I have met a good number of people who at one time said that they would never become Catholic yet now are; some are lay leaders in the Church and some are even priests! I have met other people who at one time said that they would never believe in God, yield to any religious instruction, or confess to “any man,” yet now they do (and teach others to do the same).
Growing up I never thought that I’d become a priest; the thought just never occurred to me. And if you told me in those days that Iwould one day be a priest, I would have laughed. But here I am, more than 30 years a priest and quite happy, thank you very much.
“Never say never.” It’s one of those wonderful phrases in which you break the rule in the very act of announcing it. God must laugh when we tell him our plans, and especially when we say, “Never.”
Pray God, though, that we never say that final “No” to Him, and that we never leave our sacred duties. May we seldom say never, but when we do, may it be when it matters.
In the Office of Readings this week, we examine some of the more terrifying passages from the Book of Revelation, related to the seven trumpets, seals, and bowls of wrath. There is also a reference to the underreported “seven thunders,” reminding us that there are some things that are not for us to know.
Then I saw another mighty angel coming down from heaven. He was robed in a cloud, with a rainbow above his head; his face was like the sun, and his legs were like fiery pillars. He was holding a little scroll, which lay open in his hand. He planted his right foot on the sea and his left foot on the land, and he gave a loud shout like the roar of a lion. When he shouted, the voices of the seven thunders spoke. And when the seven thunders spoke, I was about to write; but I heard a voice from heaven say, “Seal up what the seven thunders have said and do not write it down” (Rev 10:1-4).
A similar passage occurs in the Book of Daniel. Having had certain things revealed to him, Daniel is told,
But thou, O Daniel, shut up the words and seal the book, even to the time of the end (Dan 12:4).
To the Apostles, who pined for knowledge of the last things, Jesus said,
It is not for you to know the times or the seasons, which the Father hath put in his own power (Acts 1:7).
In all of these texts we are reminded that there are some things—even many things (seven is a number indicating fullness)—that are not for us to know. This is a warning against sinful curiosity and a solemn reminder that not all of God’s purposes or plans are revealed to us.
Several reasons come to mind for this silence and for the command to seal up the revelation of the seven thunders:
It is an instruction against arrogance and sinful curiosity. Especially today, people seem to think that they have right to know just about anything. The press speaks of the people’s “right to know.” And while this may be true about the affairs of government, it is not true about people’s private lives, and it is surely not true about all the mysteries of God. There are just some things that we have no right to know, that are none of our business. Much of our prying is a mere pretext for gossip and for the opportunity to see others’ failures and faults. It is probably not an exaggeration to say that more than half of what we talk about all day long is none of our business.
It is a rebuke of our misuse of knowledge. Sadly, especially in the “information age,” we speak of knowledge as power. We seek to know in order to control, rather than to repent and conform to the truth. We think that we should be able to do anything that we know how to do. Even more reason, then, that God should withhold from us the knowledge of many things; we’ve confused knowledge with wisdom and have used our knowledge as an excuse to abuse power, to kill with nuclear might, and to pervert the glory of human life with “reproductive technology.” Knowledge abused in this way is not wisdom; it is foolishness and is a path to grave evils.
It is to spare us from the effects of knowing things that we cannot handle. The very fact that the Revelation text above describes this knowledge as “seven thunders” indicates that these hidden utterances are of fearful weightiness. Seven is a number that refers to the fullness of something, so these are loud and devastating thunders. God, in His mercy to us, does not reveal all the fearsome terrors that will come upon this sinful world, which cannot endure the glorious and fiery presence of His justice. Too much for this world are the arrows of His quiver, which are never exhausted. Besides the terrors already foretold in Scripture, the seven thunders may well conceal others that are unutterable and too horrifying for the world to endure. Ours is a world that is incapable of enduring His holiness or of standing when He shall appear.
What, then, is to be our stance in light of the many things too great for us to know and that God mercifully conceals from us? We should have the humility of a child, who knows what he does not know but is content that his father knows.
O Lord, my heart is not proud nor haughty my eyes. I have not gone after things too great nor marvels beyond me.
Truly I have set my soul in silence and peace. Like a weaned child on its mother’s lap, even so is my soul.
O Israel, hope in the Lord both now and forever (Psalm 131).
Yes, like humble children we should seek to learn, realizing that there are many things that are beyond us, that are too great for us. We should seek to learn, but in a humility that is reverence for the truth, a humility that realizes that we are but little children, not lords and masters.
Scripture says, Beyond these created wonders many things lie hid. Only a few of God’s works have we seen (Sirach 43:34).
Thank you, Lord, for what you have taught us and revealed to us. Thank you, too, for what you have mercifully kept hidden because it is too much for us to know. Thank you, Lord. Help us learn and keep us humble, like little children.
There is an engaging image of the Church contained in a passage from last week’s Office of Readings. It is instructive because it speaks not only of themselves but of the power that makes them.
It is appropriate that we should receive the body of Christ in the form of bread, because, as there are many grains of wheat in the flour from which bread is made by mixing it with water and baking it with fire, so also we know that many members make up the one body of Christ which is brought to maturity by the fire of the Holy Spirit ….
Similarly, the wine of Christ’s blood, drawn from the many grapes of the vineyard that he had planted, is extracted in the wine-press of the cross. When men receive it with believing hearts, like capacious wineskins, it ferments within them by its own power(From a sermon by Saint Gaudentius of Brescia, bishop, Tract 2 CSEL 68, 30-32).
Most of us are familiar with the image of bread as the coming together of many individual grains. The ancient Eucharistic hymn from the Didache, as reworked a bit in the modern hymn “Father We Thank Thee,” contains these lyrics:
As grain, once scattered on the hillsides,
was in this broken bread made one,
so from all lands Thy Church be gathered
into Thy kingdom by Thy Son.
This is certainly a powerful image, however, grains brought together are still just a pile of flour. It takes water to truly unite them into a batch of dough. For us, the water that must unite us is the water of our Baptism. Thus, Gaudentius says, bread is made [first]by mixing it with water.In our Baptism we are made members of the Body of Christ by dying with Him and rising to new life. It is, then, and first of all, the water of Baptism that unites us.
However, bread is incomplete until it is baked, until it is subject to the fire. Thus, Gaudentius teaches more fully, bread is made by mixing it with water and baking it with fire … [and thus] the one body of Christ is brought to maturity by the fire of the Holy Spirit …. We know how the Lord gathered His disciples and apostles, uniting them to Himself, but we also know how weak and confused they often were until the coming of the Holy Spirit like wind and tongues of fire. It was the Fire of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost that quickened them, that matured them.
I am aware that many like to speak of Pentecost as the birthday of the Church, a saying that goes back to the Fathers of the Church. A birthday, however, brings thoughts of infancy and immaturity. I prefer, therefore, to see Pentecost more as a commencement or graduation of the Church, fully instructed and now brought to maturity by the Fire of the Holy Spirit.
Speaking also to the Blood of Christ transubstantiated from the “blood” of many grapes, St. Gaudentius reminds us of the source of the power that unites those many grapes: they are extracted in the wine-press of the cross. It is from this wine that He makes His Blood, this fourth cup of the Passover meal, this wine that He would not taste again until He drank it with the apostles anew in the Kingdom of His Father (cfMatt 26:29).
Consider well, then, fellow Catholics, the font that unites us, the Fire who matures us, and the power of the cross that brings forth the chalice of salvation.
The Prayer for Divine Mercy Sunday says all of this beautifully:
God of everlasting mercy,
who in the very recurrence of the paschal feast,
kindle the faith of the people you have made your own,
increase, we pray, the grace you have bestowed,
that all may grasp and rightly understand
in what font they have been washed,
by whose Spirit they have been reborn,
by whose Blood they have been redeemed.
Through our Lord Jesus Christ, your Son,
who lives and reigns with you in the unity of the Holy Spirit,
one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
N.B. There is a video version of this homily below
In today’s Gospel we encounter two discouraged and broken men making their way to Emmaus. The text describes them as “downcast.” That is to say, their eyes are cast on the ground, their heads are hung low. Their Lord and Messiah has been killed, the one they had thought would finally liberate Israel. Some women had claimed that He was alive, but these disciples have discredited those reports and are now leaving Jerusalem. It is late in the afternoon and the sun is sinking low.
They are also moving in the wrong direction, West, away from Jerusalem, away form the resurrection. They have their backs to the Lord, rising in the East.
The men cannot see or understand God’s plan. They cannot “see” that He must be alive, just as they were told. They are quite blind as to the glorious things that happened hours before. In this, they are much like us, who also struggle to see and understand that we have already won the victory. Too easily our eyes are cast downward in depression rather than upward in faith.
How will the Lord give them vision? How will He reorient them, turn them in the right direction? How will He enable them to see His risen glory? How will He encourage them to look up from their downward focus and behold new life?
If you are prepared to “see” it, the Lord will celebrate Holy Mass with them. In the context of a sacred meal we call the Mass, He will open their eyes and they will recognize Him; they will see glory and new life.
Note that the entire gospel, not just the last part, is in the form of a Mass. There is a gathering, a penitential rite, a Liturgy of the Word, intercessory prayers, a Liturgy of the Eucharist, and an ite missa est. In this manner of a whole Mass, they have their eyes opened to Him and to glory. They will fulfill the psalm that says, Taste, and see, the goodness of the Lord (Psalm 34:8).
Let’s examine this Mass, which opens their eyes, and ponder how we also taste and see in every Mass.
Stage One: Gathering Rite – The curtain rises on this Mass with two disciples having gathered together on a journey: Now that very day two of them were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus (Lk 24:13). We have already discussed above that they are in the midst of a serious struggle and are downcast. We only know one of them by name, Cleopas. Who is the other? If you are prepared to accept it, the other is you. So, they have gathered. This is what we do as the preliminary act of every Mass. We who are pilgrims on a journey come together on our journey.
It so happens for these two disciples that Jesus joins them:And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them (Luke 24:15). The text goes on to tell us that they did not recognize Jesus yet.
The Lord walks with us, too. It is essential to acknowledge by faith that when we gather together at Mass the Lord Jesus is with us. Scripture says, For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them (Matt 18:20). For many of us, too, although Jesus is present we do not recognize Him. Yet he is no less among us than He was present to these two disciples who fail to recognize Him.
Liturgically, we acknowledge the presence of the Lord at the beginning of the Mass in two ways. First, as the priest processes down the aisle the congregation sings a hymn of praise. It is not “Fr. Jones” they praise; it is Jesus, whom “Fr. Jones” represents. Once at the chair the celebrant (who is really Christ) says, “The Lord be with you.” In so doing He announces the presence of Christ among us promised by the Scriptures.
The Mass has now begun and our two disciples are gathered; the Lord is with them. So, too, for us at every Mass. The two disciples still struggle to see the Lord, to experience new life, and to realize that the victory has already been won. So, too, do some of us who gather for Mass. The fact that these disciples are gathered is already the beginning of the solution. Mass has begun. Help is on the way!
Stage Two: Penitential Rite – The two disciples seem troubled and the Lord inquires of them the source of their distress: What are you discussing as you walk along? (Lk 24:17). In effect, the Lord invites them to speak with Him about what is troubling them. It may also be a gentle rebuke from the Lord that the two of them are walking away from Jerusalem, away from the site of the resurrection.
Clearly their sorrow and distress are governing their behavior. Even though they have already heard evidence of Jesus’ resurrection (cf 24:22-24), they seem hopeless and have turned away from this good news.
Thus the Lord engages them in a kind of gentle penitential rite, engages them about their negativity.
So, too, for us at Mass. The penitential rite is a moment when the celebrant (who is really Christ) invites us to lay down our burdens and sins before the Lord, who alone can heal us. We, too, often enter the presence of God looking downcast and carrying many burdens and sins. Like these disciples, we may be walking in the wrong direction. In effect, the Lord says to us, “What are thinking about and doing as you walk along? Where are you going with your life?”
The Lord asks them to articulate their struggles. This calling to mind of struggles, for them that day and for us in the penitential rite, is a first step to healing and recovery of sight.
Again, we see in this story about the two disciples on the road to Emmaus, the Mass that is so familiar to us.
Stage Three: Liturgy of the Word – In response to their concerns and struggles, the Lord breaks open the Word of God, the Scriptures: Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the scriptures (Luke 24:27).
Not only does the Lord refer to Scripture, He interprets it for them. Hence the Word is not merely read; there is a homily, an explanation and application of the Scripture to the men’s struggles. The homily must have been a good one, too, for the disciples later remark, Were not our hearts burning (within us) while he spoke to us on the way and opened the scriptures to us? (Luke 24:32)
So, too, for us at Mass. Whatever struggles we may have brought, the Lord bids us to listen to His Word as the Scriptures are proclaimed. Then the homilist (who is really Christ) interprets and applies the Word to our life. Although the Lord works through a weak human agent (the priest or deacon), He can write straight with crooked lines. As long as the homilist is orthodox, it is Christ who speaks. Pray for your homilist to be an obedient and useful instrument for Christ at the homily moment.
Notice, too, that although the disciples do not yet fully see, their downcast attitude is gone; their hearts are now on fire. Pray God, that it will be so for us who come to Mass each week and hear from God that the victory is already ours in Christ Jesus. God reminds us, through Scripture passages that repeat every three years, that although the cross is part of our life, the resurrection surely is, too. We are carrying our crosses to an eternal Easter victory. If we are faithful to listening to God’s Word, hope and joy build within our hearts and we come, through being transformed by Christ in the Liturgy, to be men and women of hope and confidence.
Stage Four: Intercessory Prayers – After the homily, we usually make prayers and requests of Christ. We do this based on the hope, provided by His Word, that He lives, loves us, and is able. So it is that we also see these two disciples request of Christ, Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over (Luke 24:29).
Is this not what we are doing when we say, in so many words, “Stay with us, Lord, for it is sometimes dark in our lives and the shadows are growing long. Stay with us, Lord, and with those we love, so that we will not be alone in the dark. In our darkest hours, be to us a light, O Lord, a light that never fades away”?
Indeed, it is already getting brighter, for we are already more than halfway through the Mass!
Stage Five: Liturgy of the Eucharist – Christ does stay with them. Then come the lines that no Catholic could miss: And it happened that, while he was with them at table, he took bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them (Luke 24:30). Yes, it is the Mass to be sure. All the basic actions of the Eucharist are there: He took, blessed, broke, and gave. They are the same actions that took place at the Last Supper and that we repeat at every Mass. Later, the two disciples refer back to this moment as the breaking of the bread (Luke 24:35), a clear biblical reference to the Holy Eucharist.
The words of Mass immediately come to mind: “While they were at supper, He took the bread and gave you thanks and praise. He broke the bread, gave it to His disciples, and said, “Take this all of you and eat it. This is my Body, which will be given up for you.”
A fascinating thing then occurs: With that their eyes were opened and they recognized him, but he vanished from their sight (Luke 24:31).
It is the very act of consecration that opens their eyes. Is this not what Holy Communion is to do for us? Are we not to learn to recognize Christ by the very mysteries we celebrate? Are we not to “taste and see”?
The liturgy and the sacraments are not mere rituals; they are encounters with Jesus Christ. Through our repeated celebration of the holy mysteries, our eyes are increasingly opened, if we are faithful. We learn to see and hear Christ in the liturgy, to experience his ministry to us.
The fact that Jesus vanishes from their sight teaches us that He is no longer seen with the eyes of the flesh, but with the eyes of faith and the eyes of the heart. Although He is gone from our earthly, fleshly, carnal sight, He is now to be seen in the sacrament of the altar and experienced in the Liturgy and in other sacraments. The Mass has reached its pinnacle for these two disciples and for us. They have tasted and now they see.
Consider these two men who began this Gospel quite downcast. Their hearts are on fire and they now see. The Lord has celebrated Mass in order to get them to this point. So, too, for us: the Lord celebrates Mass in order to set our hearts on fire and open our eyes to glory. We need to taste in order to see.
I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears. Those who look to him are radiant; their faces are never covered with shame. This poor man called, and the Lord heard him; he saved him out of all his troubles. … Taste and see that the Lord is good; blessed is the man who takes refuge in him (Psalm 34:4-8).
Yes, blessed are we if we faithfully taste in order to see, every Sunday at Mass.
Stage Six: Ite Missa Est– Not able to contain their joy or hide their experience, the two disciples run seven miles back to Jerusalem to tell their brethren what has happened and how they encountered Jesus in the breaking of the bread. They want to, they must speak of the Christ they have encountered, what He said and what He did.
Note that this liturgy has reoriented them. They are now heading back east, toward the Risen Son.
How about us? At the end of every Mass, the priest or deacon says, “The Mass is ended. Go in peace.” This does not mean, “We’re done, go home and have nice day.” It means, “Go into the world and bring the Christ you have received to others. Tell them what you have seen and heard here, what you have experienced. Share with others the joy and hope that this Liturgy gives.”
Have you ever noticed that part of the word “mission” is in the word “dismissal”? You are being commissioned, sent on a mission to announce Christ to others.
Finally, the Lucan text says of these two disciples, So they set out at once and returned to Jerusalem where they found gathered together the eleven and those with them … Then the two recounted what had taken place on the way and how he was made known to them in the breaking of the bread (Lk 24:33,35). How about us? Does our Mass finish that well, that enthusiastically? Can you tell others that you have come to Christ in “the breaking of the bread,” in the Mass?
Jesus has used the Mass to drawn them from gloom to glory, from downcast to delighted, from darkness to light. It was the Mass. Do you “see” it there? It is the Mass. What else could it be?
In the video below we are shown many acts of bravery, heroism, courage and overcoming. In times like these we need to be reminded of that part of the human spirit that is unrelenting in meeting challenges and will not simply cower in fear or depression. Individuals will sometimes fall and give way to defeat, but collectively there is a powerful human capacity that God has given us to discover who we are in adversity. We learn new strengths and ways to adapt. To all doomsayers, I say, watch this video and remember that God has called us to victory, even if in sometimes paradoxical ways:
Jesus gives a concise summary of the work and experience of the Church in His discourse with Nicodemus, which we read at Tuesday’s daily Mass:
Amen, amen I say to you, we speak of what we know, and we testify to what we have seen, but you people do not accept our testimony (Jn 3:11).
I. Plural – Note that when Jesus speaks to Nicodemus He does not say, “I speak to you.” He says, “We speak to you.” The use of the first-person plural is common in Johannine literature. For example, at the beginning of the First Letter of John it is said, That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked at and our hands have touched—this we proclaim concerning the Word of life (1 John 1:1).
Who is the “we” referred to here? As with most things in Scripture, there are layers of meaning. First, it certainly means the apostolic college. On a wider level it refers to the first eyewitnesses, the disciples who heard and saw Jesus and were able to report what He said and did. Even more widely the “we” is the Church down through the centuries. The Church here is more than an institution; it is the Body of Christ, the living, active presence of Jesus Christ in the world.
II. Proclamation – “We speak of what we know, and we testify to what we have seen.” Just after the resurrection, the common expression of apostles and disciples is this: “I have seen the Lord” (e.g., John 20:18, 20:25). If the Church could no longer say this, she would no longer be the Church! If she could no longer say, “Jesus is Lord. We know this; we experience this; and we see it with our eyes,” then she would no longer be the Church.
Note that in the biblical sense, the word “know” does not simply refer to intellectual knowing, as if the Church were merely reciting words written centuries ago. Biblical knowing emphasizes experience; something known means something actually seen and experienced, not just learned in the abstract. The Church does not simply know Jesus is Lord and speak of it as if regurgitating reciting ancient formulas, precious though they are. Rather, she speaks of her experience with the Lord Jesus Christ in the sacred liturgy and of His powerful ministry to all her members throughout time.
The proclamation of the Church is that we speak to the world of what we know, what we have experienced. To emphasize this, Jesus adds that the proclamation of the Church is not simply what we know but what we have “seen.” Here, too, a tangible experience is referenced. This is the proclamation of ancient truths, presently experienced—seen. In other words, the Church can raise her right hand and swear to the truth of all that Jesus has said and done because she knows it; she experiences it; she has seen it—she has witnessed it occurring.
Indeed, souls are healed and set free, and human beings are gloriously transformed by the celebration of her sacred liturgy with her Blessed Groom and Lord, Jesus Christ.
The Church announces her experience with Jesus Christ, with the ability of His Word and truth to transform her and her members. The Church proclaims to the world, “We testify to what we have known and what we have seen.”
III. Persecution – Then Jesus says to Nicodemus, and by extension to the world, “You do not accept our testimony.”
It is often the lot of the Church to be scorned, ridiculed, and mocked—even hated and persecuted—because of our proclamation. There are many who demand that the Church conform to the world and its ideas and values.
Yet, as Pope Paul VI noted in Humanae Vitae, one of the Church’s most rejected encyclicals,
There is too much clamorous outcry against the voice of the Church, and this is intensified by modern means of communication. But it comes as no surprise to the Church that she, no less than her divine Founder, is destined to be a “sign of contradiction.” She does not, because of this, evade the duty imposed on her of proclaiming humbly but firmly the entire moral law, both natural and evangelical (#18).
The Church is to be this sign of contradiction. Yes, we must often stand up before a worldly consensus and say no, regardless of how many around us who say yes. It is the lot of the Church to experience rejection and to have to say, “You do not accept our testimony.”
Yet this is judgment, for Jesus says, Light has come into the world, but people loved darkness instead of light because their deeds were evil. Everyone who does evil hates the light (John 3:19-20). St. Paul adds, For the time will come when people will not put up with sound doctrine. Instead, to suit their own desires, they will gather around them a great number of teachers to say what their itching ears want to hear (2 Tim 4:3). Simeon, as he held the infant Jesus and thereby the infant Church, is recorded as saying this: This child is destined to cause the falling and rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted (Lk 2:34).
Yes, this is our place—among the persecuted, scorned, and derided. The Church must be willing to say to the world, “You do not accept our testimony.” We must not “cave.” Too many people today, wanting the Church to be “relevant,” and “acceptable,” insist that we alter our doctrines so that the world will accept our testimony. God forbid the Church ever do this, for we would no longer be the Church!
Here, then, is Jesus’ charter—His mandate—for the Church: that we should say to the world, “We speak to you of what we know and of what we have seen, but you do not accept our testimony.”
As we all know, this was perhaps the strangest Easter that any of us have experienced at least collectively. The liturgical calendar shouts new life and victory over the grave, and yet throughout the world, many are hunkered down in the fear of death. Despite the Easter glow these are dark days for many who suffer illness or economic stress. But, to be sure, the first Easter was experienced in great uncertainty and danger.
Recent readings from Scripture have this theme. The readings in daily Mass this past week (from the Acts of the Apostles) show the joy of a poor, lame man healed by Peter and John at the Gate called Beautiful. By week’s end Peter and John were arrested for the “dangerous” act of glorifying Jesus and forced to appear before the Jewish court. More suffering and arrests would follow.
In the Office of Readings, we are reading from the First Letter of Peter, which is a kind of survival guide for those who suffer on account of Jesus. Consider these excerpts from this past week:
Do not be surprised, beloved, that a trial by fire is occurring in your midst. It is a test for you, but it should not catch you off guard. Rejoice instead, in the measure that you share Christ’s sufferings. When his glory is revealed, you will rejoice exultantly. Happy are you when you are insulted for the sake of Christ, for then God’s Spirit in its glory has come to rest on you ….
The season of judgment has begun, and begun with God’s own household. If it begins this way with us, what must be the end for those who refuse obedience to the gospel of God? And if the just man is saved only with difficulty, what is to become of the godless and the sinner? Accordingly, let those who suffer as God’s will requires continue in good deeds, and entrust their lives to a faithful Creator….
Stay sober and alert. Your opponent the devil is prowling like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, solid in your faith, realizing that the brotherhood of believers is undergoing the same sufferings throughout the world. The God of all grace, who called you to his everlasting glory in Christ, will himself restore, confirm, strengthen, and establish those who have suffered a little while. Dominion be his throughout the ages! Amen (1 Peter 4:12-5:14).
The ancient Church had little time for the sentimentality of Easter Bunnies and Easter egg hunts. Jesus was born to do battle and rose to show forth the victory. But a victory presupposes a battle and a struggle.
The Sequence that should be sung during the Easter Octave is as follows:
Mors et vita duello, (Death and life have contended) conflixere mirando: (in a stupendous conflict) dux vitae mortuus, (The Prince of life having died) regnat vivus! (Now reigns living).
Easter is serious business with a message that summons us to the battle with confidence. In effect the message is this:
The Pentecost experience seemed to convict and encourage them and us: Enough of all this cowardice. No more hiding out in upper rooms. Get out there like soldiers who know you are on the winning team. Manfully engage the battle and win some souls for Christ. As in any war, there is going to be suffering. Jesus says, In this world you shall have tribulation; but have confidence I have overcome the world (John 16:33). The Easter message is not that there is no battle, but rather that the battle is a glorious one whose outcome has already been decided. Choose sides!
Scripture says,
Jesus Christ is the faithful witness, the firstborn of the dead and ruler of the kings of the earth. To Him who loves us and has freed us from our sins by His Blood, who has made us into a Kingdom, priests for His God and Father, to Him be glory and power forever and ever. Amen. Behold, He is coming amid the clouds, and every eye will see Him, even those who pierced Him. All the peoples of the earth will lament Him. Yes, Amen. “I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “the One who is and who was and who is to come, the Almighty” (Rev 1:5-8).
Make sure you are on the winning team. Some people foolishly choose the wrong side, thinking that winning means having power, popularity, money, and possessions—that is not victory. A team can be ahead until the final play of the game yet still lose. You already know who is going to win; present appearances mean nothing. Choose the winning team even if, for now, it means being subjected to suffering, ridicule, disapproval, and desertion. Be ready and willing to suffer for the Kingdom. The Easter message is not that there is no suffering, but that our suffering, united to Jesus’, will lead to glory and victory.
Stop acting like a loser, hiding out and being afraid to announce the truth of the gospel. Stop being so anxious about what others are saying. You may be called hateful, bigoted, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic, backward, and uptight—anything but a child of God. Do not hate them, but keep on summoning them to join us; know that some will do so if you persevere. Be willing to suffer for the truth and still remain joyful.
Peter and John were arrested in the first week after Pentecost; can’t we at least tolerate a raised eyebrow or some laughter at our expense? The martyrs stared down deadly threats; they endured the swords and lions of a hateful, scornful world. Must they bear the cross alone?
The Easter message is not one of cheap joy. It is about a courageous transformation that equips us to be willing to face down death in order to proclaim the truth of the gospel. Even after this plague ends, we are going to need courage and perseverance in the months and years ahead. This fallen world has been getting darker, and a people who are used to the darkness despise the light. To those who hate the truth, the truth seems hateful; they will call themselves righteous as they expel us from the public square. They already label themselves victims at the mere utterance of moral truth. “Safe zones” have no room for us. Despite all their calls for tolerance, there will be no tolerance shown to us. Our speech and our actions will be increasingly criminalized. Thus, beyond the plague, these challenges still face us.
So here is an Easter exhortation in tough times. But remember, Jesus is risen from the dead and He is not going away. He has won the victory and we will either gather souls with Him, or we will scatter and squander. I will work for Him and win, or I will contend with Him and lose. I think I’ll choose Jesus!
The song in the clip below has these lyrics:
I told Jesus it would be alright if He changed my name
I told Jesus it would be alright if He changed my name
I told Jesus it would be alright if He changed my name
And He told me that I would go hungry if He changed my name
And He told me that I would go hungry if He changed my name
Yes He told me that I would go hungry if He changed my name
But I told Jesus it would be alright if He changed my name
I told Jesus it would be alright if He changed my name
So I told Him it would be alright and the world would hate me
That I would go hungry if He changed my name
In the afterglow of Divine Mercy Sunday it seems opportune to make a few observations about the glorious mercy of our Lord. As a prelude we ought to set aside some mistaken notions of mercy.
We live in times in which mercy, like so many other things, has become a detached concept in people’s minds,separated from the things that really help us to understand it. For indeed, mercy makes sense and is necessary because we are sinners in desperate shape. Yet many today think it unkind and unmerciful to speak of sin and to refer to people sinners. Many think that mercy is a declaration that God doesn’t really care about sin, or that sin is not a relevant concept. Too many conceive of mercy as God’s approval of what they are doing. But of course, if God did approve of everything we do, including our sin, there would be no need for mercy. Mercy exists and is glorious because God does not approve of our sin; he sees how it harms us and others and extends a merciful call to return to him.
One of the chief errors of our time is the proclamation of God’s mercy without any reference to repentance. But repentance is the key that unlocks the floodgates of mercy. It is through repentance that we come to see our sin and the harm it has caused us and others. Through repentance we hear God’s call to return to him and we come humbly before the Lord, admit our wrong-doing and in this way receive the beautiful gift of his mercy.
I wonder too if any of us can ever really know how much we need God’s mercy? It is too easy to think that it’s that other person over there who really needs it more than I. But this bespeaks a spiritual blindness wherein we fail to realize just how awful our true condition is. Consider something that the Lord said to Sister Faustina and, as you read this recall that she was a consecrated religious living in a monastery! The Lord said to Sr. Faustina:
You see what you are of yourself, but do not be frightened at this. If I were to reveal to you the whole misery that you are, you would die of terror. … But because you are such a great misery I have revealed to you the whole ocean of my mercy(Diary II. 718).
Wow, just wow!What does this say of us who live far more immersed daily in a fallen, sin-soaked world. We deeply underestimate our true condition. Our biggest sin is likely our unawareness of our sin.
And perhaps there is a mercy in this for us as the Lord says when he declares to her: If I were to reveal to you the whole misery that you are, you would die of terror. But, hopefully this realization of our blindness can be the beginning of a deeper and deeper gratitude for the glorious, wonderful, and awesome gift of God’s mercy. If you don’t know the bad news, the good news is no news. The bad news is, we are in terrible, desperate shape. Though there is goodness in us, there are also very deep drives and wounds of sin; so deep and sometimes subtle that we barely know they are there. But thanks be to God for his rich beautiful and costly mercy.
Yes, the Lord’s mercy for us cost him dearly. And, as a conclusion to this brief essay I would like to quote from a work by Antonin Gilbert Sertillanges (1863-1948) entitled What Jesus Saw From the Cross.
Jesus is He who “beholds the Depths,” and the greatest depth of all is the depth of moral evil. He feels himself weighed down beneath the sin of all the ages…This hideous burden saps his strength…
Jesus is the physician who heals our ills with his own pain, but the greatest pain of all is his diagnosis [his vision] of man’s sin. He has a power of vision denied to us; our infirmities close our eyes to the spectacle that meets his gaze. Jesus sees wickedness and misery in this world which is hidden from our sight. If each one of us could see all the agony and all the atrocities that fill the earth, who could live? If we could each see our own self face to face, who would dare look on himself?
Finally, multiply this suffering by another, a heart stricken by his children’s refusal to love him. (pp. 90-91)
Do we see how precious and how costly is the Divine Mercy of Jesus? Yes and no. Our vision is too poor and we could never endure what we would have to see. But Jesus looked on it all and felt its full weight. I say to you what I say to myself, “Get on your knees poor sinner and realize the glorious gift of Divine Mercy. Remember the physical and mental anguish it caused our Lord. Realize that your need for it is far greater than you could ever imagine and be grateful and astonished at the beautiful and costly gift of God’s perfect and divine mercy.
