Author: Fr. Scott Hurd

Our parish Director of Religious Education, Kathy Kramer, and I once had a conversation in our church’s sanctuary. Her two delightful young boys were playing nearby, and at one point they got near the tabernacle. Kathy asked them to settle down. “This is where we pray, not where we play,” she said. One of her boys asked “Why?” Kathy explained, “Because Jesus is in the tabernacle.” With a puzzled expression on his face, the little boy looked at the tabernacle, then at me, and finally at Kathy. Then he asked, “What he doing in there?” I looked at Kathy and said: “This one’s all yours, Mom!” But Kathy was cool. After a brief pause, she looked at her son and said: “Jesus is there reminding us of how much he loves us.”

Blessed Pope John Paul II made the very same point in a little document he wrote not long before he died called “Church of the Eucharist.” It was written as a teaching document, and it’s an excellent one at that. But the Holy Father concluded this work with a very personal final chapter. He wrote, “Allow me, dear brothers and sisters, to share with deep emotion…my own testimony of faith in the Most Holy Eucharist.” He reflected with gratitude on how he had celebrated Mass and contemplated its mystery every day since his ordination in Poland in 1946.  Then he said, “Every day my faith has been able to recognize in the consecrated bread and wine the divine Wayfarer who joined the two disciples on the road to Emmaus and opened their eyes to the light and their hearts to a new hope.”

In saying this, he was of course referring directly to today’s gospel. As we heard, on the evening of that first Easter day, the “wayfaring” Jesus revealed himself in the “breaking of the bread”- one of the earliest titles for the Mass. And following this, the two disciples recalled how their “hearts burned” as Jesus explained the Scriptures to them.

The way this event is described is meant to remind us that we too encounter the risen Jesus at Mass. First, Jesus himself speaks to us when the Scriptures are proclaimed, and our hearts should burn within us. And then Jesus presents himself to us in the consecrated bread and wine, his Body and Blood. In other words, the risen Jesus is met, not just by the first disciples on that first Easter, but also by us every time we participate in the Eucharist. Indeed, this and every Sunday, to again quote the Holy Father, “is Easter which returns week by week.”

What a tremendous gift this is! Pope John Paul II called it the “gift par excellence,” and he dearly wanted all of us to cherish it for what it is. “In the Eucharist we have Jesus,” he wrote, “we have his redemptive sacrifice, we have his resurrection, we have the gift of the Holy Spirit, we have adoration, obedience, and love of the Father.” “Were we to disregard the Eucharist,” he continued, “how could we overcome our own deficiency?

Yet sometimes we Catholics do disregard the Eucharist. We neglect it or take it for granted. It’s heartbreaking to read that only one third of Catholics in the United States today attend Mass on any given Sunday. It’s sad, and it’s also ironic, since it is the Eucharist that attracts so many non-Catholic Christians to join our church. A parishioner here once explained to me that while she had been born and raised a Christian, it was her desire for the gift of Jesus in the Eucharist that led her to become a Catholic.

St. Elizabeth Ann Seton, who essentially founded our country’s Catholic school system, had a similar experience. She had been a New York Episcopalian until her husband’s illness in 1803 led both of them to the warmer climate of Rome to seek a cure. While there, she met kind and generous Catholic people who explained to her that Jesus could be met in the Mass. This greatly appealed to her in her loneliness and concern for her husband’s health. She wrote this to her sister back home: “While I face the full loneliness and sadness of my case, I cannot stop tears at the thought, “My God, how happy I would be, even so far away from all so dear, if I could find you in the church as they do.’”

Do we feel that way about the Eucharist, or do we think otherwise? Is Mass something we anticipate with joy, or do we dread it as a burden or an inconvenience? It participation at Mass a top priority, or is it something we do only occasionally, or even rarely? Yes, sometimes we do have legitimate reasons for missing Mass on Sunday. But more often than not, we don’t. In one of his books, Fr. Oscar Lukefahr asks this question: If we were offered a week’s salary to skip Mass this morning, would we go anyway? If our answer is yes, then God bless us. But if our answer is no, not only do we disobey God’s command, but we show that God is less important to us than money- or any number of other things. Indeed, it would show that we were out of touch with the true God, who is worth infinitely more than anything this passing world has to offer.[1]

Participating at Mass, Fr. Lukefahr point out, is really the only thing that Jesus specifically asks us to do for himself.  “Do this in memory of me,” was his command to us at the Last Supper. In light of all that he’s done for us, how could we possibly ignore his request? How could we ever refuse such as blessing?[2] As Kathy Kramer reminded her son, Jesus presents himself in the Eucharist to remind us of how much he loves us. In gratitude, shouldn’t we faithfully present ourselves to Jesus at the Eucharist, to show how much we love him?

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[1] Fr. Oscar Lukefahr, We Worship: A Guide to the Catholic Mass

[2] ibid

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050811.shtml

Photo Credit: jetalone, bobosh_t, via Creative Commons

“It was a dark and story night” is widely understood to be a terrible beginning to a novel! However, a dark and stormy night proved to be a perfect time for Jesus to reveal something of himself to his friends.

After sunset, as today’s gospel recalls, the disciples were straining to row their boat in the face of powerful winds. Seeing their struggle, Jesus came to them, walking on water. Not only did this demonstrate Jesus’ power over nature. It also suggested his power over death- which water represented in the Jewish imagination.

As he approached them, the Lord assured his friends by saying, “I am Jesus.” Simple words- but rich with meaning. “I AM” is God’s own name as spoken to Moses at the burning bush; “Jesus,” in Hebrew, means “God saves.” Jesus concluded with an invitation: “Do not be afraid.”

What Jesus communicated to his disciples that night, he also says to us:  “There’s no need to fear. I am Jesus; I am God. When life is dark and stormy, and you’re straining into the wind, I will come to you. I will save you from your fears; I will save you from death.”

St. Catherine of Siena summed it up very well: “Be comforted in Christ crucified, and do not be afraid.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050711.shtml

Photo Credit: Mac_NZ via Creative Commons

Barley bread and little fish were a typical “workingman’s lunch” in Jesus’ day; they were a first century “po’ boy san’wich,” if you will. Its mention into today’s gospel in a sign that the crowds who followed Jesus into the dangerous wilderness were poor, in addition to being hungry.

Parallels with the Eucharist are also in today’s gospel. It’s Passover time, as it was for the first Eucharist. The crowd’s reclining on the grass anticipates the disciples reclining at table in the Upper Room. Jesus’ taking loaves, giving thanks, and passing them on are the same as his actions at the Last Supper. And the gathering of fragments into baskets, according to ancient interpretation, implies the unity that the Eucharist signifies for the Church.

What the combination of inferences to the hungry poor and the Eucharist seems to be saying to us is this: We who feed on Jesus in the Eucharist are in turn to seek out and feed Jesus in the faces of the poor. Jesus commands us, just as he instructed his disciples: “You give them something to eat.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050611.shtml

Photo credit: mira66 via Creative Commons

If someone were to ask us, “How has God touched your life?” we would each have a different answer, because we all have a unique personal story to tell.

But even though our faith histories are all somewhat different, what God wants us to do with these experiences is one and the same: He wants us to share them for the benefit of others; He wants to touch other lives through our telling of how he has touched ours. To not share our stories would be a disservice to those people God may be trying to reach through us- and perhaps only us.

In sharing our stories, we follow in the footsteps of Jesus himself who, in the words of today’s gospel, “Testifies to what he has seen and heard” from the Father in heaven. We also follow the courageous example of the apostles, who in the first reading explained to those who wanted to put them to death that they were compelled to testify to the acts of God which they had witnessed.

Like them, we have a responsibility to share our stories, out of love for others, and for the glory of God. “My deepest vocation,” wrote Fr. Henri Nouwen, “is to be a witness to the glimpses of God I have been allowed to catch.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050511.shtml

Photo Credit: Ed Yourdon via Creative Commons

My eldest daughter’s Catholic preschool teacher once sent home a note, explaining that, “God made me. I am special,” was what they were learning that week. I smiled as I read that. But then the thought occurred to me: How many adults need to learn this same lesson? How many people fail to realize that they are special in God’s eyes? How many just don’t know- really- that God loves them?

It’s been said that the poorest people in the world are those that are unloved, because they’re robbed of their human dignity. If that’s the case, then the world is a very poor place.

Today’s gospel, however, reminds us God loves us more than we could ever imagine. We’re told he loves us so much that he wants us to live with him forever, and that his own Son died to make this possible. It’s as if God is saying to us: “I love you so much that I can’t think of spending eternity without you.”

Are we grateful for this love? In prayer I try to be grateful to God for many things: blessings received, prayers answered, and so forth. Maybe you’re the same way. But how often do we simply say, “Thank you God, for loving me.” Probably not often enough. Today, let’s make it a point to rejoice in the wonderful truth that God is love, and that God really, really, loves us.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050411.shtml

Photo credit: kyz via Creative Commons

All religions in the world have something to say about truth. The Hindu scriptures say: “Truth is elusive. It’s like a butterfly; you’ve got to search for it. Near the end of his life, the Buddha said: “I’m still searching for the truth.” Muhammad said, “I am a prophet of the truth.”

Jesus also had something to say about the truth. He didn’t say he was searching for it, or that it is elusive, or that he is truth’s prophet. He stated, quite simply, that he himself is the truth. “I am the way, and the truth, and the life,” he said in today’s gospel. And he is these things, Jesus explained, because he and the Father are one. Jesus, in other words, is God. And that forces us to make a decision. We either accept that Jesus is who he says he is, or we don’t.

You and I believe that Jesus is the truth; that’s why we’re here. But with this knowledge comes responsibility. Every person on earth seeks the truth, which means that everyone is ultimately searching for Jesus. We who know Jesus as the truth, therefore, must share that truth with others. To keep the truth to ourselves would be a crime; to share it with others is an act of love. The apostles we celebrate today, Saints Philip and James, shared the truth of Jesus, and so must we. What today’s psalm said of God’s creation should also be said of us: “Their message goes out through all the world.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/050311.shtml

Photo Credit: Santiago Apostol via Creative Commons

Catholic bishops across the globe world are often forced to make a courageous stand in defense of truth while facing the world’s opposition. They are doing what bishops have done throughout history, including the bishop we honor today, St. Athanasius.

Athanasius was a fourth century bishop of Alexandria, Egypt, which at the time was a major center of Christian activity and thinking. Because he stridently defended the doctrine that Jesus is truly God, he faced opposition from emperors, magistrates, and many intellectuals of his day. Five times he was forced into exile. As he often seemed to stand alone in his position, his contemporaries said of him, “Athanasius contra mundi”, or “Athanasius against the world.”

We should give thanks to God today for the courageous witness of bishops from the past like Athanasius, and we should give thanks for the courageous witness of bishops in our own age. In addition to our gratitude, we should support our bishops though prayer, acceptance of their teaching, and public advocacy for their positions, so that unlike Athanasius, they don’t stand alone against the world. The world needs our bishops, and our world- and our bishops- need us.

 

One Sunday while in college, I invited a friend with me to church. “No thanks” he said, “it’s just not my thing.” For him, having faith was fine for those who found it attractive, but he just wasn’t interested. From his perspective, faith is kind of like a hobby. I have a hobby- running- which I enjoy very much. Many people, however, find running boring or painful. Running, therefore, is definitely “my thing.” But is that all my faith is? Is that all your faith is?

Some say that it is. Some even say that faith is our “thing” because we’re “weak-minded.” If you recall, that’s what pro-wrestler turned Governor of Minnesota Jesse Ventura said to Playboy magazine. But of course, Ventura is far from being alone. Psychologist Sigmund Freud, for instance, insisted that religious faith makes people into neurotic, psychological infants. Karl Marx, the founder of Communism, criticized religious faith as the “Opium of the Masses,” a drug we take to keep us from seeing the world as it really is. And bestselling atheist Sam Harris says that religious faith “allows otherwise normal human beings to reap the fruits of madness and consider them holy.”

Other critics say that our faith is not only a sign that we’re dumb, but also that we’re dangerous. They point out all of the horrible things that have been done, and continue to be done, in the name of religious faith: Wars, persecutions, forced conversions, crusades, inquisitions, jihads, crucifixions, and the like. At the very least, they maintain, faith flies in the face of reason and creates unnecessary divisions within society: believers versus unbelievers, Catholics versus Protestants, Muslim versus Jew. Because of this, claims God is Not Great author Christopher Hitchens, author of God is Not Great: “All religious belief is sinister.”

But that’s not all. According to some critics, like evolutionary biologist Richard Dawkins, who wrote The God Delusion, not only does faith make us dumb and dangerous, it also shows how backward and behind-the-times we are. According to them, religious faith is a product of blind evolution that we just don’t need any more. It once served a purpose for primitive, unenlightened humans, offering security in a dangerous, scary world, and providing answers to the meaning of life, but we’ve progressed beyond that now. We don’t need faith anymore to understand our world. All we really need is science.

In today’s gospel, we heard how “doubting Thomas,” as he’s come to be called, refused to believe in Jesus’ resurrection, even though his friends said it was true. You and I believe in Jesus’ resurrection. Yet there are those who say to us that our resurrection faith shows that we’re crazy, weak, backwards, and dangerous. “Doubting Thomas’” disbelief vanished when Jesus appeared to him in person. But that’s probably not going to happen to us. So how can we keep a firm grip on our faith in the face of criticisms that can easily sow seeds of doubt, and tempt even the most faithful among us, to wonder if what they say might just be true?

We can begin by remembering all of the different ways our faith makes us strong. For starters, numerous studies have shown that people of faith are healthier and live longer. Faith, therefore, helps make us physically strong. And it helps us be emotionally strong too, because our faith can fill us with joy, happiness, contentment, and peace. Even more than this, our faith gives us strength in the face of life’s difficulties, and whenever we confront the realities of pain, suffering, and death. Our faith gives meaning to these events, reminds us that we have a God who walks with us, offers hope for a better life beyond this one, and empowers us to forgive those who may have done us wrong. We should ask ourselves: What kind of people would we be without faith? Probably weaker, less happy, more confused, and certainly not stronger-minded! As the philosopher Kierkegaard once said, life is not a question of belief versus unbelief. It’s a question of belief versus despair.

But does our faith make us dangerous? It’s true that terrible things have been done in the name of Christian faith. As Christians, we should apologize for them and seek to heal any damage that has been done. But let’s not forget that lack of faith has led to far more terrible things. Just think of the tens of millions who have died under Communist regimes. We must also never forget that faith has inspired people and the Church to do wonderfully good things: The promotion of human rights, and the care, protection, and education of the sick, poor, persecuted, and forgotten members of society. Our faith inspires us to a goodness and generosity we wouldn’t have without faith. One prominent atheist today dismisses love of enemies as a “monstrous notion,” while our faith teaches that it’s a virtue. So are people of faith more dangerous than those without it? You tell me.

Yet even if we’re less dangerous, might we still be behind the times? Is our faith nothing more than a left-over evolutionary by-product? Is faith in God is simply a function of the way our brains are wired, and nothing more? Or is it God who wired our brains to have faith in the first place? The answer to that is, well, a matter of faith! But maybe a voice from long ago, St. Augustine, can help us out. He maintained that it is natural for people to have faith. To lack faith, on the other hand, is unnatural, because of the way God has made us. So while there will always be those who say faith is crazy, dangerous, out-of-date, or even just “our thing,” people of every time and place will hunger for Christian faith. Or as G. K. Chesterton once said: “Christianity has been declared dead many times. Thankfully, it has a God who knows his way out of a grave.”