Wednesday in the Octave of Easter
(Acts 3:1-10; Luke 24:13-35)
Some of us may be disappointed that the gospels do not give a physical description of Jesus. Try as we might, we never find a word about his stature, his complexion, or any distinguishing mannerism, other than that he spoke with authority. Once a journalist wrote that he was short since the Gospel of Luke mentions that Zacchaeus has to climb a tree to see him. However, the more common interpretation of this story is that Zacchaeus is the little guy.
Perhaps since Jesus is so nondescript in the gospels, it should not strike us as altogether peculiar that his disciples do not recognize him at first glance after the resurrection. Both Mary Magdalene in yesterday’s gospel reading from St. John and the two disciples today in Luke’s gospel fail to distinguish the Lord from ordinary people. Until he speaks with his old authority, that is. Then his words go straight to the heart. Mary is lifted out of her fog of grief when he mentions her name. The disciples too achieve insight as he blesses and breaks the bread.
We are used to seeing pictures of a long-haired, blue-eyed, bearded Jesus, but these are surely idealized portraits. Rather than seek his image, we should listen for his words. He calls us by name in Baptism as surely as he calls Mary Magdalene in the graveyard. He pronounces the same blessing over the bread and wine in the Eucharist as he does for the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Like these disciples, we are commissioned to tell others of his resurrection. As peculiar as it may sound, we are to say that he is the one whom we visit at mass. We hear his words in the gospel, and we shake his hand in the breaking of the bread.
Homilette for Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Tuesday in the Octave of Easter
(Acts 2:36-41; John 20:11-18)
A teacher was worried about her job. Economic realities had forced her school district to announce pending cuts of a considerable number of teaching positions. The woman knew that she was competent; indeed, she had received a number of teaching awards. But she was unsure whether her fifteen years of service were enough seniority to survive a brute competition of credentials. The woman prayed and started thinking about how she might cut back her lifestyle in case she was let go. It turned out, however, that she not only retained her job but was given a sizeable raise in salary.
Mary Magdalene’s search for the dead Jesus in the gospel today likewise results in more than she imagined possible. Her devotion to the Lord takes her to his tomb. Evidently she hopes only to be near his remains for in John’s gospel no mention is made of Mary Magdalene’s coming to anoint Jesus nor does it say that she expects the covering stone to be removed. Her faithfulness, however, brings more consolation than she could have ever hoped for. Joy fills her heart as she recognizes her risen Lord.
Life is full of uncertainty and setbacks. As much as we would like to avoid them, we simply cannot. However, we can be faithful to our Lord in these trials with prayer and our best daily efforts. Then, like the teacher in today’s world and Mary Magdalene in the gospel, we too are likely to be surprised by more benefit than we ever thought possible.
(Acts 2:36-41; John 20:11-18)
A teacher was worried about her job. Economic realities had forced her school district to announce pending cuts of a considerable number of teaching positions. The woman knew that she was competent; indeed, she had received a number of teaching awards. But she was unsure whether her fifteen years of service were enough seniority to survive a brute competition of credentials. The woman prayed and started thinking about how she might cut back her lifestyle in case she was let go. It turned out, however, that she not only retained her job but was given a sizeable raise in salary.
Mary Magdalene’s search for the dead Jesus in the gospel today likewise results in more than she imagined possible. Her devotion to the Lord takes her to his tomb. Evidently she hopes only to be near his remains for in John’s gospel no mention is made of Mary Magdalene’s coming to anoint Jesus nor does it say that she expects the covering stone to be removed. Her faithfulness, however, brings more consolation than she could have ever hoped for. Joy fills her heart as she recognizes her risen Lord.
Life is full of uncertainty and setbacks. As much as we would like to avoid them, we simply cannot. However, we can be faithful to our Lord in these trials with prayer and our best daily efforts. Then, like the teacher in today’s world and Mary Magdalene in the gospel, we too are likely to be surprised by more benefit than we ever thought possible.
Homilette for Monday, April 13, 2009
Monday in the Octave of Easter
(Acts 2:14.22-33; Matthew 28:18-15)
Wars change territorial maps. After almost any war the victors annex disputed lands while the vanquished forego their claims. After World War I, for example, France, Poland, Demark, Belgium, and Czechoslovakia gained possession of lands from Germany. The resurrection of Jesus also brings about change. It alters not exterior but interior maps of everyone illumined by its brilliance. We see clear change in Peter as he boldly preaches Jesus in the reading from Acts today.
Of course, the proclamation takes place when Peter receives the Holy Spirit with the other disciples on Pentecost. But as courage, understanding, and the other gifts are works of the Spirit, so the coming of the Spirit is a function of Jesus’ resurrection. We can view the resurrection and the ascension of Jesus and the descent of the Spirit as one great Easter event with so much content that its wonder becomes appreciable only when we consider them separately.
Peter who denied Jesus at the high priest’s house now tells the Jews openly that Jesus is the long-awaited heir of David. He even has no qualms about charging the Jews with the death of Jesus. However, his purpose is not retribution but forgiveness. He will go on to say that repenting of their sin, they too may receive the same transforming Spirit.
(Acts 2:14.22-33; Matthew 28:18-15)
Wars change territorial maps. After almost any war the victors annex disputed lands while the vanquished forego their claims. After World War I, for example, France, Poland, Demark, Belgium, and Czechoslovakia gained possession of lands from Germany. The resurrection of Jesus also brings about change. It alters not exterior but interior maps of everyone illumined by its brilliance. We see clear change in Peter as he boldly preaches Jesus in the reading from Acts today.
Of course, the proclamation takes place when Peter receives the Holy Spirit with the other disciples on Pentecost. But as courage, understanding, and the other gifts are works of the Spirit, so the coming of the Spirit is a function of Jesus’ resurrection. We can view the resurrection and the ascension of Jesus and the descent of the Spirit as one great Easter event with so much content that its wonder becomes appreciable only when we consider them separately.
Peter who denied Jesus at the high priest’s house now tells the Jews openly that Jesus is the long-awaited heir of David. He even has no qualms about charging the Jews with the death of Jesus. However, his purpose is not retribution but forgiveness. He will go on to say that repenting of their sin, they too may receive the same transforming Spirit.
Homilette for Thursday, April 9, 2009
Holy Thursday – Evening Mass of the Lord’s Supper
(Exodus 12:1-8.11-14; I Corinthians 15:23-26; John 13:1-15)
At a Jewish Passover meal the youngest at table asks, “Why is tonight different from all other nights?” We might make a similar question for our meeting here this evening. How is this mass different from other masses? The answer is, of course, that in this mass we give ourselves in a special way to remembering.
The word remember literally means to put the component parts or members back together. When we remember we recreate what existed in the past to make it present to us now. This evening we remember three events of faith found in the Scripture readings. First, we recall God’s liberating the Israelites from their exile in Egypt. Second, we reestablish Jesus’ initiation of the Eucharist on the night before he died. And finally, we bring to mind Jesus’ astonishing show of humility when he washes his disciples’ feet.
Dogs can remember in a sense, and we regularly pay a false compliment to computers by speaking of their memory. We must distinguish our act of remembering as different from the trivial memories in animals and machines. When we humans remember, we assign meaning to past events and allow the new meanings to shape our lives. In our first memory this evening we understand the liberation of the Israelites as our own deliverance from the captivity of sin accomplished through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Our remembrance of the first Eucharist allows us to imagine the celestial banquet in which we hope to participate with Jesus, the Father, the saints, and all our beloved. Our final instance of remembering shows us to reach our heavenly goal. We are to become like Jesus imitating his service to others in the spirit of love.
(Exodus 12:1-8.11-14; I Corinthians 15:23-26; John 13:1-15)
At a Jewish Passover meal the youngest at table asks, “Why is tonight different from all other nights?” We might make a similar question for our meeting here this evening. How is this mass different from other masses? The answer is, of course, that in this mass we give ourselves in a special way to remembering.
The word remember literally means to put the component parts or members back together. When we remember we recreate what existed in the past to make it present to us now. This evening we remember three events of faith found in the Scripture readings. First, we recall God’s liberating the Israelites from their exile in Egypt. Second, we reestablish Jesus’ initiation of the Eucharist on the night before he died. And finally, we bring to mind Jesus’ astonishing show of humility when he washes his disciples’ feet.
Dogs can remember in a sense, and we regularly pay a false compliment to computers by speaking of their memory. We must distinguish our act of remembering as different from the trivial memories in animals and machines. When we humans remember, we assign meaning to past events and allow the new meanings to shape our lives. In our first memory this evening we understand the liberation of the Israelites as our own deliverance from the captivity of sin accomplished through the death and resurrection of Jesus Christ. Our remembrance of the first Eucharist allows us to imagine the celestial banquet in which we hope to participate with Jesus, the Father, the saints, and all our beloved. Our final instance of remembering shows us to reach our heavenly goal. We are to become like Jesus imitating his service to others in the spirit of love.
Homilette for Friday, April 10, 2009
Good Friday of the Lord’s Passion
(Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 4:14-16; John 18:1-19:42)
A woman confides that she cherishes her Catholic faith but cannot marry in the Church the man she is living with. His refusal to rid himself of vices has convinced her that he does not care about her very much. An elderly gentleman cannot confide anything because Alzheimer’s has deteriorated his mind. At one time he was a ready conversationalist. Now he sits mumbling his name, mostly passive to every question asked of him.
These two as well as the soldier who pierced Jesus’ side, the eyewitness who testifies to the blood and water flowing from Jesus’ side, and the rest of us “’look upon him whom they have pierced.’” All hopefully see more than a man who has suffered a cruel death and more than a martyr who has given his life in testimony to what he believed. All hopefully recognize the son of God Himself completely innocent of wrong-doing yet suffering in obedience to his Father so that the world may have access to eternal life.
Robert Frost wrote, “As long on earth/ As our comparisons were stoutly upward/ With gods and angels, we were men at least,/ But little lower than the gods and angels.” When we fix our eyes on Jesus crucified, we keep our comparison upward. As worthy as we may consider ourselves and as good as others may think of us, we know that in truth we are nowhere near as innocent as he. We even have to acknowledge that our sins, like the soldier’s lance, have contributed to his ordeal. Confessing our sinfulness and admitting our complicity, we become beneficiaries of the grace which the blood and water signify. This grace assures the woman that she can do what is necessary to live with integrity. It strengthens the caregivers of the gentleman with Alzheimer’s to respect his human dignity. And it provides us the spiritual strength to bear our own crosses. This grace finally leads all who accept it to eternal life.
(Isaiah 52:13-53:12; Hebrews 4:14-16; John 18:1-19:42)
A woman confides that she cherishes her Catholic faith but cannot marry in the Church the man she is living with. His refusal to rid himself of vices has convinced her that he does not care about her very much. An elderly gentleman cannot confide anything because Alzheimer’s has deteriorated his mind. At one time he was a ready conversationalist. Now he sits mumbling his name, mostly passive to every question asked of him.
These two as well as the soldier who pierced Jesus’ side, the eyewitness who testifies to the blood and water flowing from Jesus’ side, and the rest of us “’look upon him whom they have pierced.’” All hopefully see more than a man who has suffered a cruel death and more than a martyr who has given his life in testimony to what he believed. All hopefully recognize the son of God Himself completely innocent of wrong-doing yet suffering in obedience to his Father so that the world may have access to eternal life.
Robert Frost wrote, “As long on earth/ As our comparisons were stoutly upward/ With gods and angels, we were men at least,/ But little lower than the gods and angels.” When we fix our eyes on Jesus crucified, we keep our comparison upward. As worthy as we may consider ourselves and as good as others may think of us, we know that in truth we are nowhere near as innocent as he. We even have to acknowledge that our sins, like the soldier’s lance, have contributed to his ordeal. Confessing our sinfulness and admitting our complicity, we become beneficiaries of the grace which the blood and water signify. This grace assures the woman that she can do what is necessary to live with integrity. It strengthens the caregivers of the gentleman with Alzheimer’s to respect his human dignity. And it provides us the spiritual strength to bear our own crosses. This grace finally leads all who accept it to eternal life.
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