Community in Mission

April 2, 2016April 1, 2016

From Fear to Faith – A Homily for the Second Sunday of Easter

In today’s Gospel, the risen Lord appeared to the apostles, who were gathered together in one place. The fact that they were gathered in one place is not without significance, for it is there that the Lord chose to appear to them. One of them, as we shall see, was not in the gathering and thus missed the blessing of seeing and experiencing the risen Lord. It might be said that Thomas, the absent apostle, blocked his blessing.

Some people want Jesus without the Church. No can do. Jesus is found in His Church, among those who have gathered. There is surely joy to be found in a personal relationship with Jesus, but the Lord also announced a special presence whenever two or three are gathered in His name. It is essential for us to discover how Mass attendance is essential for us if we want to experience the healing and blessing of the Lord. This Gospel has a lot to say to us about the need for us to gather together to find the Lord’s blessing in the community of the Church, in His Word, and in the Sacraments. Let’s look at today’s Gospel in five stages.

I. Fearful Fellowship – Notice how the text describes the gathering of the apostles: On the evening of that first day of the week, when the doors were locked, where the disciples were, for fear of the Jews … These men are frightened, but they are in the right place. It is Sunday, the first day of the week, and they have gathered together. The text says nothing about what they are doing, only that they have gathered. But in a sense this is all we need to know, for this will set the stage for blessings and for the presence of the Lord.

And these are men who need a blessing! The locked doors signify their fear of the Jewish authorities. One may also assume that they are discouraged, lacking in hope, and maybe even angry. For they have experienced the earthquake that Jesus’ crucifixion was for them. It is true that some of the women in their midst claim to have seen Him alive, but now it is night and there have been no other sightings of which they have heard.

But, thanks be to God, they have gathered. It is not uncommon for those who have “stuff” going on in their lives to retreat, withdraw, and even hide. Of course this is probably the worst thing that one can do. And it would seem that Thomas may have taken this approach, though his absence is not explained. Their gathering, as we shall see, is an essential part of the solution for everything that afflicts them. This gathering is the place in which their new hope, new hearts, and new minds will dawn.

And for us, too, afflicted as we are in so many ways, troubled at some times and joyful at others, there is the critical importance of gathering each Sunday, each first day of the week. In every Mass, the Lord prepares blessings for us. I am powerfully aware that every Mass I celebrate, especially Sunday Mass, is a source of powerful blessings for me. Not only does God instruct me with His Word and feed me with His Body and Blood, He also helps form me through the presence and praise of others: the people I have been privileged to serve. I don’t know where I’d be if it were not for the steady support of the People of God: their prayers, their praise, their witness, and their encouragement.

The Book of Hebrews states well the purpose and blessing of our liturgical gatherings:

Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful; and let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good deeds, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another; and all the more as you see the Day drawing near (Heb 10:22-25).

So the apostles are meeting together, encouraging one another. As we shall see, they are about to be blessed. But the blessing occurs only the context of the gathering, so Thomas will miss it; this blessing is only for those who are there. And so it is for us, who also have blessings waiting but only if we are present, gathered for Holy Mass. Don’t block your blessings!

II. Fabulous Fact – Then comes the blessing: For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them (Matt 18:20). The text from today’s Gospel says, Jesus came and stood in their midst and said to them, “Peace be with you.” When he had said this, he showed them his hands and his side. The disciples rejoiced when they saw the Lord. Jesus said to them again, “Peace be with you.”

Suddenly there is a completely new reality, a new hope, a new vision. Note, too, that there is also a new serenity, a peace, a shalom. For not only do they see and come to experience a wholly new reality, they also receive an inner peace. Observe again that this is only to those who are present.

And here is a basic purpose of the gathering we call the Sacred Liturgy. For it is here that we are invited to encounter the living Lord, who ministers to us and offers us peace. Through His word, we are increasingly enabled to see things in a wholly new way, a way that gives us hope, clarity, and confidence. Our lives are reordered. Inwardly, too, a greater peace is meant to come upon us as the truth of this newer vision begins to transform us, giving us a new mind and heart. Looking to the altar, I draw confidence that the Lord has prepared a table for me in the sight of my enemies and my cup is overflowing (Ps 23). The Eucharist is thus the sign of our victory and our election; as we receive the Body and the Blood of the Lord, we are gradually transformed into the very likeness of Christ.

Is this your experience of the gathering we call the Mass? Is it a transformative reality, or just a tedious ritual?

As for me, I can say that I am being changed, transformed into a new man, into Christ, by this weekly, indeed daily, gathering we call the Mass. I have seen my mind and heart changed and renewed. I see things more clearly and have greater hope, joy, and serenity. I cannot imagine what my life would be like were it not for this gathering of the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, where Jesus is present to me and says, “Shalom, peace be with you.” Over the years, I am a changed man.

Yes, the Mass works. It transforms; it gives a new mind and heart. Don’t block your blessings; be there every Sunday.

III. Forgiving Fidelity – Next comes something quite extraordinary, something that simply cannot take place within a private notion of faith. The text says, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you.” And when he had said this, he breathed on them and said to them, “Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.”

In this remarkable moment, the Lord gives the apostles the power to forgive sin. Note that He is not simply giving them the ability to announce that we are forgiven. He is giving them the juridical power to forgive, or in certain cases to withhold/delay forgiveness. This is extraordinary! Not only has He given this authority to men (cf Matt 9:8), He has given it to the very men who abandoned Him (with the exception of John) at His crucifixion. These are men who are well aware of their shortcomings! Perhaps it is only because Jesus knows of their awareness that He can truly trust them with such power.

There are those who deny that Confession is a biblical sacrament. But here it is, right here in today’s Gospel. There are other texts in Scripture that also show Confession to be quite biblical:

Also many of those who were now believers came, confessing and divulging their practices (Acts 19:18).
Is any one of you sick? He should call the presbyters of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up. If he has sinned, he will be forgiven. Therefore, confess your sins to one another and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective (James 5:14-16).

Many consider it sufficient merely to speak to God privately about their sins, but the Scriptures instruct us away from such a solitary notion and bid us to approach the Church. The Lord gives the apostles the authority to adjudicate and then to absolve or retain sin, but this presupposes that someone has first approached them for such absolution. St. Paul was approached by the believers in Ephesus, who made open declaration of their sins. The Book of James also places the forgiveness of sins in the context of the calling of the presbyters, the priests of the Church, and sees this as the fulfillment of declare your sins to one another … the prayer of the righteous man has great power (James 5:16).

Thus, again, there is a communal context for blessing, not merely a private one. I have written more on the biblical roots of Confession here: The Sacrament of Confession.

IV. Faltering Fellowship – We have already noted that Thomas blocked his blessing by not being present. The text says, Thomas, called Didymus, one of the Twelve, was not with them when Jesus came. So the other disciples said to him, “We have seen the Lord.” But he said to them, “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands and put my finger into the nail marks and put my hand into his side, I will not believe.”

Thomas exhibits faltering fellowship in two ways:

First, he is not with the other apostles on resurrection evening. Thus he misses the blessing of seeing and experiencing the resurrection and the Lord.

Second, Thomas exhibits faltering fellowship by refusing to believe the testimony of the Church that the Lord had risen.

One of the most problematic aspects of many people’s faith is that they do not understand that the Church is an object of faith. In the Creed every Sunday, we profess to believe in God the Father and in Jesus Christ, His only Son, our Lord, and to believe in the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life. But we are not done yet. We go on to say that we believe in one, holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. We know and believe what we do about Jesus Christ on the basis of what the Church hands on from the apostles. Some say, “No, I believe in what the Bible says.” But the Bible is a Book of the Church. God has given it to us through the Church who, by God’s grace, collected and compiled its contents and vouches for the veracity of the Scriptures. Without the Church there would be no Bible.

Therefore, in rejecting the testimony of the Church, Thomas is breaking fellowship and refusing to believe in what the Church, established by Christ to speak in His name (e.g. Lk 24:48; Lk 10:16; Matt 18:17; Jn 14:26; 1 Tim 3:15; inter al.) teaches. And so do we falter in our fellowship with the Church if we refuse to believe the testimony of the Church in matters of faith and morals. Here, too, is a privatization of faith, a rejection of fellowship, and a refusal to gather with the Church and accept what she proclaims through her Scriptures, Tradition, and the catechism.

Note that as long as Thomas is not present, he has blocked his blessings. He must return to gather with the others in order to overcome his struggle with the faith.

V. Firmer Faith – Thomas then returns to fellowship with the other apostles. Just as we do not know the reason for his absence, his return is also unexplained. Some may wish to chalk up his absence to some insignificant factor such as being busy, or in ill health, or some other largely neutral factor. But John seldom gives us details for neutral reasons. Further, Thomas does refuse to believe the testimony of the others, which is not a neutral fact.

But, praise God, Thomas is now back with the others and in the proper place for a blessing. Whatever his struggle with the faith, he has chosen to work it out in the context of fellowship with the Church. He has gathered with the others. Now comes the blessing.

You know the story, but the point here for us is that whatever our doubts and difficulties with the faith, we need to keep gathering with the Church. In some ways faith is like a stained glass window that is best appreciated from inside the Church. From the outside, there may seem very little about it that is beautiful. It may even look dirty and leaden. But once one ventures inside and adjusts to the light, one can see that the window radiates beauty.

It is often this way with the faith. I have found that I could only really appreciate some of the more difficult teachings of the Church after years of fellowship and instruction by the Church, in the liturgy and in other ways. As my fellowship and communion have grown more intense, my faith has become clearer and more firm.

Now that he is inside the room, Thomas sees the Lord. When he was outside, he did not see and doubted. The eyes of our faith see far more than our fleshly eyes. But in order to see and experience our blessings, we must gather; we must be in the Church.

Finally, it is a provocative but essential truth that Christ is found in the Church. Some want Christ without the Church. No can do. He is found in the gathering of the Church, the ekklesia, the assembly of those called out. Any aspects of His presence that are found outside the Church are but mere glimpses, shadows emanating from the Church. He must be sought where He is found, among sinners in His Church. The Church is His Body and His Bride. It is here that He is found. “Feeling” His presence while alone on some mountaintop can never compare to hearing the priest saying, “Behold the Lamb of God.”

Thomas found Him, but only when he gathered with the others. It is Christ’s will to gather us and unite us (Jn 17:21). Congregavit nos in unum Christi amor (The love of Christ has gathered us in one).

Note: This Sunday is also Divine Mercy Sunday. I published a homily in the past (Perfect Mercy) with this focus.

April 1, 2016April 1, 2016

The Joy of Giving, as Seen in a Beautiful Commercial

In our care for the poor, there are many rewards that we know do not come right away. Sometimes we are not even sure whether what we did helped at all!

Scripture speaks of some blessings that will wait until Heaven. And thus Jesus counsels us to store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys, and where thieves do not break in or steal (Matt 6:20). Of course we do not store up treasure in Heaven by putting it into a balloon or a rocket and sending it up there. Rather, what Jesus teaches is that we store up treasure in Heaven by giving it to the poor and needy. Scripture says elsewhere, Cast your bread on the surface of the waters, for it will come back to you after many days (Eccles 11:1).

Yes, some of our care for the poor will reap rewards much later.

But some rewards are now. Perhaps we see what a difference our help has made. Or perhaps we notice that God’s goodness to us increases, because He can trust us to be generous with His blessings. Scripture says,

And if anyone gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones who is my disciple, truly I tell you, that person will certainly not lose their reward (Matt 10:42).

Give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together and running over, will be poured into your lap. For with the measure you use, it will be measured to you (Luke 6:38).

Whoever is kind to the poor lends to the LORD, and he will reward them for what they have done (Proverbs 19:17).

Yes, some rewards are now—not just “return gifts” from the Lord but also the joy of giving itself, the joy of connecting with others.

All of those personal rewards, as well as others, are seen in this beautiful video. Please enjoy it! And remember, God will not be outdone in generosity.

And let us not be weary in well doing: for in due season we shall reap, if we faint not. As we have therefore opportunity, let us do good unto all men … (Gal 6:9-10)

March 31, 2016

Is Your Spiritual Life Like a Sailboat or a Motorboat?

When I was about 10 years old I took some sailing lessons, and then did so again when I was in my early 30s. Sailing involves a kind of romancing of the wind, wherein one observes it and then adapts to it, wooing it, learning its moves, its vicissitudes, its often subtle and changing signs.

Oh, for the great times when the wind was with us! And then catching the wind, the boat would speed along making a slick sound in the water. Oh, too, for those daring and thrilling times when the spinnaker was put out. The boat would almost strain as the proud winds filled her arcing sail.

But there were also difficult days, when the winds were contrary and there was the hard work of tacking, beating, and jibing.

Sailing is an image of receptivity. One cannot control the wind, but must simply accept it, taking it as it is. Yes, sailing requires the sailor to adjust to what is, to learn to accept and work with what is given, to live in the world as it is rather than wishing for the world as it ought to be.

The sailor must simply accept wind’s biddings and blessings, the way in which it would have us go: this way and that, and then shifting directions somewhat unexpectedly. The good sailor accepts that a good strong breeze can suddenly grow calm only to stir again moments later. This is especially the case in the sultry days of summer, when the prevailing winds are less evident and their strength and direction can be very local and very subtle.

Yes, it is all very mysterious. Indeed, Jesus used the wind as an image for mystery when he said to Nicodemus, The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit (Jn 3:8).

And thus the wind and sailing become something of an image of the soul interacting with God. We cannot control God nor should we try. Our role is to sense His direction and put out our sails accordingly. We are to “romance the wind” by growing deeper in our love and trust of God. We are to discover the serenity of accepting what is, of following the lead of God or receiving what is offered rather than seeking to control and manipulate the outcome.

Sometimes God’s Ruah, His Spirit and breath, is a strong and refreshing wind, as at Pentecost when Scripture says, And suddenly there came from heaven a sound like a mighty rushing wind, and it filled the entire house where they were (Acts 2:4). At other times, God speaks in a whispering breeze: And after the fire came a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. Then a voice said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:12-13)

Yes, allow the wind to represent the movements of God’s Spirit, His Ruah, His breath. God is looking for some good sailors, ones who know the subtleties of the wind’s movements and can adjust accordingly.

Now because the wind cannot be controlled and must simply be accepted for what it is, many people prefer motorboats. How much nicer it is to feel empowered from within and to be able to resolutely set our own course, no matter the wind! With a motorboat, there is little to no threat of being at the mercy of the winds. There is no need to relate to, or to be in relationship with the wind; there is no need of romancing the winds here! No, with a motorboat there is only the need to drive forward with a powerful motor, following one’s own designs.

Here is control; here is power; here is the sailor alone with his own will, dependent on little and on no other person. It is one man alone against the elements.

But motorboats are a mixed blessing. They require a good bit of gas, can be noisy, may require maintenance, may suffer breakdowns, and can be downright dangerous to other things and people around them.

And here, too, is another image of our soul interacting with God. For there are many who prefer to be under their own power, dependent on no one (including God) but themselves, acting and operating independently. They prefer not to have to sense the direction of the winds, watch for other signs, or consider other factors.

And just as with a motorboat, there are dangers associated with this sort of controlling person. Indeed, such individuals can be noisy “gas-guzzlers,” prone to breakdowns, and potentially hazardous to things and people around them. For in their perceived power they often truck through life, missing or ignoring its subtleties, and frequently causing harm to themselves and/or others. “Breakdowns” are almost predictable with this sort of person.

Most people prefer a motorboat, but God is more in the sailboat business. He’s looking for some good souls to sense the breeze of His Spirit, His Ruah; to sense that gentle breeze, hoist their sails, and follow where it leads.

We are invited to be more like a sailor, following the Spirit’s lead—yes, like a sailor, trusting in and yielding to a Godly breeze.

Do you prefer a motorboat or a sailboat? Are you a boater or a sailor?

Here is a remarkable video, not of a sailor at sea, but of a “land sailor,” a kite flier. Note the beautiful interaction as this man romances the wind, working with its subtleties and rejoicing in its moves as in a great dance.

March 30, 2016

Fearful Yet Overjoyed – The Journey to Resurrection Faith

The gospels of the Easter Octave describe not just an event, but even more so, a journey. We are tempted to think that the disciples and apostles, having seen the risen Lord, were immediately confirmed in their faith and stripped of all doubt.

But that is not the case. Nearly all of the resurrection accounts make it clear that although seeing the risen Lord was “mind-blowing,” it was still only a beginning. As it is with any human experience, no matter how intense, encountering the risen Lord was something that the disciples needed to process. They needed to come to live its implications in stages.

This description of a journey, of a coming to resurrection faith in stages, is presented in the resurrection accounts. We notice that the first awareness occurred “when it was still dark” and “at the rising of the sun.” But as we know, it does not suddenly become fully light at dawn. Rather, the light manifests itself and increases over time. And so it is with the awareness of the resurrection. It begins to “dawn” on the disciples that He is Risen, truly; He has appeared to Simon.

The first reports are murky and there is a lot of running around: Mary Magdalene to Peter and John, Peter and John to the tomb, the women to the rest of the apostles. Yes, there is an awful lot of running about! It is still dark and the “cobwebs” of recent sleep aren’t completely gone; the light is just dawning, not at full-noon strength.

The disciples wonder what it all means and how it has changed/will change their lives. The answers to questions like this will require a journey; they are not to be answered in a mere moment.

In one Gospel there is a beautiful line that describes the experience well:

Mary Magdalene and the other Mary went away quickly from the tomb,
fearful yet overjoyed (Matt 28:8).

Yes, such a beautiful description: fearful yet overjoyed (φόβου καὶ χαρᾶς μεγάλης (phobou kai charas megans = fearful and of great joy))!

What is one to make of all this? He is alive! Yet what does this mean? One’s life is changed, but how? One is filled with joy, yet draws back in a kind of reverential fear at the unknown, the unexperienced.

And so we see the women, encountering the risen Jesus on the road and they are fearful yet overjoyed. And again, while we might suppose that such an appearance would “seal the deal,” it is not that simple. Consider the following occurrences in the aftermath of the resurrection appearances and notice that a journey of sorts is required to make sense of it all.

Mary Magdalene doesn’t even recognize Jesus at first, but has to have her eyes adjusted by the faith that comes from hearing—in this case hearing her name, Mary, spoken by Jesus.
She also has to make the journey from merely clinging to Jesus as “Rabboni” and running to others to proclaim Him by saying, “I have seen The LORD.”
The disciples on the road to Emmaus don’t recognize Jesus at all until their eyes are opened in the Breaking of the Bread.
When the Apostles first see Jesus they draw back and think that they are seeing a ghost. He has to reassure them and clarify things for them.
Simon Peter, even after seeing the Lord several times, falls away from his mission and announces to the others that he is going back to fishing. The Lord has to stand on the shore and call him anew from his commercial nets to the sacred shepherding of the Petrine Ministry.
Even after witnessing forty days of appearances by Jesus and having been summoned to the mountain of the ascension, some see and believe but others still doubt.
And after the ascension, the day of Pentecost still finds the apostles and disciples huddled behind closed doors. Only after the coming of the Holy Spirit are they really empowered to go forth.

Yes, there is more to experiencing the resurrection than mere sight. Faith comes by hearing and deepens by experience. They have to make a journey to resurrection life and so must we.

Even for us, who were born in the teaching of the resurrection, the truer and deeper meaning of it all is not something that can be supplied simply by the reading the Catechism; it is grasped through a journey we must make.

As a priest and disciple, I have both observed and experienced that Good Friday is powerful and moving for many people. Most of us know the cross; we have experienced its blows and its presence is quite real and plain to us. On Good Friday there are often tears at the Stations of the Cross, the Trae Horae, and the evening service of the Lord’s Passion.

But come Easter Sunday morning the experience seems less certain. People are joyful, but somewhat unsure of why or how. The joy of Easter seems more remote than the brooding presence of Good Friday or the gloomy silence of Holy Saturday. Though those days are unpleasant, they are familiar. But Easter Sunday is different. What does it mean to rise from the dead? What are we to do in response? During Lent we fasted and undertook practices to focus us. But Easter is more open and vacuous: Joy! Alleluia! Now what?

It remains for us to lay hold of this new life that the Lord is offering to us. It is not enough to think of or see the resurrection as an event of two millennia ago. It is that, but it is so much more. It is new life for us. We rise with Christ.

How and what does this mean? That is discovered through the journey. It is the deeper and more personal experience of the historical event that the Lord accomplished for us. He has raised us to new life.

In my own journey I have had to move from the event itself to a deeper, personal, true experience of that event. I have come to experience the new life that Jesus died and rose to give me. I have seen sins put death and new graces come alive. I am more chaste, generous, joyful, hopeful, serene, and zealous. My mind is clearer; it is new. My priorities are in better order and I have clearer vision. My heart is more spacious. I have learned more deeply of God’s love and mercy for me, and can thus show it more to others.

Yes, this is the journey to the new life that the Lord died and rose to give me. Good Friday and the cross are rather obvious to most of us, but Easter Sunday takes more time to fully comprehend. It requires a journey through which we, like the early disciples, progress from fear to faith, from darkness to light, from the sleepiness of the early morning to the alert faith of midday.

It is the journey toward a true and lasting Easter. We never cease to be overjoyed, but our awe deepens from one that is bewildered in the face of the unknown to one that bespeaks knowing wonder at what the risen Lord is doing in our life. Our previously cringing fear becomes the holier fear of reverence and love.

Yes, Easter is an event, but it is also a journey. The faint light of early dawn gives way in stages to ever brighter awareness as we lay hold of the new life that Christ died and rose to give us. There is a beautiful line in the King James translation of the Bible that captures Simon Peter’s journey, which at that time was only just beginning:

Then arose Peter, and ran unto the sepulcher; and stooping down, he beheld the linen clothes laid by themselves, and departed, wondering in himself at that which was come to pass (Luke 24:12).

Peter now knows, even as he is known. For you and me, the journey of wonder, awe, and experience continues to unfold. I know more today than ever before (thank you, Lord), but so much more needs to unfold. It will, by God’s grace and in God’s time.

March 29, 2016

Blessed Are Those Who Die in the Lord – A Meditation on the Christian Attitude toward Death

The recent death of Mother Angelica provoked the expected saddness at the passing of such a great woman. Indeed, her vivacious and plain-spoken presence has long been missed during these years of her declining health. She called this her time of purgatory and purification. In an extraordinary grace, the Lord called her at 5:00 PM on Easter Sunday, likely the very time at which He was making His first appearances to His disciples at Emmaus and in Jersalem.

For the faithful—and Mother Mary Angelica was surely that—the day we die is the greatest day of our life on this earth. And even if some final purifications await us, the beatific vision for which we long lies just ahead; the exile in this valley of tears is ended.

Is calling the day we die the greatest day of our life too strong a statement? I have seen some fellow Christians wince when I say this. But in this age of emphasis on worldly comforts, medicine, and the secular, this age in which we rarely speak of Heaven (or Hell), I wonder if we have lost some of our longing for Heaven and cling too strongly to the trinkets of this life. I attended the funeral of the relative of a family friend some years ago. She was an unbeliever, a self-described secular humanist, and she made the following comment to me: “Perhaps there is Heaven for the faithful who believe there is life after death. And perhaps, then, to die is the greatest day of their life. But I do not observe that Christians live this way. It seems to me that they are as anxious as anyone else about dying, and earnestly seek to avoid death just as much as anyone else.”

It was a very interesting observation, one that I found mildly embarrassing even as legitimate explanations quickly entered my mind. And even after giving her some of those explanations, I must say that some of the embarrassment lingered as to the kind of witness we Christians sometimes fail to give to our most fundamental values. Based on her remark—and I’ve heard it before—most of us Christians don’t manifest a very ardent longing for Heaven.

There are, of course, some legitimate reasons that we do not rush towards death; there are also some less legitimate reasons. In this post, I’d like to briefly speak to some of these.

Here are some legitimate and understandable reasons that we may draw back from dying, and may not at first think of dying is the greatest day of our life:

There is a natural fear of dying that is part of our physical makeup and, it would seem, hard-wired into our psyche as well. Every sentient and physical being on this planet, man or animal, has a strong instinct for survival. Without this instinct, strongly tied to both hunger and sexual desire, we might not only die as individuals but as a species. It also drives us to look to the future, as we work to ensure the survival, even thriving, of our children and those who will come after us. So this is a basic human instinct that we ought not to expect to disappear, because it has necessary and useful aspects.
Most of us would like to finish certain important things before we die. It makes sense, for example, that parents would like to see their children well into adulthood before meeting their demise. Parents rightly see their existence in this world as critical to their children. Hence we love life here and cling to it not just for our own sake, but because we understand that others depend on us.
The Christian is called to love life at every stage. Most of us realize that we are called to love and appreciate what we have here, for it is the gift of God. To so utterly despise the world that we are almost suicidal and wish only to leave it, manifests a strange sort of ingratitude.

It also manifests a lack of understanding that life here prepares us for the fuller life that is to come. I remember that at a low point in my own life, afflicted with anxiety and depression, I asked the Lord to please end my life quickly and take me home out of this misery. And yet, without hearing words, I felt the Lord’s rebuke: “Until you learn to love the life you have now, you will not love eternal life. If you can’t learn to appreciate the glory of the gifts of this life, then you will not and cannot embrace the fullness of life that is called eternal life.” Indeed, I was seeing eternal life merely in terms of relief or escape from this life, rather than as the full blossoming of a life that has been healed and made whole. We don’t embrace life by trying to escape from it.

Thus a healthy Christian attitude learns to love life as we have it now, even as we yearn and strive for a life that we do not yet fully comprehend: a life that eye has not seen, nor ear heard; what God has prepared for those who love Him.

Most of us seek to set our life in order to some degree before we go to face judgment. While it is true that we can procrastinate, there is a proper sense of wanting time to make amends and to prepare in a fitting and growing way to meet God.
It is not necessarily death that we fear, but dying. Dying is something none of us has ever done before and we tend to fear the unknown. Further, most of us realize that dying itself involves some degree of agony. Instinctively and understandably, we draw back from such things.

Even Jesus, in His human nature, recoiled at the thought of the agony before Him, so much so that He sweat blood and asked, if possible, that the cup of suffering be taken from him. Manfully, though, He embraced His Father’s will, and our benefit rather than His. Still, He did recoil humanly at the suffering soon to befall Him.

Despite this hesitancy to meet death, for a faithful Christian the day we die is the greatest day of our life. And while we ought to regard the day of our judgment with sober reverence, we should go with joyful hope to the Lord who loves us and for whom we have longed. That day of judgment, awesome though it is, will for the future saint disclose only that which needs final healing in purgation, not that which merits damnation.

But we don’t hear much longing for our last day on this earth or for God and Heaven. Instead we hear fretting about how we’re “getting older.” We’re anxious about our health, even the natural effects of aging. And there are such grim looks as death approaches! Where is the joy one might expect? Does our faith really make a difference for us, or are we like those who have no hope? Older prayers referred to life on this earth as an exile and expressed a longing for God and Heaven. But few of today’s prayers or sermons speak this way.

Here are some of the not-so-legitimate reasons that we may draw back from dying:

We live comfortably. While comfort is not the same as happiness, it is very appealing. It is also very deceiving, seductive, and addictive. It is deceiving because it tends to make us think that this world can be our paradise. It is seductive because it draws and shifts us our focus away from the God of comforts to the comforts of God. We would rather have the gift than the Giver. It is addictive because we can’t ever seem to get enough of it; we seem to spend our whole life working toward gaining more and more comforts. We become preoccupied by achieving rather than working toward our truest happiness, which is to be with God in Heaven.
Comfort leads to worldliness. Here, worldliness means focusing on making the world more comfortable while allowing notions of God and Heaven to recede into the background. Even the so-called spiritual life of many Christians is almost wholly devoted to prayers asking to make this world a better place: “Fix my health. Fix my finances. Grant me that promotion.” And while it is not wrong to pray about these things, their cumulative effect, added to our silence on more spiritual and eternal things, gives the impression that we are saying to God, “Make this world a better place and I’ll just be happy to stay here forever.” What a total loss! This world is not the point; it is not the goal, Heaven is. Being with God forever is the point.
Worldliness makes Heaven and being with God seem more abstract and less desirable. With our magnificent comfort that leads to worldly preoccupation, Heaven and any talk of Heaven or going to be with God recedes to the background. In this climate, few speak of Heaven or even long for it. They’d rather just have that new cell phone or the cable upgrade with the sports package. Some say that they never hear about Hell anymore in sermons, and in many parishes (though not in mine, thank you) that is regrettably the case. But it is also true that they almost never of Heaven either (except in some cheesy funeral moments that miss the target altogether and make Heaven seem trivial rather than a glorious gift to be sought). Heaven just isn’t on most people’s radar, except as a vague abstraction for some far off time—certainly not now.

This is the perfect storm of comfort and worldliness leading to slothful aversion to heavenly gifts. That may be why, when I say that dying is the greatest day of our life, or that I am glad to be getting older because it means I’m getting closer to the time I can go home to God, or that I can’t wait to meet God, people look at me strangely and seem to wonder if I need therapy.

No, I don’t need therapy—at least not for this. I am simply expressing the ultimate longing of every human heart. Addiction to comfort has deceived and seduced us such that we are no longer in touch with our heart’s greatest longing; we cling to passing things. I would argue (as does my family friend) that we seem little different from those who have no hope. We no longer witness to a joyful journey to God that says, “Closer to Home! … Soon and very soon I am going to see the King … Soon I will be done with the troubles of this world … Going home to live with God!”

There are legitimate, understandable reasons for being averse to dying. But how about even a glimmer of excitement from the faithful as we see that our journey is coming to an end? St. Paul wrote the following to the Thessalonians regarding death: We do not want you to be like those who have no hope (1 Thess 4:13). Do we witness to the glory of going to be with God or not? It would seem not.

The video below features a rendition of the hymn “For All the Saints Who from Their Labors Rest.” Here is a brief passage from the lyrics:

The golden evening brightens in the West,
Soon, soon, to faithful warriors cometh rest.
Sweet is the calm of Paradise most blest. Alleluia!

Mother Mary Angelica, faithful warrior, rest in peace.

March 28, 2016

“And in the Morning Watch the Lord … Cast a Glance …” A Meditation on the Look of the Lord

There is an astonishing verse in the Exodus account, which was read at the Easter Vigil. The Lord has parted the waters of the Red Sea by a strong eastern wind and the Israelites have just made the crossing and the Egyptians pursued them. The verse says:

And in the morning watch the Lord in the pillar of fire and of cloud cast a glace on the Egyptian forces and threw the Egyptian forces into a panic (Ex 14:24).

Just one look … that’s all it took! One can imagine many other ways that God could have despoiled them: lightning, angelic forces, etc. Instead, the Lord merely “cast a glance.”

Was it an angry glance? The text does not say. I would propose, based purely on speculation, that it was a look of love. For if God is love, then how could it have been anything else?

Why then the panic among the Egyptian army forces? Perhaps it is like the reaction of those accustomed to the darkness, who wince in pain when beautiful light shines. Love confronts and drives out hate the way light drives out darkness. Love is what it is; it cannot be something else. But to those held bound by hatred, love is like kryptonite. And thus the Egyptian army falls at the glance of God, panics at the weakness it experiences. Yes, love can be like kryptonite.

So I propose that, despite the panicked result, God’s glance was one of love. God does not change. Even when we speak of His wrath or anger, we are speaking more of our experience than of what is in God. God is love and so He looks with love. That we experience something other than love is a problem in us, not in God.

Indeed, sometimes we see the look but miss the love. In the Gospel of Mark is told the story of a rich young man who sought perfection, but somewhat on his own terms. Jesus looked at him with love and said to him, “You lack one thing: go, sell all that you have and give to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; and come, follow me” (Mk 10:21). The young man saw the look and heard the words, but missed the love. Thus he was sad and fell away.

And lest we reduce God’s look of love to one of mere sentimentality, we ought to recall that God’s look of love can also convict us and move us to repentance. Peter’s denial of the Lord is recounted in all four of the Gospels. The Gospel of Luke describes it in this way: Simon Peter was in the courtyard of the high priest warming himself by the fire. He had just denied knowing the Lord for the third time when the cock crowed. The Lord turned and looked at Peter. And Peter remembered the word of the Lord, how He had told him, “Before a rooster crows today, you will deny Me three times.” And he went out and wept bitterly (Lk 22:61-62). Here was a look of love that caused pain, but it was a healing pain that led to repentance.

For those of us with deeper faith, we learn to count on the look, the glance of God, to save us. An old hymn says, “Though billows roll, He keeps my soul. My heav’nly Father watches over me.” And another song says, “His eye is on the sparrow and I know he watches me.”

Yes, the glance of God may make you feel sad, mad, or glad; but it is the look of love, always seeking to console, or to set us right and bring about healing.

I have a large icon of Christ in my room. In my opinion, what icons from the Eastern tradition do best is to capture “the look.” No matter where I move in the room, it seems that Christ is looking right at me. His look is intense, though not severe. In the Eastern spirituality, icons are windows into Heaven. Hence this icon is no mere portrait that reminds one of Christ; it is an image that mediates His presence. When I look upon Him, I experience that He knows me. He is looking at me with a knowing, comprehensive look.

The Book of Hebrews says of Jesus, No creature is concealed from him, but everything is naked and exposed to the eyes of him to whom we must render an account (Heb 4:13). Christ’s look in the icon in my room is not fearsome; it is serene and confident.

Particularly in Mark’s Gospel there is great emphasis on the eyes and the look of Jesus. The following expression, or one like it, appears more than 25 times in the Gospel of Mark: And looking at them He said, …

Looking on Christ and allowing Him to look on you is a powerful moment of conversion. Jesus Himself said, For my Father’s will is that everyone who looks to the Son and believes in him shall have eternal life, and I will raise him up at the last day (Jn 6:40). And in the First Letter of John we read, What we shall later be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is (1 Jn 3:2).

Keep looking to the Lord during this Easter season, through the art that most moves you and especially in the Most Blessed Sacrament. Look at Him and let Him look at you. Be not dismayed like the Egyptians of old. God is love and therefore His look is always one of love, no matter how we experience it.

The Lord is casting a glance at you right now. What do you see?

This video is a collection of clips from the movie The Passion of the Christ, set to music. It shows many of the looks of Jesus as well as some that come from us. Look for the “looks.”

March 27, 2016

Why Was the Resurrection Such a Hidden Event?

There is something of a hidden quality to the resurrection appearances that has always puzzled me. St. Peter gives voice to this when he says to Cornelius,

God raised Jesus from the dead on the third day and granted that he be visible, not to all people, but to us, the witnesses chosen by God in advance, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. He commissioned us to preach to the people and to testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead (Acts 10:41 to 42).

Note that Jesus did not appear openly to all but rather only to some. Why is this? It is so different from what most of us would do.

If I were God (and it is very good for you that I am not), I would rise from the dead very dramatically. Perhaps I would summon people to my tomb with trumpet blasts and then emerge amid great fanfare (including a multitude of angels), inspiring awe and striking fear in the hearts of the enemies who had killed me. Or maybe I would ride down on a lightning bolt right into the temple precincts and then go up to the high priest and tell him to seek other employment. Surely to accomplish such a feat would be an event that would never be forgotten! It would draw many to faith, would it not?

And yet the Lord does none of this! Not only did He appear only to some after His resurrection, but the actual dramatic moment of the resurrection itself seems to have been witnessed by no one at all. Instead of emerging from the tomb in broad daylight to the sound of trumpets, the Lord seems to have come forth before dawn to the sound of nothing but crickets chirping. Although St. Matthew mentions a great earthquake causing the rolling back of the stone and the guards stunned into unconsciousness, it seems that Jesus had already risen from the dead before the stone was rolled back.

Such a hidden event! It was the greatest event the world has ever known, and yet it was hidden from human eyes. No, this is not our way at all; Cecil B. DeMille would not be pleased.

And then when the Lord does appear, it is only to some. Two of the appearances have often intrigued me because the details are so sparse; they are really mentioned only in passing:

One is the appearance to Peter. It would seem that the Lord appeared to Peter before appearing to the other apostles on that first resurrection evening. For when the two disciples return from Emmaus they are greeted with the acclamation, The Lord has truly been raised, he has appeared to Simon (Luke 24:34). Shortly thereafter, the Lord appears to ten of the apostles, along with some of the disciples.

Why is there so little information about this appearance to Simon Peter? We are told in great detail about a conversation between Jesus and Peter two weeks later in Galilee (John 21), but of this first appearance in Jerusalem we get only this passing reference.

In a certain sense it is a very significant appearance because it elevates the resurrection from just “some news” that the women were sharing, to the apostolic proclamation, the Lord has truly been raised. What moves it from rumor to fact? The difference is that he has appeared to Simon. Here is a kind of early and seminal act of the Petrine office and the Magisterium! But of this crucial apparition, no details are supplied.

The other appearance cloaked in obscurity is His appearance to the five hundred, which Paul relates here:

He appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. After that He appeared to more than five hundred brethren at one time, most of whom remain until now, but some have fallen asleep (1 Cor 15:5-6).

This is an amazing appearance; it’s not to two or three, or even to a dozen, but to five hundred at once. And yet no details are supplied. Where did it happen? When? For how long? What did the Lord say? What did He do? Silence.

And then there are the resurrection appearances that never happened (but to worldly minds should have): Jesus’ appearance to His accusers and persecutors, to Caiaphas, to the Sanhedrin, to Pilate, and to all who jeered at Him as He hung on the cross. Surely they deserved a good dressing down—and they probably could’ve used it. Who knows, maybe they would have fallen to their knees and converted on the spot; maybe they would have worshiped Jesus.

Such are my thoughts on the strange and hidden quality of the resurrection. Why so hidden, why so selective an audience? Ultimately, I cannot say why; I can only venture a guess, a kind of theological hunch, if you will.

My speculation is rooted in the identity of God: God is love (1 Jn 4:16). Love is not merely something God does, nor is it just one of His many attributes. Scripture says that God is love. And it is the nature of true love (as opposed to lust) to woo the beloved, to invite rather than overwhelm, importune, force, or coerce. The lover wants to be loved, but to force the beloved to love or to overwhelm the cherished into a fearful love would mean not receiving true love in return.

It is in the nature of Satan to pressure, tempt, and overwhelm, in order to coerce us into sin. Satan is loud and loves to use fear as a motivator.

By contrast, God whispers. He calls us and gently draws us in. He supplies grace and evidence but does not overwhelm us with fearsome or noisy events. He is the still, small voice that Elijah heard after the fire and the earthquake (1 Kings 19:12). He is the One who has written His name in our hearts and whispers there quietly: Seek always the face of the Lord (1 Chron 16:11). At times He does allow our life to be shaken a bit, but even then it is more often something that He allows rather than directly causes.

God is not interested in loud, flashy entrances or in humiliating His opponents. He does not have a big ego. Even if He chose to compel the Temple leadership to worship Him by using shock and awe, it is unlikely that their faith response would be genuine. Faith that needs to see isn’t really faith; one doesn’t need faith to believe what he can plainly see with his own eyes.

Thus the Lord does rise from the dead and He does supply evidence to witnesses who had faith—at least enough faith to be rewarded. He then sends these eyewitnesses, supplies His graces, and gives us other evidence so that we can believe and love. But none of this is done in a way that overwhelms us or forces us to believe.

God is love, and love seeks a free and faithful response. The hiddenness of the resurrection is an example of tender love. There’s only so much that the human person can take. So the Lord rises quietly and appears (but only briefly) to some and then seems to withdraw—almost as if respectfully giving them time to process what they have experienced. He gives them time to deepen their faith and to come to terms with what was, for them, a completely new reality, one that would change their lives forever.

How different this is from the way we operate! So many of us think in terms of power, fame, glory, vindication, conquest, and so forth. How different God is! He is so often tender, hidden, and whispering. He doesn’t need to get “credit” for everything He does. He doesn’t need to crush His enemies. Rather, ruing the day on which their “no” might become a forever “no,” He works to win their love, always hoping for their conversion. Until then, He is always calling, willing, and giving grace. His mercies how tender, how firm to the end, our maker, defender, redeemer, and friend.

Why was the resurrection so hidden? God is love. And love woos, it does not wound. It invites, it does not incite. It calls, it does not crush. It respects, it does not rule or seek revenge. Yes, God is love.

Of her glorious Groom, the Church and Bride says,

Listen! My beloved! There he stands behind our wall, gazing through the windows, peering through the lattice … [He speaks to her and says], “Arise, my darling, my beautiful one, come with me” (Song 2:9-10).

Here’s how Cecil B. DeMille would do the Easter fire:

March 26, 2016March 26, 2016

My Way Gets Brighter, My Load Gets Lighter – A Homily on the Easter Emmaus Gospel

There are four different Gospels proposed by the Church for Easter Sunday. Here I offer a homily on the Lucan account of the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. I have written sermons and commentaries on two of the other Gospels; they are available here:

In this homily I reflect on the Emmaus Gospel (Luke 24:13-35) as a resurrection account, focusing on the journey of the two disciples out of darkness and into Easter light. (It is also clear that this whole Gospel account is a Mass, through and through, and I reflected on that aspect in another homily, available here: The Not-so-hidden Mass on the Road to Emmaus).

But on this Easter day, let’s focus on the journey of these two disciples in four stages, watching how their journey gets lighter and brighter as they go.

I. Despair – That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred. And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing him. He asked them, “What are you discussing as you walk along?” They stopped, looking downcast. One of them, named Cleopas, said to him in reply, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know of the things that have taken place there in these days?” And he replied to them, “What sort of things?” They said to him, “The things that happened to Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, how our chief priests and rulers both handed him over to a sentence of death and crucified him. But we were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel; and besides all this, it is now the third day since this took place. Some women from our group, however, have astounded us: they were at the tomb early in the morning and did not find his body; they came back and reported that they had indeed seen a vision of angels who announced that he was alive. Then some of those with us went to the tomb and found things just as the women had described, but him they did not see.” And he said to them, “Oh, how foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke!”

As the gospel scene opens, we see two people: one named Cleopas and the other not named. Perhaps the other disciple is you.

Though it may be midday, they are experiencing a great darkness. Let’s consider their condition in four ways.

They are Unfocused – As the curtain rises, we see these two, dejected and literally disoriented (they are traveling in the wrong direction, away from Jerusalem). It’s never a good idea to have Jerusalem behind you. Jerusalem is spiritual East, (oriens is the Latin word for east). Hence they are “dis-oriens,” disoriented; their focus is wrong. They are turned toward the west, toward darkness, away from the light and the resurrection.

So, too, for some (perhaps many) today whose focus is worldly and westward, rather than heavenly and eastward, toward spiritual Jerusalem. The second reading today says, Since you have been raised to new life with Christ, seek those things that are above, where Christ is seated at the right hand of God (Col 3:1).

They are Unaware – Jesus joins them and walks along with them. But the text says that their eyes were prevented from recognizing Him. We too quickly assume that it is the Lord who is preventing them. More likely, however, it is their sorrow or lack of faith that prevents them. The text describes them as looking downcast. This may speak to their sorrow, but it also indicates a certain lack of awareness and attention.

Sometimes we are so busy looking down that we forget to look up and remember the heavenly glory that should ever be our true focus. Psalm 121:1 says, I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. Were they to lift their eyes from their downcast state, they might become aware of who it is that is speaking to them! Instead, they are downcast and hence unaware of the saving presence of the very Lord they lament.

They are Unbelieving – They are well aware of the testimony of many in the Church that Jesus was alive, risen from the dead. They also know that this is the third day, for they refer to it as such. But they are sinfully stubborn in that they disregard the news of His resurrection (from the women and the apostles) and are leaving town. This is despite Jesus’ repeated promises that He would rise on the third day, the very day they are departing Jerusalem. Yes, they are unbelieving; they disregard the evidence of the very thing promised. Too easily we can do the same, collapsing at the slightest misfortune despite the countless blessings of the Lord.
They are uninstructed – And thus the Lord rebukes them as foolish for being slow to believe what the prophets had written. The Lord likely does not use the word “foolish” to mean stupid or bumbling (today’s connotation). Rather, He is probably using the meaning common at the time: uninstructed in biblical wisdom. Foolish usually meant unwise, out of touch with or uninstructed in the wisdom of God. Thus the Lord rebukes their forgetfulness of God’s wisdom, as set forth in the Holy Scriptures. They are thinking as men think, not as God (cf Mat 16:23) thinks; they are thinking in worldly ways not in the ways of wisdom. We, too, can easily fall prey to worldly thinking if we neglect the biblical texts and are slow of heart to believe what God teaches us therein.

II. Decoding – “Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures.

The Lord decodes the recent events by teaching them, from the Word of God, what had been set forth about the Messiah.

What is Scripture? Scripture is the prophetic declaration of reality. It says, “This is what is really going on, no matter what you or others might think.”

And thus Jesus the Christ was fulfilling God’s plan. Nothing had gone wrong; nothing was out of control. The pride of Satan was defeated by the humble suffering of Christ; the disobedience of man was now replaced by the obedience of the God Man, Jesus. We are saved by the human decision of a divine person.

And for us who are too easily dismayed by the apparent (and short-term) triumph of evil and injustice comes the decoding of history: the cross wins; it always wins. Although it remains a cross, for down through the ages the faithful experience suffering and injustice, it always wins. Sunday always comes and an eternal Sunday dawns one day for all of the faithful.

No matter what you think is happening, this is what is really happening. The Paschal mystery decodes all history: the passion, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ—this what is really happening. We are always carrying in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies (2 Cor 4:10). Jesus is the resurrection and the life and all who believe in Him will live.

III. Disclosure – As they approached the village to which they were going, he gave the impression that he was going on farther. But they urged him, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.” So he went in to stay with them. And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight.

Despite the evening hour, it is gradually getting brighter. Their hearts have been stirred by this walk with the Lord, who though hidden, has addressed their burdens, given them hope, and supplied meaning to the recent painful events.

The words of an old hymn come to mind: “My load gets lighter; my way gets brighter; walking up the King’s highway.” Something tells them that this must continue, that it must grow ever deeper. They ask the hidden Lord to stay.

Meals in the ancient world were about more than food; they were also about relationships. Meals were both a sign and a cause of greater intimacy and depth in relationships. And this is to be no ordinary meal.

Clearly this entire pericope has been a Mass, from the gathering of two or three, to the presence of the Lord, to the instruction in His Word, and now to the celebration of the Eucharist. The Lord took the bread, blessed it and broke and gave it to them. No Catholic can fail to hear the words of this familiar action and not realize that this is the Eucharist.

And for us the purpose is the same: that our load gets lighter, that our way gets brighter, and that we grow more deeply related to the Lord, who saves us. It is in this context that the Lord’s fundamental disclosure Lord takes place. Their eyes are opened and they recognize Him in “the breaking of the Bread,” the ancient Christian description of the Holy Eucharist.

Two sad and downcast disciples journey with the Lord. As their load gets lighter and their way gets brighter, they can finally the Lord, who has never abandoned them is now disclosed to them by faith, the Word of God, and the Sacrament. Is this how you experience the Mass and your Christian walk?

IV. Declaration – Then they said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?” So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem where they found gathered together the eleven and those with them who were saying, “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of bread.

No one goes away from Jesus unchanged. These men, having experienced the Lord profoundly, are now changed. They reverse course; they are “reoriented.” They return to Jerusalem and to the Church, gathered. There, they share with the others the joy that they have experienced. Is this how you leave Mass each Sunday?

Though it is now late in the evening, the spiritual darkness has cleared; the night is as bright as the day. Jesus is risen; they have seen the Lord. The declaration of the Church is clear: “The Lord has been truly raised!” If the Church ever stops being able to experience and declare this, we will no longer be the Church. But as it is, Christ has been raised, and this has been our declaration to an often skeptical, sad world.

It is Easter and we have seen the journey of these two disciples out of darkness and into light. One was named Cleopas; are you the other unnamed disciple? How? What is your story?