Author: Fr. Scott Hurd

For whatever reason, my garage’s light switch is in the kitchen. One night, while I was in the garage, running on our treadmill, someone accidentally flipped off the lights. For a few scary moments, I found myself in complete darkness, running fast, but going absolutely nowhere.

My experience is a metaphor, I think, for how many people live their lives today: they run around like crazy, but their lives have no real purpose or direction. Kind of like running on a treadmill, in the dark.

Jesus, in today’s gospel, said that he didn’t want people to “remain in darkness.” That’s why “he came into the world as light.” By believing in Jesus, we know what life is about, and we know the direction in which our lives should go, because Jesus lights the way. With Jesus, our lives have purpose, peace, and hope.

Living in darkness can be frightening. My children sometimes admit that they’re a little afraid of the dark, and I completely understand. They prefer to sleep with a light on. Jesus invites us to do the same thing: to keep the light on- his light- to scatter the fear that darkness brings.

As Pope Benedict assures us: “(Christ’s) light will dispel all darkness from your lives, and fill you with love and peace.”[1]

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/051811.shtml

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[1] Ubi et Orbi message, 12/25/07

Sheep, to many Americans, are weak, subservient, and dim-witted creatures. We say “to follow like sheep” when describing unthinking, spineless loyalty. To look “sheepish,” is to look guilty. That’s why when Jesus refers to his followers as sheep, we’re not always sure how to respond.

Jesus and his contemporaries, however, held sheep in high esteem. Sheep were considered honorable and noble animals, because they suffer in silence and are obedient to their shepherds. Some were kept as household pets, and were fed by hand. Ownership of sheep was a sign of wealth. They were offered in sacrifice, not because they were worthless, but because they were so valuable. Jesus himself was called the “lamb of God.”

By calling us sheep, then, Jesus isn’t putting us down. Instead, he’s speaking of how precious we are to him; it’s a reflection of his love. In today’s gospel, he insists that we, his sheep, are the Father’s gift to him. We’re so valuable, that no one can snatch us out of his hand; we’re so treasured, that he gives us eternal life, to be with him forever.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/051711.shtml

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One evening some years ago, Stephanie my wife prayed for guidance as to whether or not she should return to work part time. The very next morning, an absolutely perfect job practically fell into her lap. To us, this was an obvious sign from God. Yet that night, as we adjusted our family budget to reflect Stephanie’s new income, what did we start to do? We started to worry about money. God had just answered our prayer and shown us how much he cares for us. But still we didn’t “get it.” Finally, we looked at each other and said with exasperation, “What are we doing?” What we weren’t doing is trusting in Jesus, which is what he constantly invites us to do. That’s why he calls himself the good shepherd.

The image of Jesus as the “good shepherd” tells us quite a bit about what he wants our relationship with him to be like. I was once reminded of this very early in my ministry, while I served a small Texas church, smack in the middle of cattle country. There were real cowboys in my parish, and one day one of them said to me, “You know, Father there’s a reason Jesus never said: ‘I am the good cowboy.’” Cows, he explained, are very obstinate creatures. To get them going in the right direction, they need to be pushed and poked from behind- sometimes with an electric prodder! Sheep, however, are very different from cows. When they hear their shepherd’s call, they happily follow his lead. Just like Jesus said in today’s gospel: “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.” In other words, Jesus doesn’t want to have to push us like cows. Instead, he wants us to follow him like sheep.

The beautiful 23^rd Psalm, which we just prayed together, speaks to us of how Jesus our shepherd cares for us when we trust and follow him. In an often reprinted Reader’s Digest article from over fifty years ago, one old shepherd explained that the psalm’s author obviously knew sheep and shepherds of the Holy Land very well.

Good shepherds, he said, lead their flocks to green pastures where the grazing is best, and where the sheep find contentment. They root out and destroy poisonous plants so their sheep may safely graze. They guide them to still waters, as they know that sheep refuse to drink from noisy, babbling brooks. With their shepherd’s staff they protect them from predators, pull them out of pits should they fall in, and lead them safely through difficult terrain. With oil they anoint and heal the wounds inflicted by thorns and briers, and with jugs of water they cleanse eyes weeping from dust or fever. “Sheep do not worry,” this shepherd concludes, “(Their shepherd’s) guidance has been good in the past, and they have faith in the future because they know he has their well-being in view.”

This psalm refers to God’s care for his chosen people, the Israelites, as he liberated them from slavery in Egypt and led them to the Promised Land. It may very well have been written during the Babylonian exile, that difficult period some six centuries before Christ, after the Jews had been violently evicted from their homeland and forced to resettle in what is now Iraq. Far from their homeland and stripped of their freedoms, the exiled Jews wondered if God still cared for them. God inspired this psalm to be written to assure his people that he did. His message to them was: “I’m in charge, so there’s no need to worry.”

God still uses this psalm today to touch people’s hearts. It beautiful and powerful words continue to fill us with confidence and hope when facing change, difficulties, painful circumstances, or our fear of the unknown. It’s a psalm that calls us to place our trust in God- a call we need to hear time and time and time again.

A member of my parish, Peggy Rooney, has a wonderful story of how she learned to trust in God. In her book Uncommon Conversations with God, Peggy confesses that for years she was apprehensive about life. Peggy dreaded making decisions, was apprehensive of not living up to expectations on the job, and harbored what she describes as unreasonable fears about her children’s safety. She prayed and prayed about her these things, but seemingly to no avail. But then God brought a woman named Irene into her life.

Irene was partially blind and had lost both legs as a result of her diabetes. She had the use of only one hand, because an accident years earlier had left the other one crippled. Nevertheless, instead of being bitter and resentful, Irene was a cheerful, compassionate, genuinely loving, and courageous individual. Irene taught Peggy to let go of hear fears by trusting in God. Irene explained that letting go simply means letting God take control of one’s life. At first, Peggy was hesitant. She wondered who would protect her if she “let go.” Irene’s life, however, provided the answer. She had no choice about being absolutely dependent on others.  But she did have a choice about how she related to those she depended upon. She trusted them, and she trusted God- absolutely.

One night Peggy asked Irene how she could be so brave in spite of her dependency. The answer changed Peggy’s life. Irene said, “I figure the worst thing that can happen to me is that I might die and get the chance to actually meet the One who’s been taking care of me for all these years.”

This is the kind of trust we all are called to. Jesus asks us not to worry, not to be filled with fears, and not to place our hopes on ourselves, on others, or on the things of this world. He invites us today to place our trust in him, and in him alone. Because when we trust the Lord who is our shepherd, surely we shall not want.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/051511.shtml

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When appearing to three young Portuguese children at Fatima in 1917, Mary asked the Church to pray for the conversion of Russia. At that time, Russia was in the midst of a revolution that led to its becoming a communist country.

Russia has changed since 1917, and we can thank the prayers offered at Mary’s request, and the courageous leadership of Pope John Paul II, for any good that has taken place in that nation.

But why was communist Russia singled out as a prayer request by Mary? In his letter about hope, Pope Benedict offers us clues. He explains that communism’s founder, Karl Marx, argued that overthrowing the political and economic structures of his day would lead to a perfect world- a world in which God was unnecessary. His fatal flaw, however, was that Marx didn’t explain how things should operate once those structures were overthrown, and that led, in the Holy Father’s own words, to a “trail of appalling destruction.” In short, Marx neglected to account for humanity’s need for God. And when God is forgotten, all human dreams of justice and peace are bound to fail.

Yet that’s true, not just for Russia in 1917, but for every nation in every age. So perhaps we should continue to honor Our Lady of Fatima’s request that we pray for Russia. But as citizens of the United States, we pray for our country too, as we seek to build a better world, founded not just on human dreams, but in Christian hope.

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Before his conversion to Christianity, St. Augustine ignored the Holy Scriptures. As a philosopher, he dismissed the Bible as crude and unsophisticated. Then one day an unseen child’s voice urged him to “Take up and read, take up and read.” A Bible was nearby. He read it, his heart was set on fire, and soon thereafter he became a Catholic.

Sometimes we ignore the Scriptures as St. Augustine once did. Maybe we think it’s too hard to understand- like the Ethiopian in today’s reading from Acts. (Thankfully, he asked for help!) Or perhaps we dismiss the Scriptures as too out of date to really address our contemporary needs.

Today’s gospel reading, however, reminds us that God himself speaks to us through the Bible When speaking of the bread of life, Jesus was referring not just to the Eucharist. He was speaking also of his gift of the Word- his personal revelation of God that nourishes and sustains us on our journey of faith. We encounter this Word in Sacred Scripture- God’s Word in human words- written in the past, but with the power to change our lives today.

Catholic psychologist Robert Wicks explains that although the Scriptures are ancient, they speak of an eternal wisdom, radiating from a God who is ageless, and ever new. When we ignore Scripture, he says, our faith becomes rootless, God becomes vague, and we’ll feel lost in times of crisis. Or as St. Jerome said so bluntly: “Ignorance of the Scriptures, is ignorance of Christ.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/051211.shtml

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“Grab life by the horns” is advice meant to encourage those who find life boring or routine to look for adventure and excitement. And that’s fine! Most everyone enjoys a little of that from time to time.

However, the pursuit of adventure and excitement can also distract us from dealing with life’s more important matters; it can side-track us from seeking to feed our deepest hungers. An exclusive diet of adventure and excitement will leave us always hungry for the next thrill, or the bigger rush. Over time, we’ll find ourselves discouraged, even bored (again)! We’ll be “hungry for more,” because we’ve been feeding ourselves with that which never truly satisfies. Thrills, at the end of the day, are mostly empty calories.

Only Jesus can satisfy life’s deepest hungers. “I am the bread of life,” he exclaimed in today’s gospel, “whoever comes to me will never hunger, and whoever believes in me will never thirst.” Jesus is talking, of course, about the gift he makes of himself in the Eucharist.

So- can we grab life by the horns? Sure…as long as we receive life from the Host.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/051111.shtml

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The Dawn of the Dead is a horror movie in which zombies shamble around, looking for human flesh to eat. In a bit of social satire, the film makers have the zombies gravitate toward those places where they’d found the most meaning in life. And where do the zombies end up? A shopping mall! The somber joke here is that many of us in our materialistic, consumerist society are like zombies, walking around half dead, because we seek satisfaction- seek life!- in things that ultimately fail to provide it. And so we end up hungry for that which can give meaning, and thirsting for real purpose and satisfaction.

Which brings us to today’s gospel. People hungry for truth and meaning came to Jesus, not exactly sure what they were looking for, and uncertain about what Jesus might be able to give them. To their surprise, Jesus offered them himself: “I am the bread of life,” he said. “Whoever comes to me will never hunger; whoever believes in me will never thirst.” By welcoming Jesus into their lives, and receiving him in the Eucharist they could really and truly live, and find the meaning, purpose, and direction that they sought after in the wilderness. And the same is true for us. “Sir,” prayed the crowds, “give us this bread always!” Let that be our cry, as well.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/051011.shtml

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“The business of America is business,” said President Calvin Coolidge in the 1920’s. And I think we can appreciate what he meant. We Americans work hard, and we like to make money.

However, today’s gospel has a message for us. We heard of people who came to Jesus seeking food. They wanted to fulfill their legitimate material, physical needs. And Jesus wants to meet these needs. That’s why, just the day before, he had fed these same people with loaves and fishes. But then he urged them, on this day, to look beyond the physical and the material. They should work for the food that only he can give.

We Americans need to hear these words. Because sometimes in our preoccupation with work, “the business of business,” we forget about what Jesus really wants us to work for; in our focus upon the material, we neglect the spiritual. The challenge for us is not to become so immersed with putting bread on the table, that we deprive ourselves of the bread of life.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050911.shtml

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