Sunday Readings


I'm in Lourdes 29 April- 5 May
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Hands On

God has designed us in a wonderful way. We know that He holds the whole world in His hands but we often forget that we know the world through ours. Think about: how did we learn to tie our shoes? Or write with a pen? Or find our way in a dim room? Our hands, our sense of touch, is the key to knowledge. In fact, all of our senses speak to us and teach us like no book ever could. Think about the best doctors and nurses we’ve had. They are the ones who are qualified by education and experience because they are in direct contact with their patients. They listen and touch and use their senses to discover what is right and what is wrong with the people they work with. Their personal experience is combined with the solid principles of science. Instinctively, we trust them because we can see a certain integrity in their professionalism.

Integrity is at the heart of the Christian message. The founders of our faith had a truly hands-on experience of the risen Christ. And building upon this experience, the Gospel left the upper room and went out to the ends of the earth. Eventually, almost all of them in the upper room would die as martyrs to the faith. Century after century, others would join their ranks. Their lives were not sacrificed for an idea or theory or anything of that sort. Those who have taught this faith throughout the ages did not spend their lives teaching a fairytale or a philosophical system. And so many Christians over time, in countless small ways, have carried on that same integrity and consistency in the daily attempt to live our faith. In all humility, I believe we can say that we attempt today to join in this chorus.

This Easter faith is something, isn’t it? The witness of real people trying to live this faith is powerful indeed. We go so far as to say that some are witnessing so powerfully we call them “living saints.” In our own day, we have seen such examples. We have been inspired to be stronger by the courage of Pope John Paul the Great as he stood up against the evils of worldwide Communist dictatorships. We likewise found an example of superlative charity in his good friend Mother Teresa of Calcutta. We look in the past to the saints whose biographies give hope for a better humanity. We see the possibility of treating our fellow human beings with dignity as we look to the example of Father Damien of Molokai and Jeanne Jugan – who will be canonize together this October in Rome. And the list can go on for too long.

The experience of the faith is inseparable from the truth of the faith. Of course, we have to be careful here. It is too easy to identify our experience of God as the only reliable truth of religion. God is much bigger than just you and I. What our experience does is witness to the truth of the faith. We cannot expect others to believe that God is love if we are incapable of loving. We cannot tell each other to be joyful if we cannot see beyond our own misery. We cannot proclaim that “Christ is risen!” if we live as if death is the final answer. No, those first disciples touched and discovered what religion had taught. And because they did, so can we.

This Wednesday I am privileged to once again experience our faith witnessing to the power of the resurrection. I will be flying to Lourdes where I will once again see a gospel witness to Easter. Members of the order of Malta will bring over 50 sick people – men women and children – to this place of healing. The sick will be treated like royalty and their every need, as far as it is possible, will be attended. The members, volunteers, and caregivers will find an unspoken joy in this service which is neither easy nor light. I know, because two years ago I was one of the sick people. What I saw (and continued to see) is the tangible evidence that faith, hope, and love are not merely possible but possibly normal. And I know (from both sides) the power of this experience.

But no one needs to cross an ocean for this resurrection testimony. Each day we rarely have to leave our neighborhood or even our home to find the opportunity for a hands-on experience of the power of the risen Christ. Yes, that witness is loudest when charity and care of the sick and those in distress is tangible. But that small random act of kindness to a stranger or a word of encouragement to a friend is no less powerful. And it is precisely in these events that the history of the world can be changed.

If we are going to sing “Alleluia” for the next four weeks (and we will), every witness of faith will be an echo of that Alleluia. Imagine not a world of unbounded kindness but a life of living witness to the Easter power of love. John Lennon may have said that “it’s easy if you try.” But we don’t have to. We have it on very good authority that God already has.

Sunday Readings
Triduum 2009 - HERE
Lenten Series 2009 - Glory Speak - Doxology - HERE


Fearless Mercy

The Gospel today has one subtle but very powerful remark about the disciples. One week after seeing and witnessing the resurrected Jesus, they are still behind locked doors. It is rather easy for us to call Thomas the “ doubting Thomas” as if he was at fault for not believing. But why would he? I mean “you’re telling me that Jesus Christ has conquered sin and death itself, but you are afraid to take the latch off the door? Who are trying to kid?” Thomas may have doubted their words because their actions were speaking loudly a very different message.

But this is not a gospel about blame. This gospel is about that difficult next step in the Easter mystery. This is the gospel of divine mercy. By faith, we can believe that Jesus Christ took upon Himself the sins of the world on Good Friday. By faith, we can also believe that in the power of the resurrection, our sins are forgiven. But it is never an easy thing to have faith in the mercy of God. It is difficult to profess the goodness of God when things can be so bad. Religion - even the Christian religion - is too often like a political talk show: we can easily point out the bad but would never dare to do what is good. Negative religion can be fun for some when it points out sin and merely nods to the possibility of absolution. And even our practice of the faith can proclaim that our God will remove the guilt of our mistakes but we should not hope for more than that.

So even forgiven Easter people can be locked in fear believing that not even God will be good to them. They tremble at the memory of their sins that God Himself has chosen to forget. To play on the words of a country song, we fear the “the worst of our memories get the best of God.”

Divine Mercy is the love God shows the people he has forgiven and redeemed. His grace has saved us from the hell of hopelessness in order to be caught up to the glory of eternal life. Mercy says, “yes your sins are forgiven. And now that they are forgiven, can you see what I am calling you to? Can you hear my gospel to turn away from sin AND to grow closer to me.” Mercy doesn’t just admit us into the kingdom of God; it also gives us a throne and a crown.

You know, people are always speaking about “building confidence” and “becoming a stronger person.” Both are worthy goals because there is something in us that makes us ask if we are okay, if we are acceptable. None of us are ever really free of this. That is why we at times can emotionally feel lonely or bored or forgotten. What happens in our spiritual life can be very much the same. We at times can feel that we are on our own or that God H does not have any special plans for us or even notice us. The mercy of the resurrected Christ speaks to our hearts a word of trust. Trust that our merciful God never forgets us even when we forget him. Trust that our God has great plans for us even if we never planned on it. The image of Divine Mercy is the risen Christ appearing to us with the offer of the grace of his resurrected glory. He calls us to trust in Him; to follow Hs example and turn our backs on the locked door of our fear. We cannot step out in faith until we unlock that door. We cannot make this pilgrimage to heaven if we never have the trust to leave the darkness of our self-doubt.

So maybe this Divine Mercy Sunday, this Sunday of the doubting Thomas is not really about a disciple who has questions about the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Maybe this Sunday is the story of disciples who question the ability of the all-powerful God to be good even to them. Jesus says, “trust Me and trust in My love for you. Trust Me enough to believe that I accept you and unlock the paralyzing fear that you are not good enough. Have faith that I trust you to show this same goodness to others so that you may be the answer to another person’s prayers.”

You know, our world and our own lives have so many needs, so many things lacking. But throughout the ups and downs of markets and nations, the human heart still needs to know by faith that we are known to God. That never seems to change. And neither does His mercy. Each person, each one of us, is here today because we already have -- in whatever way that we have – begun to know that mercy and our need for it. That is why we echo that ancient prayer of praise of all the redeemed:

Give thanks to the Lord for He is good;
His mercy endureth forever.

Sunday Readings
Triduum 2009 - HERE
Lenten Series 2009 - Glory Speak - Doxology - HERE

Violent Hope

Another Easter has come. There have been a few half-hearted attempts to commercialize this day, but for the most part, the attention of the nation has been focused on opening day for the new baseball season. To be honest, I’m rather happy about that. They already stole Christmas and I am not willing to give them Easter. But think of all the things Easter can buy: new clothes, new hats, and more candy than any one person should consume. But somehow, it just never caught on. I also think there is a deeper reason. If you take all the symbols of Easter – even the ones that can be made into chocolate and sold – they speak of new life. Well, if you’re going to speak of new life that implies that the old life is over. And if the old life is over, then it must be because something was wrong with it.

This unspoken confession wrapped in the symbolism of the secular and even pagan appreciation of springtime is given voice in the “Alleluias’ we sing today. We have spent 40 days of Lent bravely admitting that things in fact are not right. We have asked for mercy because we need it. We looked within and found fault as easily as we looked around and saw disaster. And because we have, we come with faith to sing of Christ’s redemption. It is His victory over the old life which gives us the privilege -- and even the obligation – to sing of a new life. Yes, we are still the same people with the same faults (or at least the same tendencies to have the same faults). Even with these, we sing the Resurrection song. We are sinners speaking of sanctity.

Does it seem like a contradiction? Perhaps but only if we do not take this feast for what it is. If Jesus Christ did not physically rise from the dead you have wasted a perfectly good morning that could have been spent better in bed. If they found the bones of Jesus, I doubt there is a sin I wouldn’t commit. I said this a few years ago during an Easter homily and a once-a-year-parishioner told me how offended he was that I said something like this. I asked him why he was offended and he responded that, “Father, what would God think of your behavior?” I told him that, “if Jesus Christ is not physically raised from the dead, the God I worship is a lie.” If Jesus Christ did not burst the gates of hell on Easter morning, then hell is the best any of us can hope for.

But because our faith proclaims – as do we – that Jesus in fact is risen, what we hope for is more than the best we can conceive. Hope is the right of those who have faith. It is not soft and fluffy like a marshmallow peep or comfortable pillow. Hope is an act of violence. It destroys what opposes it and defends itself from the onslaught of despair. Hope is not surprised by Good Friday. And people who know the promise of the resurrected Savior also know a sacred intolerance to the supremacy of the ordinary. Regardless of reasons, popularity, and even personal experience, we still hope.

Yesterday, I went to St. Joseph’s Seminary in Yonkers for the solemn celebration of morning prayer on Holy Saturday known as “Tenebrae.” At a certain point, one of the cantors sings a selection from the Lamentations of the prophet Jeremiah. He used an ancient tone tracing its origins to the Middle-East and the culture Jesus Himself would have known. He was singing mournfully of the destruction of Jerusalem and the Babylonian exile. At a certain point, he sang of the innocent victims of this tragedy and the children left behind. Right next to me was a couple I know with their five-month-old son. With perfect timing, little David started laughing very loudly. There were smiles all over the back third of the chapel. And if you are smiling when you hear that, I believe that you have more than a sense of humor. I believe that you have the hope of Easter.

Oh, and I have it on good authority, that God was smiling as well.

Happy Easter.

Triduum 2009 Page is HERE

Due to the Passion today, there is no homily.

The Triduum Page (go to my HOME page) will be up on Maunday Thursday