Author: Fr. Scott Hurd

“Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night,” tradition claims, will keep letter carriers from completing their rounds. To complete his mission of redemption and salvation, Jesus had to contend with much worse than that. Darkness, denial, ignorance, betrayal, cowardice, and the demonic all confronted Jesus as the Last Supper, on the eve of his passion. Yet Jesus pressed on, in spite of it all, demonstrating that his love for us, and his desire to save us, will never fail.

Jesus’ love is resolute. He would never force himself upon us, but he doesn’t keep a polite distance either. Instead, he keeps knocking at the door of our hearts. Sometimes we open our hearts to him on our own, and welcome him in. At other times, we need his help. Maybe our hearts are frozen, and Jesus needs to melt them; it could be that our hearts are broke, and Jesus needs to mend them; perhaps our hearts are made of stone, and they need replacing with Jesus’ own, sacred heart.

Regardless of the state of our heart, Jesus persists in his efforts to open its door, not to assert his power, but to share his love. Nothing will stop him! Not even death itself.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041911.shtml

 

A story is told of a king who had a nightmare. His wizard interpreted the dream to mean that the king would be killed on his next birthday and all his wealth would be stolen.

Upon hearing this, the king was filled with fear. He gathered his riches into his throne room and surrounded it with armed guards. But as his birthday drew closer, the king only became more afraid. He moved his riches to a more secure room and doubled the number of guards. On the day before his birthday, he moved his treasures to a vault with only one entrance. The king himself entered the vault, ordered that the doorway be sealed up with a wall of bricks, and instructed his guards not to take the wall down until his birthday had come and gone.

At one minute past midnight, the day after the king’s birthday, the guards tore down the wall as they’d been instructed. The found the king. But he was dead- from suffocation. His nightmare had indeed come true- he was dead and his possessions had been taken from him. But the guilty party wasn’t an enemy. It was his own fear.

Our fears can consume us and paralyze us. Fear can lead us to act irrationally and make poor decisions. That’s why our faith tradition has always insisted that we “be not afraid.”

But what exactly does this mean? That we shouldn’t fear anything at all? That’s a pretty impossible standard, because fear is a natural response to scary situations. In fact, to not be afraid might sometimes be a bad thing, as it might lead us to do something reckless, or be a sign that something isn’t quite right with us. Actor Hugh Laurie, of the TV series “House,” began treatment for depression after driving in a charity demolition derby, and discovering that he was bored instead of frightened. “Boredom,” he reflected, “is not an appropriate response to exploding cars.” But fear is.

When he was in the Garden of Gethsemane, knowing that he faced an unimaginably painful and brutal death, Jesus experienced fear. Like any of us would be, he was afraid. We may find it hard to accept that Jesus would have had such feelings. But think of it this way: in Jesus, the Son of God became like us in every way except sin. Jesus had to experience fear, if he was to be truly human.

So what about “Be not afraid?” Does what happened to Jesus in Gethsemane turn that into nonsense? No. There’s a difference between “Be not afraid” and “Do not be afraid.” “Do not be afraid” means what it says, and it’s just not possible in certain circumstances. But “Be not afraid” means that we shouldn’t “be” our fear. In other words, we shouldn’t let fear define us or control us or overwhelm us or make us do things that we wouldn’t do if the fear wasn’t there. Fear happens. But there are ways we can respond to it that are better than others.

Think back to Gethsemane. Jesus was afraid, and the sleepy disciples with him were afraid too. But they reacted to the same frightening situation in very different ways. At least one of them lashed out in violence, and all of them ran away, leaving their friend to those who hated him. For his part, Jesus was probably angry, but certainly not violent; he was afraid, but he was courageous too. His fortitude was greater than his fear.

Why this difference? And how is it that you and I might be able to follow our Lord’s example and face our fears with courage? To begin with, Jesus trusted in God the Father.  Through this trust, Jesus knew that evil and darkness would not have the final word, and that the Father would be always with him in his trials. Because he knew these things, Jesus could hope that beyond the sufferings he would endure, there was something better- something better for him, and something better for the rest of us, too.

This hope and trust of Jesus was fed by prayer. In Gethsemane, the disciples failed to pray, even after Jesus had basically ordered them to do so. That’s one reason why, when the test came, they failed and fled the scene. On the other hand, Jesus prayed through his fears. It was an honest prayer in which he shared his fear with the Father: “Let this cup pass from me!” At the same time, he surrendered himself into the Father’s hands, asking for help to do what the Father wanted him to do: “Nevertheless, not as I will, but what you will.”

Today’s Scripture readings share with us other prayers of faithful people who faced frightening challenges, but who nevertheless had hope in God. “Hasten to help me!” was the plea of the psalm. “My God, why have you forsaken me?” it asked, words Jesus himself cried from the cross. But it ended on a note of glory and praise to God. The first reading, from Isaiah, spoke of one who would face a cruel mocking and beating, but who still could insist: “The Lord God is my help.”

All of us fear something: Terrorism, a struggling economy, a warming climate, a rapidly changing public morality. We may fear rejection, failure, violence, loss of a job, the death of a loved one, the prospect of an illness. Maybe we’re afraid of the consequences of doing the right thing, like what might happen if we blew the whistle in a corrupt workplace, kept the baby of the unplanned pregnancy, or challenged the negative behavior of a friend or relative.

To us, our fears might be nightmarish, like the king in our opening story. But unlike that king, we need not let our fears defeat us. We can take our cue from the King of Kings, and turn to our heavenly Father, and find in him all the hope and courage we need.

Photo Credits (top to bottom): ezioman, lyng883, Capture Queen, Lel4nd, via Creative Commons

A classic case of the pot calling the kettle black is to be found in today’s gospel. Certain critics scolded Jesus, saying: “You, a man, are making yourself God!” Of course, Jesus wasn’t making himself God- he is God! However, don’t we try to make ourselves God all the time? Isn’t this an accusation that Jesus could legitimately make of those critics and many others- including us?

Just think about it:

So often, we want to glorify ourselves, and not God;

We want to be independent, not dependent on God;

We want to do what we want, not what God wants;

We want God to serve us, not the other way around.

The truth is, God didn’t create us to be God. God created us to be ourselves! Which is a good thing, as we’re all made in God’s image and likeness. And that’s why God calls us, not to be God, but to be godly, God-like.

Our challenge, then, is for us to stop trying so hard to be God, and instead surrender to God, that we may become like God, just a little bit more, every day.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041511.shtml

Photo Credit: jaxon s via Creative Commons

When he published a work about St. Joan of Arc, the French Catholic poet Charles Peguy intentionally left the first pages blank. He did this, he explained, to give the reader time to think.

Perhaps giving people the time to think was Jesus’ motivation in today’s gospel. As we heard, hostile men had confronted him about what to do with a woman who had been caught in adultery.

But Jesus didn’t respond right away. Instead, he sat quietly on the ground, tracing his finger in the dirt. It was only after the angry mob continued to press him for an answer that Jesus finally spoke. “Let the man among you who has no sin,” he said, “be the first to cast a stone.”

But why did Jesus take so long to speak? Why the hesitation? Was Jesus stalling for time so he could find something appropriate to say? I don’t think so.

Maybe Jesus was trying to teach us that we need to take the time to think before we impulsively cast a stone at another. Time for our emotions to cool. Time to consider all the variables and circumstances involved. Time to recall our own sins. And time to think of God’s mercy, not only to others, but especially to us.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041511.shtml

Photo credit: Bidrohi via Creative Commons

“I’m free, to do what I want, any old time!” insisted the Rolling Stones. Their song reflects how many people today understand freedom: It’s about doing whatever we want, whenever we want to.

Jesus, on the other hand, spoke in today’s gospel of a freedom not to do as we please, but the freedom to do what is pleasing to God; a freedom that involves not just the right to make choices, but the freedom to choose what is right; a freedom not from discipline but dependent on discipline; a freedom that doesn’t give us a license to sin, but a freedom that liberates us from sin; a freedom not just to “be you and me,” but a freedom to become all we were meant to be.

This freedom is rooted in a knowledge of the truth- a truth that is not just a body of knowledge, but a truth who is a person, Jesus Christ our Lord. What Jesus is saying to us today, then, is that if we follow him and live as he taught, we will truly be free- free from sin, free from unhappiness, free to love, free from fear, free to be his brothers and sisters, free to be sons and daughters of God.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041311.shtml

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Kevin and Chrissie were two individuals I became acquainted with during my seminary days. Chrissie was Kevin’s mother. At one time, Chrissie had been a nurse and Kevin an aspiring football player. But then Chrissie became an alcoholic, and Kevin soon followed suit. They became homeless, and when not in jail, they would roam the streets, shouting obscenities, getting into fights, and passing out on the sidewalk.

While praying one night, I shook my fist at God, demanding to know why he allowed something so terrible to have happened. But as I shouted, God answered by powerfully impressing upon my mind a vivid image of the cross. I felt chastised but peaceful, because this experience reminded me of an essential truth: To know God, we need to know the cross; without the cross, we can’t really understand God.

Jesus says as much in today’s gospel. People had asked, “Who are you?” To which Jesus replied, “You will know that I AM- you will know that I am God- when I have been lifted up” – lifted up on the cross.

To see Jesus on the cross is the key to understanding who Jesus really is. On the cross, we see humility, obedience, suffering, mercy, forgiveness, glory, kingship, sacrifice, priesthood, death, and victory over death. But most importantly, what we see on the cross is love. Because when Jesus was lifted up, he stretched out his arms, as if to welcome us into the eternal embrace of his love. Truly, to know the cross is to know Jesus. And to know Jesus is to experience his love.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041211.shtml

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Are you familiar with the “halo effect?” It refers to our tendency to judge a person based on only one characteristic  that we find attractive or impressive. It’s as if we place a halo over their heads; they can do no wrong. We do this especially with those we think are physically attractive. We think: They’re good-looking, so surely they’re also intelligent and talented. The opposite of the halo effect is the “devil effect.” We dislike one thing about a person, or find something about them unappealing, and we write them off entirely.

I think that some of this was going on in today’s Scripture readings. In the story from Daniel, we heard of a terrible rush to judgment. The crowds were absolutely convinced that the two elders were telling the truth, because they were seen as respected and wise religious figures. And that almost got Susanna killed!

Then, in our gospel, certain Pharisees were absolutely sure that Jesus wasn’t who he claimed to be- because he didn’t fit into their pre-conceived notions. And that ultimately did get Jesus killed.

Now, the judgments you and I make don’t generally have life-and-death ramifications. However, the judgments we make do have the potential to deeply hurt others, when we judge them wrongly.

Our Lord challenges us to be aware of this, and proceed with caution. So we don’t rush to judgment; so we don’t just judge by appearances. Jesus said to his Pharisee critics: I do not judge, but when I do judge, my judgment is right, because my Father is with me.

We would do well to follow Jesus’ example- to suspend judgment, until we’re able to judge like him.

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041111.shtml

Photo credit: Ha-Wee via Creative Commons

Many of you will recall the horrible bombing of the Oklahoma City federal building back in 1995. Until 9/11, this bombing was deadliest act of terrorism ever on US soil. Not far from where that building stood is St. Joseph’s Catholic Church. In its garden now stands a tall, white-robed Jesus. His back is turned to the bombing site, and his shoulder is slumped in grief. With tears streaming down his cheeks, Jesus faces a brick wall with 168 empty spaces- one space for each person who died that terrible day. Inscribed at the base of the statue are two short words: “Jesus weeps.”

This statue, and its inscription, were inspired by today’s gospel. While walking to the tomb of his dear friend Lazarus, Jesus is filled with grief, and he burst into tears. John 11:37 says, very simply, “Jesus wept.” It’s the shortest verse in the Bible, but it’s also one of the most beautiful, because in it, Jesus’ humanity and compassion so clearly shine forth.

Jesus’ tears assure us that it’s okay to be sorrowful when we lose someone we love. Sometimes, well-intentioned people may react to our grief by trying to cheer us up. They’ll say things like, “We’ll, he’s in a much better place now” or “She’s gone to be with the Lord.” We certainly hope and pray that that’s the case. But nevertheless it’s acceptable- indeed, it’s normal and even necessary!- to be sad when a loved one dies. Just think of Jesus. He can appreciate our grief because he’s experienced it himself. When we cry, Jesus cries right alongside us.

In addition to sadness, however, Jesus also experienced anger at the death of his friend. Twice, in the passage we just heard, Jesus was “perturbed and deeply troubled.” A better translation might say that he “shuddered with anger.” Jesus did this first when he saw Mary and her friends weeping. He did it again when he stood before Lazarus’ tomb. Significantly, Jesus reacts the same way on two other occasions in this gospel: Shortly after he entered Jerusalem and knew that the “hour” of his passion was now at hand; and again at the Last Supper, as he foretold Judas’ betrayal. In each of these episodes, Jesus is confronted with death- either his own, or that of Lazarus. Death, evidently, makes Jesus angry.

Jesus’ anger is not uncontrolled rage or self-pity. Instead, it’s righteous indignation against death itself. Jesus is angry because death can take people well before their time, and it leaves an aching void in the lives of those left behind.  But most especially, Jesus is angry at death because it’s a consequence of sin, his greatest enemy of all.

All of this begs a question, however: If Jesus loved Lazarus so much that his death filled him with sorrow and anger, and if death is an enemy to be vanquished, why did Jesus linger for two days when he learned that Lazarus was on the verge of death? At first glace, it might appear that Jesus is heartless or cruel.

In reality, Jesus did what he did to demonstrate a point. As Jesus said to Mary, Lazarus’ sister, “I am glad for you that I was not there, so that you may believe.” Jesus knew that for Mary, and for all of us, death is a great test of faith. Whenever we face our own death or that of a loved one, we come to the realization that when we enter the grave, we do so alone. Anything we may have depended on before- friends, family, finances, reputation, accomplishments, hopes and dreams- are of no use to us when we pass through death’s door. When facing this prospect, even firm believers can be plagued with doubt and fears. It’s then we need to trust that death doesn’t have the final word, and that there truly is a God, who in his love offers us an eternal, heavenly existence beyond our wildest expectations.

However, this is precisely what Jesus wanted to demonstrate by raising Lazarus from the dead. This miracle is a sign anticipating Jesus’ resurrection, but it’s an intentional contrast, too. Lazarus was restored to a normal, earthly existence. He was resuscitated, not resurrected. Jesus brought him back to life only to die again another day. When Lazarus came shambling from his tomb, he was still wrapped in his burial cloths, reminding us that one day he’d have to be wrapped in those cloths again. But when Jesus emerged from his tomb on Easter morning, his burial shroud was left neatly in a corner- a sign that his body had been liberated forever from the bonds of death and corruption. Jesus didn’t die and rise again so that we could live forever in our present state. He came that we might enjoy a new life- a resurrection life!- a life of union with God which begins at baptism, but is perfected only after we have died. “I am the resurrection and the life,” Jesus said. “Whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live. And everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.”

Death brings with it sorrow and anger. Jesus shows us that. But for Christians, death can also bring our faith life to completion, and Jesus shows us that too. During his final days of battling pancreatic cancer, a Cardinal wrote of receiving a hospital visit from an old friend, who was a priest. Seeing the Cardinal in extreme pain and exhausted from radiation therapy, the priest offered words of comfort about his friend’s approaching death. “It’s very simple,” he said. “People of faith, who believe that death is the transition from this life to life eternal, should see it as a friend.”

Readings for today’s Mass: http://www.usccb.org/nab/041011.shtml

Photo credits (top to bottom): Termin8er via Creative Commons