PENTECOST SUNDAY – B – May 19,2024

A reading from the Acts of the Apostles 2:1-11
A reading from the first Letter of St. Paul to the corinthians 12:3b-7, 12-13
A reading from the holy Gospel according to John 20:19-23

(or)

A reading from the holy Gospel according to John 15:26-27; 16:12-15

Dear Friends in Christ,

We were talking about Pentecost.  I had read today’s first reading to the class of 5th graders and asked them what they thought.  There was a long pause before a boy near the back of the room raised his hand  and asked, “Was there a lot of damage when it was over?”

Not a bad question, really.  Think about it.  There came from the sky a noise like strong driving wind and it filled the entire house where they were.  Then there appeared to them tongues as of fire, which parted and came to rest on each of them.  I don’t know about you, but the combination sounds a bit terrifying to me.  The boy’s vivid imagination caught that, too.  Place yourself in the scene.  Hear the wind howl as it does in a violent storm.  Hear that sound roaring through the house where you are.  What would it be like to sit while fire danced over your head?  I think it would be terrifying.  How about you?  Wouldn’t you wonder what you had gotten yourself into, especially since you knew there was no getting out of what you had begun?

We are very used to thinking of church as a tranquil place of serenity and peace.  We get irritated if a baby cries and fractures the silence.  How many will glare at the parents if they do not hasten to the crying-room (an awful invention, really).

The truth is, there should be nothing tranquil about it.  What would be the result if what we believe happens in the course of our Liturgy were to happen really?  Imagine the heavens rending.  Hear God’s voice which, in the Scriptures, often has the rumble of thunder about it.  Think about how we would feel if we saw clearly the gap between the gospel’s challenge and the life we are living.  The Eucharist celebrated is about giving thanks to od in the midst of dying and rising and transformation.  We lull ourselves into passivity by dulling the words’ meaning.  Dying?  Rising?  Transformation?  All many Assemblies want to do is get through the hour.  If Mass lasts under an hour, so much the better.  Let the important activities for Sunday begin.

“Was there a lot of damage when it was over?”  Sure there was.  The lives of each person present would never be the same.  The former had been blown away.  The fire burned in their hearts; and they knew they could not contain it.  They had to rush out into the public places and begin to live the new reality.  That is what we are supposed to do at the Eucharist’s conclusion.  We are sent to live what has transpired.  We are sent to be the Body of Christ in the market place;  the body, blessed, broken, and distributed for all to eat.  In the Pentecost scene, all those people from various places who spoke different tongues heard a language from those transformed disciples that they understood.  The language was love.

An aside, for a moment.  Remember that song from many years ago?  “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.  That’s the only thing that there’s just too little of.”  Watch the evening news and hear those words.  It is not only the wars which are horrible in their own way.  It’s the racism and sexism.  It is the violence in the streets.  It is the domestic violence, the horrors of mothers killing their children.  Where are the people living on the streets supposed to go?  Many are working two jobs and still can’t afford rent.  And what about all those struggling to survive at the borders?  

Pentecost has happened for most of us.  It happened when we came out of the Font, when the oil flowed over us, when we were called by name as God’s beloved ones.  We had responded to God’s action in our lives.  It was not as a result of our own doing.  That is what Paul tells us in the second reading, from his Letter to the Corinthians.  No one can say, “Jesus is Lord,” except by the Holy Spirit.  In other words, no one can be even an incipient believer, except by the grace of God.  But that grace comes with the expectation that it will translate into action that will reveal the one Body of Christ continuing to act in these times.

It is a wonderful thing to take pride in the fact that there are over a billion of us Catholics in the world.  What do you think would be the impact on the world if all one billion of us let the grace of Pentecost, the graces of Baptism and Confirmation dictate how we lived, and our relationships with our sisters and brothers at large?  How could wars continue if a billion people determined to love their enemies and do good to those who hate them?  What would happen to starvation suffered by two-thirds of the world’s population if we believed that we did not have a right to excess, as long as our brothers and sisters lacked basic necessities for survival?  In the United States, racism and sexism would not survive if we let Christ, living in us, motivate us by the power of the Spirit, to love all as sisters and brothers in the one family of God.  Pope Francis has said, “Only love can save us.”

Who is Jesus talking to when he says, I was hungry and you fed me, naked and you clothed me?  Did you see Jesus lying face down on the cement with the knee on his neck?  Did you see him struggling through the barbed wire trying to get to the United States?

How long would it take for a difference to become apparent if one billion people became convinced of their responsibility for the well being of the planet?  Would it take that long for a reduction in the emission of greenhouse gases?  Add any other of the evils that plague society, those that are a result of human decision making.  If love ruled, every one of them would be impacted.  I believe that.

As you witness to Christ’s presence in the Word this Sunday, hear the Lord say to you, As the Father has sent me, so I send you.  The temptation is to stand there and imagine that we are listening to an account of a historical moment.  That is not what is meant by the Living Word.  What we are hearing is in the now.  Jesus, risen, speaks to this Assembly in this upper room.  Jesus speaks to you and to me.  We are sent to act in Christ’s behalf, or better, as Christ’s other self.

We have saints in our church’s calendar.  Who are they?  Unfortunately for many, they are icons, distant and remote, with halos around their heads.  It is true that some of them should be left that way because there is little in their lives with which to identify.  But most of the saints should be read so that we might imagine ourselves doing what they did.  The real saints faced human issues and responded practically.  Maybe practically isn’t the accurate word.  They responded with love.  As I have loved you, so must you love one another.  The saints took that as the norm.  So should we.

Pentecost has happened for most of us.  Perhaps you did not hear the wind, or see the fire, but the Spirit took up residence in your heart.  Jesus breathes on you over and over again, and says, Peace be with you.  With the Spirit comes peace.  The gift of God’s Peace means we have nothing to fear, as long as we act in union with Christ.  Just as Jesus faced death on the cross, confident of the Father’s love for him, so can we face whatever terrifies us, confident of that same love.

Just imagine the difference after this feast of Pentecost if one billion of us went out and committed ourselves to being reconcilers and forgivers.  That is the challenge of the Gospel we hear.  That is what Jesus expects of those he breathes upon, of those he sends.

Will there be much damage when this Pentecost is over?  I guess it depends on what we are hanging on to.

Sincerely yours in Christ,

Didymus

THE ASCENSION OF THE LORD – B – May 12, 2024

A reading from the Acts of the Apostles 1:1-11
A reading from the Letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians 1: 17-23

(or)

A reading from the Letter of St. Paul to the Ephesians 4:1-13
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Mark 16:15-20

Dear Friends in Christ,

There are two misconceptions about the Feast of the Ascension of the Lord.  One is that the feast proclaims that the Lord is taken up, up, and away.  The other is the assumption that the event we celebrate is one of a completion, an event that is over only to be recalled in our celebrations of faith.  Both ideas serve to distance us from what we are supposed to experience and come to believe on this holy day.

We are used to thinking of Heaven as a place way up there, perhaps among the stars, and definitely out of reach.  There are thrones in heaven.  God sits on one and looks down on us from the ethereal regions.  It is definitely “other” there.

Jesus proclaimed another reality revealed in his incarnation.  Two realms, the divine and human, are joined forever when the word becomes flesh.  Today’s gospel, the conclusion of Mark, speaks of the Lord Jesus’ presence in those who believe.  These signs will accompany those who believe: in my name they will drive out demons, they will speak new languages…They will lay hands on the sick and they will recover.  The Risen Jesus empowers believers and works through them.  Where Jesus is, so too are the Father and the Spirit.  Where God is, Heaven is.  If we focus on the remoteness of Heaven and of God, it is transcendence upon which we focus.  That keeps God and all things holy at a distance.  Adoration is our primary response in Faith.

After Jesus commissions the believers, he sends them on their mission to proclaim the Good News.  Then he ascends into heaven and takes his seat at the right hand of God.  The mission begins while the Lord worked with them and confirmed their preaching with signs.  

There are two dimensions to this faith-life to which we are called.  Jesus beyond the clouds points to the God of transcendence.  Jesus speaking of being with us and working through us, points to immanence.  My felt need is to focus on the latter.  Again, it has to do with the wonder of intimacy that inspires me.  The image of clouds shielding the resurrected Jesus from our sight is important.  His presence will no longer be a physical one.  Luke made that quite clear in the account of the experience  of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus.  Jesus showed them that fellow journeyers might not recognize their Companion, even if their hearts burn in the presence.  Jesus showed them that his presence would be sacramental, one to be recognized in the Breaking of the Bread.

Our celebration of Sunday Eucharist always renews the Emmaus experience.  The Assembly gathers around the Table.  The meal makes possible an intimacy with God and the whole Body of Christ that the Assembly represents.  They, we share One Bread and One Cup.  The image that John uses at the beginning of his Gospel is important.  The Word became flesh and pitched his tent among us.  Jesus is among us as one who serves and reveals a God who wants to serve.  This is not a god who wants to be served.

In John’s Gospel, the icon is there.  Jesus washes the feet of the disciples.  He does not lie back and wait for the disciples to wash his feet.  It is about service, about living in relationship, and about living the love we have learned through example.  As I have done to you, so ought you do for one another.  The transformation of the World began.

We do not find God primarily in church.  We do not find Jesus primarily there either.  We celebrate there the Presence we found elsewhere.  In the church of splendor, many of the seekers do not feel the presence.  That is precisely why the Bishop of Rome urges reform and the putting off of splendor, as we become a poorer church serving the needs of the poor.  In too many ages, the Church has exemplified splendor and power.  The transcendent God gives the poor something to hope for, at least in Heaven.  Pope Francis washes feet and kisses them as he dries them – the feet of young prisoners, some male, some female.  Some Christians, some not.  When the Church becomes poorer, when the Church becomes a servant Church, the seekers will find and experience that for which they search.

Many saints journaled about their experience of recognizing Jesus in the most unlikely subjects.  The downtrodden seem to be the clearest transmitters of the reality.  Francis of Assisi kissed the leper.  Bernard cut his cloak in half and gave half to the beggar.  Catherine of Sienna and Theresa of Avila had their encounters, too.  St. Theresa of Calcutta said that when she ministered to the dying destitute, she ministered to Christ in his passion.  The lesson is clear.  At least it will become so if we are willing to deal with the implications.  Then the clouds will part for us.  We will be empowered to see that Heaven begins in the here and now.  Our God is immanent.

This brings me to the second observation.  The Ascension of the Lord is not a once-for-all action, completed over 2000 years ago, meant to be for us to celebrate these many centuries later.  Jesus ascends in an action that transcends time and is, therefore, timeless.  That is true of all that Jesus does.  His dying and rising are ongoing.  So, too, are his resurrection and ascension.  In our sacramental celebrations we enter into them.  Jesus does not suffer all over again, and then die on the altars.  The whole Mystery is celebrated there.  Our communion is with the Whole Mystery and is meant to be lived.

The challenge for us as individuals and as Church remains the same as it has been from the beginning.  First, we must recognize the wonderful thing that happens to us in Baptism.  We are given a spirit of wisdom and revelation resulting in knowledge of (Jesus Christ).  This knowledge of Jesus Christ is one of union with Jesus Christ.  Remember what Jesus said to Philip when he asked Jesus to show them the Father.  Philip, those who see me see the Father.  The challenge for the baptized is to recognize that they are the Body of Christ and Christ’s message should come forth from their lips to all they meet.  Is there any greater challenge, especially in these troubled and violent times, then to see as your task to live so that all those who see you see Jesus?  It is almost as great as the challenge to see Jesus in those little ones, those suffering in Gaza.  Those suffering in Ukraine.  Those impoverished ones living on the streets.  Those children starving to death.  Those languishing at the southern borders.

If the faithful, the body of Christ in the world today, obeyed the commandment to love one another as I have loved you, the world would be transformed in the experience of the reign of God.  As long as it takes, Jesus will continue his ascension.  The task will not be completed until time has run its course and all things are caught up in Mystery.

This is not likely to happen while we are on our knees.  The unfolding will happen when we are in the trenches, so to speak, doing the work, identifying with those to whom we minister, experiencing their poverty, supporting their waning hope as they wait at the borders, supporting those gasping for oxygen, reminding all the suffering ones that they are God’s beloved.  And we haven’t even talked about the need for this love to be universal.  The challenge is to recognize that all people are related as sisters and brothers, in this one God who creates all and loves all who are created in God’s image and likeness.

Perhaps we will talk more about this on another day.  In fact, that is very likely.

Sincerely yours in the Risen Christ,

Didymus

SIXTH SUNDAY OF EASTER – B – May 5, 2024

A reading from the Acts of the Apostles 10:25-26, 34-35, 44-48
A reading from the first Letter of John 4:7-10
A reading from the holy Gospel according to John 15:9-17

Dear Friends in Christ,

As the Father loves me, so I also love you.  Remain in my love.  A verb’s tense has everything to do with the impact of the statement.  Here the tense is present active.  That means it is happening now and is on going.  The words are addressed to you.  Hear what Jesus is saying to you.  Dare to believe it.

But there is a problem.  Sometimes we need immediate experiences to support what faith declares.  If one has never known what it means to be loved, how can they accept that they are loved by God?  When all the signs point the contrary, it is easy to conclude that they are unlovable, even are beyond the pale of God’s love.  Or, perhaps. God has stopped loving.

Many years ago I taught a religious education class in a prison.  I was young, naive, and convinced of my ability, dare I say, my gift for teaching.  In an early class, I used the above text as my starting point.  I wanted to awaken in the hearts of my hearers a sense of their worth in God’s eyes.  I rhapsodized about the wonders of the Father’s love.  The group grew restive.  One man crossed his arms and legs and turned to the side, signaling that he was tuning out.  Others found different ways to convey the same message.  Some rolled cigarettes and proceeded to light up.  The hour dragged on interminably, and so did I.  Invitations for questions or responses fell like millstones in a pond.  At last the bell sounded that ended the class.  One by one, the inmates rose and walked out.  Not one said a word to me.  No one said, “See you next week.”

Devastated, I made my way to the director’s office and poured out the details of my failure, protesting all the while how well I had prepared for the presentation.  Silence.  He drummed his fingers on his desk.  I fidgeted.  Then he looked up at me and said, “What did you expect?”  I told him that I thought the class would be moved, comforted, even consoled, as I reminded them how they were loved by the Father, just the way the Father loves Jesus.  But they would not hear me.  When I squirmed like a fish on the end of a line, he smiled and asked, “Do you know what their experience of ‘father’ is?”  My response was a blank stare.  The director went on to explain what now seems obvious.  “You have a good experience of fatherhood from your own father.  Am I correct?  So it is easy for you to transfer that experience to God.  Many of these men have no such experience in their memory.  Some have no memory of a father in their lives.  Some remember an abusive father.  They can’t make the leap you ask of them, to accept that God loves them like a father.  They have no idea what that means.”

What your present situation is may determine how you will hear this Sunday’s gospel.  If you know what it means to be loved, if you know what it means to be accepted for who and what you are, if you are secure in relationship, if life is going reasonably well for you, you might be able to revel in this text.  As the Father loves me, so do I love you.  If, on the other hand, things are not going well, if a primary relationship in your life has failed, if nothing is happening that speaks to your dignity and worth, then you might just be tempted to cry out, “Prove it.”  Or do what the inmates did, turn away and tune out.

There is no easy answer.  Sometimes the demands of faith mean to believe in spite of so many signs to the contrary.  I think of those many stranded and isolated at the borders, seeking asylum.  I think of young people caught in sex trafficking.  I think of all those suffering in Gaza and Ukraine, and of the children starving to death, as their parents look helplessly on. 

Look at Jesus, the one we believe in.  Where were the tangible signs that the Father loved him?  There may have been crowds.  There may have been miracles that followed his touch and his command.  But all in all, in the eyes of many, he was a failure.  Some said he was crazy.  Some said he was possessed by the devil.  No wonder he took to the hills and spent nights alone in prayer.  How else could he rest in, and be strengthened by, that love that was his source and his life?  The Agony in the Garden was Jesus’ torment that the ultimate failure he faced in his impending arrest and crucifixion might be construed to be a sign of the absence of the Father’s love.  The Father could will to let this cup pass from Jesus without his having to drink.  Easter proved to be his vindication. 

Could that be why Jesus says to us, Remain in my love?  How do we do that?  By loving the way Jesus loves.  Love is not a feeling.  It is a decision.  The decision means pouring yourself out in service of others because that is what Jesus does.  It means making a fundamental option for the poor because you recognize Jesus in the poor.  It means affirming that the poor are your brothers and sisters in God’s family, as are those of every race and nation, gender and creed.  It means loving the ones society deems unlovable, the outcasts, the scorned, and the shunned.  It means forgiving the unforgivable.  Even if what they do to you feels like crucifixion.  No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.

In spite of whatever else hight happen, listen to what Jesus says in this sixth week of the Easter celebration.  To follow Jesus means to keep his commandments.  His commandments are not the Decalogue, not that they are negated; but the fact is, Jesus has only one commandment: Love one another as I have loved you.  By this will all know that you are my disciples.  The result will be an ongoing loving relationship with Jesus.  Some would rather think of themselves as Jesus’ slaves, as being subservient to Jesus.  But, believe it or not, that is not what Jesus wants.  I have called you friends, because I have told you everything I have heard from my Father.  Can you accept the fact that you are an equal with Jesus, a co-heir with Jesus; and like Jesus, you are God’s beloved?  Pretty heady stuff, isn’t it?  Heady or not, this is what this gospel proclaims.

If we enter into Easter and believe, there are a number of things we have to accept.  These can be boiled down to basic truths; we are God’s friends, God’s intimates, and God’s children.  That means a different kind of relationship from one we might first have thought was ours when we first came to believe.  What becomes apparent is that our God is not one who wants to lord it over people, to have people grovel before God.  Ours is a God who pleads with us to let God be our God, so that we can be God’s people.  Would you believe that God wants to serve us rather than to be served?  Think of the Last Supper, and who it was who washed the disciples’ feet.  All God asks of us is to do what might seem the impossible were it not for the fact that Jesus empowers us when we live in his love.

What did I do to deserve this?  In this context, that is not a bad question to ask.  Still, the answer should astound.  You and I did nothing to deserve this.  It did not begin with us.  It began with God, and with God’s son, Jesus.  It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will endure.  See yourself seated under the fig tree, and hear Jesus tell you that he saw you there before you knew anything about Jesus.  That is what Jesus said to Nathan.  Nathan heard and believed.

You did not find God.  God found you.  God seized you; identified you with Jesus, and loves you with the same love he has for Jesus.  Like it or not, that is the way it is.  There may not be that much going on in your life right now that would support that fact, but the fact remains.  There might not be that much positive going on in the world right now that would support that fact, but the fact remains.  You are the beloved of God.

There is a paradox that I leave you with today.  You cannot rest in this love.  You must live it.  If you rest in it, you will begin to doubt it.  If you live it and pour yourself out in imitation of that love, others will come to believe that love, too, even when you are finding it hardest to believe.  They are the fruit that remains.  Many of those we call saints endured long periods of darkness that terrified.  St. Theresa of Avila.  St. John of the Cross.  St. Teresa of Calcutta.  St. Ignatius of Loyola.  Charles de Foucault.  And many more.  Their dark nights increased their capacity to love and be loved.  That may not be a comfort now, in the midst of your struggle.

Perhaps what you have to do is use Jesus’ words as a mantra in your prayer; As the Father loves me, so I love you.  Remain in my love.  Could this be the challenge that inspires the teaching coming from Pope Francis?  Is this what he sees in a poorer Church serving the needs of the poor?  In the end it is about love.

So we assemble at the Table, actually or virtually, to continue our Easter celebration.  We do what Jesus does.  We take bread, bless it, and break it.  We bless the cup.  Jesus continues to pour himself out for us.  We take and eat.  We take and drink.  Renewed and refreshed, we are sent to do this in my memory.  We are sent to do this until Jesus comes in glory to take us to live in that love in a glory that will never end.

Sincerely yours in the Risen Christ,

Didymus