos impide buscarlo, podamos, como el discípulo amado después de entrar en el sepulcro vacío, creer de todos modos; y, por lo tanto, nos abrimos a las formas en que él vendrá a nosotros y nos hará conocer su presencia resucitada.

          Mis hermanos y hermanas, desde dondequiera que estemos hoy, en cualquier sufrimiento que podamos estar experimentando, abramos nuestros corazones al encuentro que Cristo quiere para nosotros hoy, poniendo todo nuestro corazón en esta ofrenda: porque Cristo ha resucitado y tenemos la vida en él.

Dado en la iglesia del Sagrado Sacramento: West Lafayette, IN – 12 de abril, 2020

Our Risen Lord comes to us

Homily: Easter Sunday – Cycle A

“They have taken the Lord from the tomb, and we don’t know where they put him.”  These words of Mary of Magdala perhaps ring in our ears and our hearts today as we enter this Easter solemnity.  They resonate in our hearts because we, perhaps, can sympathize with her feelings on that first Easter morning, even though our situation is quite different.  Instead of coming to the tomb of our Lord and finding it empty (misunderstanding, as she did, that the Lord’s body had been taken, instead of raised from the dead), we long to come to our churches to find our Lord, yet we cannot.  Thus, in a sense, we, too can say “They have taken the Lord … and we do not know where they put him.”

Thus, in a sense, we have great solidarity with those first Christians who, absolutely bewildered by the events of Good Friday, now, in their grief, and trying to come to terms with the loss of their Lord and Teacher, are bewildered once again by this news of the empty tomb.  Peter, whom Jesus acknowledged as the head of his disciples, after receiving this news, runs to the tomb himself and finds everything as Mary had described.  The Gospel writer does not give us his reaction, but we are left to infer that he remained bewildered at the sight.  Perhaps we, too, remain bewildered by this situation in which we cannot enter our churches today to proclaim with one voice the good news of Jesus’ resurrection: showing that we have not been slow to understand the meaning of these events, but rather have understood and believed.  This, to state it mildly, is a great suffering for us.

Yet today we are called to rejoice that Christ is risen from the dead.  And I believe that the suffering that we are experiencing this year highlights for us a great truth that lies underneath the surface of this celebration—a truth, I hope, that will bring consolation and a depth of joy to our commemoration today—and that truth is this: that the way to resurrection is through suffering.

Most of us, perhaps, live relatively comfortable lives.  We have places to live, clothes to wear, food to eat, a job that provides for us (or has provided for us, if we are retired, or parents or others who have jobs that provide for us).  We have family and friends that support us and add joy to our lives. Nevertheless, if we’ve lived long enough, we realize that even those comforts that we enjoy haven’t kept suffering completely out of our lives.  Rather, we have all experienced suffering in some way.  We’ve lost loved ones through death and we’ve watched loved ones suffer; we’ve been hurt by those closest to us: our spouses, our family members (perhaps even our own children), and our friends; we’ve lost jobs (or, perhaps, failed to get the job that would help us fulfill our dreams).  In these and countless other ways, suffering has touched each of our lives.  And, now, because of the pandemic, suffering is touching each of our lives in a unique way.

Suffering, for many people, is a thing of despair; and if we think about it even for a little bit, we can see why.  We instinctively know that our life spans are limited; and so, if suffering becomes too great a part of it, we begin to despair that there is any hope of enjoying this life that we have been given.  For those for whom daily suffering is intense, this lack of hope can be stifling: leading them to isolate themselves from the world and, in some cases, to contemplate ending their own lives (for, they believe, to end their lives would finally bring an end to their suffering).

This is why today’s celebration—the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead—is such good news: because not only has Jesus redeemed us from the punishment due to sin, but he has opened for us a life beyond suffering: one into which we enter precisely through suffering.  Yes, Jesus’ resurrection is a thing of wonder and awe; but it would be much different if he had lived a comfortable and full life and died at a ripe-old age of natural causes, wouldn’t it?  We’d certainly be overjoyed to see him at his resurrection, but would it truly be the victory we had hoped for?  No, Jesus’ resurrection holds such great power because it comes precisely after he suffered horrendously: that he, the only truly innocent man ever to live, suffered the full brunt of evil that the world could produce and defeated it by rising from the dead.  In doing so, he demonstrates for us that suffering in this world is not meaningless; but rather that, when it is accepted and endured in innocence of heart, for the love of God and our neighbor, it will speed us along the path that leads to the life beyond suffering that Jesus has made possible for us.

This is so important to say today: and why?  Well, because it wasn’t enough for Jesus to be a “good person” throughout his life—one who tries not to hurt others and otherwise doesn’t create problems—and then to die of natural causes only to be raised again.  Rather, he had to contend with this world—and the evil-inflicted suffering within it—in order to open for us the way to a life beyond suffering.  Notice, that this contention wasn’t to push suffering down and overcome it by his cunning or his power; rather, his contention was to stay pure within the suffering, so as to show that even the worst suffering that the evil in this world can inflict is no match for the power of God.

My friends, we do not proclaim an easy salvation.  Rather, we proclaim a salvation won for us through suffering: a salvation in which we participate through suffering.  And this, as I’ve said, is the great truth hidden beneath the surface of today’s celebration: that if we embrace the sufferings that come to us in this life—the sufferings that we are experiencing now, as well as all of the daily sufferings that we experience because of our sins and simply because this world is broken, and most especially the sufferings that come to us precisely because we are disciples of Jesus...  If we embrace these sufferings, then we are uniting ourselves more perfectly to Christ in his suffering.  And when we are united to Christ in his suffering, then we will also be united to him in the fruits of his suffering: the new life beyond suffering that he has made possible for us.

Friends, this involuntary suffering that we are being forced to endure—seemingly being separated from our Lord on this day when we most desire to draw close to him—is not fruitless.  Rather, for those who embrace it for love of God and, especially, for love of our neighbor whom we are protecting by our social distancing, this suffering is uniting us more perfectly to Christ and, thus, preparing us to experience the resurrection with him.  This truth that, through suffering, we are bringing forth new life could not be more evident to us than here in this Mass: in which we offer back to God the perfect sacrifice of his Son in thanksgiving for the salvation that his suffering has won for us.

You know, one of the things that struck me this morning as I reflected, was that Mary and the disciples went out, seeking to find Jesus’ body, but it was not there.  In other words, they went out looking for him, yet did not find him.  If we read further in Gospel, however, we see that it was not they who found him, but rather he who came to them.  Perhaps today, in this bewildering situation in which we are prevented from seeking him, we can, like the beloved disciple after stepping into the empty tomb, nonetheless believe; and, thus, make ourselves open to the ways in which he will come to us and make his risen presence known to us.

My brothers and sisters, from wherever we may be today, in whatever sufferings we may be experiencing, let us open our hearts to the encounter that Christ wants for us today by putting our whole hearts into this offering: for Christ is risen and we have life in him.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 12^th, 2020

Through the cross, "it is finished".

Homily: Commemoration of our Lord’s Passion

Although it may seem obvious to many of you, I don’t think that it is a bad idea to take a step back today and to ask ourselves, “Why do we celebrate the Passion of our Lord?”  There is, of course, the obvious reason: that, as believers, we have an obligation to commemorate this event through which we have all been redeemed—that is, the event through which our sins find the possibility of forgiveness.  An obligation so that we “never forget” that it is in and through Jesus Christ and his self-sacrifice that the possibility of a life beyond the suffering of this world is made possible for us.  Just as, for us citizens of the United States, we can “never forget” the events of 9/11, or Pearl Harbor, or the signing of the Declaration of Independence, and thus we must commemorate them, Christians can “never forget” the events of Good Friday through our yearly commemoration.

Perhaps a less-obvious reason, but one particularly poignant this year, is that we often need a reminder that suffering, embraced and endured for a good end, is never meaningless.  This year, through no fault of our own, we have been ordered to make sacrifices and, thus, to suffer, for the good of others (and, ultimately, ourselves).  This should give us a sense of solidarity with Christ who, Isaiah prophesied, would be one who had done no wrong but who nonetheless suffered as if he was a great sinner.  This same one who, the author of the Letter to the Hebrews testified, learned obedience from what he suffered and was made perfect, so as to become the source of eternal salvation.  On the surface, Christ’s suffering appeared meaningless: a cruel abuse perpetuated by authorities who wrongly convicted him.  Christ knew the good end for which he was suffering, however, and so he could persevere and even find strength to endure it to the end.  Although it may seem that we are suffering unjustly these days, I pray that we can see the good end for which we are suffering—saving lives—and thus find strength in knowing that our suffering has value so as to persevere in it until the threat of this pandemic ends.

After these two more practical reasons, there is still another reason why we celebrate the Passion of our Lord.  This is to remind ourselves of the truth that Jesus proclaimed from the cross: “It is finished.”  Here’s what I mean: There is so much anxiety among the faithful—all of you and myself included—for being separated from the sacraments.  I’m grateful for this anxiety as it shows a great longing in you to be free of this world and so untied to God.  There’s an anxiety, in particular, to be able to confess our sins and receive absolution (and, again, I feel that anxiety with you!).  Because of this, we perhaps feel a particular anxiety and a desire to weep in sorrow for our sins before the cross: the instrument of torture on which our Savior suffered precisely because of our sins.  While such a desire is completely appropriate to this day, I don’t think that this weeping is what we are called to do today (at least, not exclusively).  Rather, I think that we are called to acknowledge and to celebrate that “It is finished” and, thus, to make deep acts of faith in the truth that we proclaim during the Stations of the Cross: that is, that “by his holy cross, he has redeemed the world”.  These acts should give us consolation that, while God has given us the sacraments as our surety of his grace, he, nonetheless, is not bound by them.  Rather, he is "bound" by the perfect obedience of his Son, which won redemption for all who, in turn, obey him.

Friends, the Passion of our Lord is presented to us in narrative form so as to remind us that God worked out our salvation in the thick of our human messiness, so as to remind us that it is not by making our lives some idyllic perfection of piety and devotion that we come to salvation (as good as that would be), but rather that it is by embracing the cross—that is, taking up our daily sacrifices in the midst of our daily messes for the good of those around us—that salvation comes to us.  Today, in a special way, we unite the "mess" of this pandemic—and all of the sufferings that have come with it—to the cross of Christ: asking for its swift end, of course, but also that the redemption he won for us might be found and accepted in the midst of it.

May our veneration of the cross today remind us that the work of our redemption truly is finished; and, thus, give us hope to persevere through this trial and every trial still to come.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 10^th, 2020

Let us go also to die with him.

Homily: Palm Sunday – Cycle A

“Let us also go to die with him.”  These were the words of Thomas the Apostle from last Sunday’s Gospel reading.  You’ll recall that it was the recounting of the miraculous raising of Lazarus from the dead.  Lazarus, who with his sisters, Martha and Mary, was a great friend of Jesus’, fell ill and died.  Martha and Mary had sent word to Jesus that he might come and cure him (for surely, as great friends of Jesus, Jesus would come quickly to heal him).  Jesus, however, delays and Lazarus dies.  It is only then that Jesus turns to go to Bethany, announcing to his disciples that Lazarus’ death will be for God’s glory and so that he, the Son of God, would be glorified, too.  Thomas—the one whom we often deride as the “doubter”—is quick to believe what Jesus has said and courageously announces that he, too, is ready to go and to die so that God might be glorified and Jesus, too, might be glorified.

When he and his fellow disciples, along with Martha and Mary and the Jews who were accompanying them in their grief, saw Lazarus—the man who was surely dead after spending four days in the tomb—walk out alive, he, along with them, must have had a profound sense that he was part of something big: something, perhaps, that he couldn’t quite comprehend at that moment.  Then, some time later, when he and the other disciples accompanied Jesus as he made his triumphal entry into Jerusalem, I imagine that he looked with wonder and delight as great crowds of people acclaimed Jesus as the Messiah.  Perhaps for him and his fellow disciples, it was the final confirmation that he was, indeed, part of something big—the biggest, in fact: the definitive restoration of the throne of David, their great king, and the ushering in of God’s eternal kingdom.

Soon after, however, their assurance would begin to wane as they came to know that not everyone in Jerusalem was convinced that Jesus was the Messiah.  The religious elite, in fact, were so unconvinced that Jesus was the Messiah that they were plotting ways to arrest Jesus and put him to death for the sin of blasphemy.  Thus, by Holy Thursday night, the joyful, triumphant spirit of Sunday had turned into a spirit of tension and uncertainty, which then would quickly transform into a spirit of shock, fear, and grief as Jesus was arrested, condemned, tortured, and crucified.

As we recount the Passion of our Lord today, we see this kind of rapid change in spirit in Jesus.  We can imagine the excitement, the joy in Christ’s heart as he entered Jerusalem to the shouts of “Hosanna” from the great crowds.  We can imagine him feeling very energized by this display.  Then, as the events of Holy Thursday night unfold, we find Jesus’ spirit turn and he becomes emptier and passive.

Jesus “emptied himself”, Paul says in his letter to the Philippians, and he took “the form of a slave.”  Typically, a slave is someone who is very passive and who will often speak as if he has no voice of his own.  Multiple times in this account from the Gospel, we heard Jesus respond as he was pressed to give an answer: when Judas asked if he would be the betrayer, when Caiaphas ordered Jesus to say whether he was the Messiah, and when Pilate asked whether he was the king of the Jews.  In each, Jesus said, passively, “You have said so,” instead of directly responding to their questions.  In fact, most everything in this account of Jesus’ Passion is showing us how completely Jesus emptied himself, making himself a slave, and becoming obedient even to the point of the most shameful kind of death: death on a cross.

Friends, every year Lent is a time in which we are called to “empty ourselves”.  This year, we’ve been called to an emptying that, perhaps, we never imagined.  A spirit that I’ve had to fight in the last couple of days has been the spirit of “let’s just get this over with”.  This is a bad spirit.  Bad because it causes us to step out of the present and into a future that isn’t yet real.  But God isn’t in the future.  God is here, right now, in this mess with us; and he wants to encounter every turbulent emotion that you are experiencing so as to speak into them: “Do not be afraid, I am with you”.

Friends, if you heard my homily from the first Sunday of Lent (remember? way back when “normal” was still normal?) you'll remember that I said that the physical discomforts that we voluntarily embrace during Lent—that is, the things we enjoy that we give up or the things that we do not enjoy that we take up—are meant to create a space in us in which we can encounter our spiritual discomforts: mainly, the realization that we are not yet fully the disciples of Jesus that he has called us to be.  Our challenge this week, therefore, is to embrace the words of Thomas the Apostle: “Let us go also to die with him.”  Friends, let us let go of our anxiety to wrest control over this situation and instead empty ourselves, like slaves, and bear the cross of this pandemic in solidarity with our brothers and sisters throughout the world; and let us go also with Jesus to die with him, so that we might glorify God—and be glorified by him—on the day of Resurrection.

Given at Saint Mary’s Cathedral: Lafayette, IN – April 5^th, 2020