A Love like God’s

What Paul the Apostle praises in our 1st reading today at Mass and Jesus urges in the gospel is a love that reaches out beyond our friends and those close by. Paul sees this love in the collection taken up by the Macedonians for the poor in Jerusalem. It’s a graced love, Paul says, expanding your care and your vision. Your love is like God’s.(2 Corinthians 8,1-9)

Jesus urges the same kind of love in the gospel. God’s love is like the sun that shines on everyone, life the rain that falls on the just and the unjust. It’s not an easy love, but if you wish to be perfect “Be perfect just as your heavenly Father is perfect. (Matthew 5,43-48)

Today CNN carried a story of that kind of love. Paula Cooper was released from the Rockville Correctional Facility in Indiana yesterday, a free woman. In 1985 as a young girl of 15 she decided to steal some money from a 76 year old bible teacher, Ruth Pelke. After smoking marijuana and drinking wine, she went to her home, hit Pelke with a vase and stabbed her in the stomach thirty times–for $10.

Leading the pleas for Cooper’s release, was Pelke’s grandson, Bill Pelke, who said he forgave her shortly after Cooper was sentenced to death.

Here’s the CNN story:

“’I became convinced beyond a shadow of a doubt that my grandmother would have had love and compassion for Paula Cooper and her family,’ Pelke told CNN. ‘I felt she wanted someone in my family to have that same sort of love and compassion. I didn’t have any but was so convinced that’s what she would have wanted, I begged God to give me love and compassion for Paula Cooper and her family and do that on behalf of my grandmother.’”

“He said it was ‘a short prayer,’ but it was answered.
“’For a year and a half, whenever I thought about my grandmother, I always pictured how she died. It was terrible,’ he said. ‘But when my heart was touched with compassion, forgiveness took place. I knew from that moment on when I think about her, I would no longer pictured how she died, but I would picture how she lived, and what she stood for, what she believed in — the beautiful, wonderful person she was.’”

“Pelke tried to visit Cooper in 1986, but the two didn’t come face to face until eight years later. The two struck up an unlikely friendship over the years, exchanging messages through the prison e-mail system every week. And in 1989, the Indiana Supreme Court reduced Cooper’s death sentence to 60 years in prison.”

“Pelke said he would like to help Cooper with her transition to life outside of prison.
‘I hope that we’re able to go out and have a meal. I’ve told her when she got out of prison I’d like to buy her a computer and I have a friend that would like to buy her some clothes. Hopefully we’ll get together within the next few days and go shopping,’ he said.”

“Pelke said he’s never asked Cooper to explain her actions – ‘There’s not a good answer for that’ — but said she has shown remorse for the killing.
‘She would take it back in a heartbeat if she could, but she knows she has to live with it for the rest of her life,’ he said. ‘She knows she took something valuable out of society. She wants to try to give back. She wants to help work with other young people to avoid the pitfals she fell into.’”

There’s an example of perfect love, from yesterday.

The Sinful Woman

We’ve been reading from the Gospel of Luke most Sundays at Mass this year and for the last few weeks Luke speaks about women in the ministry of Jesus and of his church. Last Sunday there was the story of the widow of Naim, who was bringing her dead son to be buried. Jesus stopped the funeral cortege raised the boy to life and gave him back to his mother.(Luke7.11-17) This week there’s the story of the sinful woman of the town in a Pharisee’s house. Weeping, she pours an ointment over Jesus’ feet along with her tears. Then she dries them with her hair.(Luke 7,36-8,3)

Recall too the story from last Sunday’s Old Testament readings about a widow whose only son had died. Elijah raised her boy to life. (1 Kings 17,17-24)

Are these stories related? I think they may be. In Jesus’ day women who were widowed were especially vulnerable. Losing their husbands, they lost their support. If they lost their sons their plight was worse. In a society where men were the sole providers, women had nothing without them. It could happen in such a situation that women sold themselves, which leads us to the story for today. Was the woman in the gospel one of those women?

It’s a situation that exists even in our time. “Doesn’t he know what kind of woman she is?” Jesus’ host asks. Yes, he does. He understands her circumstances quite well. Luke’s gospel especially takes up their cause.

You notice how the gospel ends today with Luke’s summary of Jesus’ journey to Jerusalem.

Accompanying him were the Twelve
and some women who had been cured of evil spirits and infirmities,
Mary, called Magdalene, from whom seven demons had gone out,
Joanna, the wife of Herod’s steward Chuza,
Susanna, and many others who provided for them
out of their resources. (Luke 8,1-3)

Luke carefully notes that women followed Jesus. He had empowered them; then they empowered him and his gospel. That’s the way love and forgiveness works. Luke reminds the men of his church that women had an important place in the life and ministry of Jesus. For him women’s issues were not just women’s issues, they were men’s issues as well.

Today is Fathers’ Day. As we honor fathers, let’s remember that the scriptures expand the definition of father beyond biological terms. God is “Our Father in heaven”, “Father of the poor”, “Father of the widow”, “Father of orphans.” He the God of the vulnerable. Luke embraces this expanded understanding of mother and father in his gospel. Let’s make it our own too.

Corpus Christi

“I Love a Mystery” was a radio program I listened to as a young boy, long ago. It started, as all mysteries do, with something concealed. Someone, something was lost, someone was killed or was being hunted down and for the next half hour you would follow the various clues until the mystery was solved.

The Mass is a mystery too. A “mystery of faith,” we say, and it hides the treasures of our faith.

One of the earliest terms describing the Mass is “the Lord’s Supper,” referring of course to the supper that Jesus shared with his disciples the night before he died.  He spoke to them that night of his love and then gave himself to them under the signs of bread and wine. Then he said “Do this in memory of me.”

In every Catholic church we try to keep his command. Whether it’s St. Peter’s Basilica or a parish church or a small chapel off a busy city street, there’s an altar, a table, at the center of the place and the Lord’s Supper is celebrated here in memory of him.

Readings from the Old and New Testaments will be read here, because Jesus spoke from the scriptures to his disciples. Then the priest who represents Jesus takes bread and wine, gives thanks to God for the gifts of creation and life itself, then repeats the words of Jesus, “This is my body” “This is my Blood.” Then we all receive these gifts.

We gather around Jesus as his disciples did, not perfect disciples to be sure, but we’re among those “whom he loved till the end.” And he feeds us with his wisdom and life.

Our celebration of the Mass can be flawed by cold routine or lifeless participation. We who take part in the Mass–priest and people – may not bring the lively faith or spirit of thanksgiving that’s  “right and just” for this great act of worship. But still,  as a church we celebrate the Lord’s Supper. We have been celebrating it from the time of Jesus till now, and we will continue till its signs are replaced by the reality of the Kingdom they signify.

Ordinary time is when the Holy Spirit acts. It’s also the time when we know Jesus Christ through the signs he has left us, particularly through the Holy Eucharist.

The End is Only a Beginning

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In the Farewell Discourse from John’s gospel which we’re reading from these days, the disciples seem stunned by the news of Jesus’ death and resurrection. They don’t know what to do and hardly know what to say. All they seem to hear is Jesus announcing his death. He is leaving and they seem frozen by the thought.

“I have a lot to say to you, but you cannot bear it now,” Jesus says to them. The Lord recognizes the paralysis that’s come upon them.

In our readings from the Acts of the Apostles, the disciples led by Paul, seem quite different. They don’t have a clear picture or plan before them; they’re entering a brand new world, but they’re brave and bold about it. Even though the scriptures say the Spirit is directing them, they’re also deciding themselves what they’re going to do, and they don’t seem overly constrained by caution or doubt.

The list of places they go to may not make much of an impression on us, but if we listen carefully it’s an impressive list. Psidian Antioch, Philippi, Athens, Corinth. Three of those places were important Roman colonies, strategic cities on the Roman grid, steps on the road to Rome itself. Athens, of course, was a key intellectual center of the empire, though maybe a little down-trodden when Paul got there.

You can see in his choice of places to go that Paul knows where he’s going. He’s using his talents and all his abilities. He taking advantage of every opportunity he can.

And so he meets Lydia by the river, the trader in purple dyes, and she and her house were baptized. Was her house, like the house of the Cornelius, among the first of the gentile house churches? You wonder where did she bring the gospel? Priscilla and Acquila, the two Jews that Claudius expelled from Rome during the Jewish riots of AD 42, what part did they play in bringing the gospel with Paul to the heart of the empire? Paul knew that people were important in the spread of the gospel and he included them in his mission.

The Acts of the Apostles may seem like a well-staged campaign, but it is filled with one surprise after another. So in today’s reading, an earthquake brings a jailor and his family to the gospel and sends Paul off to Athens. Even prisons and beatings and clamoring mobs serve the spread of the gospel. (Acts 16,22-34)

Maybe it’s good that we read these two scriptures together. The Acts of the Apostles tell us of a church that is on its way to the ends of the earth, and so it is. We have to use our own minds and talents and utilize every opportunity to help it achieve its mission.

The Farewell Discourse tells us that sometimes we can’t see beyond death and so become paralyzed in our thinking and acting. But it also tells us that what we think is an end may only be a beginning.

Saints Philip and James

On a feast of an apostle you expect to hear one or more of his heroic acts or wise sayings, but in today’s reading from St. John’s gospel for the feast of Saints Philip and James we have instead an apostle’s clumsy question. During his Farewell Discourse, Jesus says, “I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, then you will also know my Father.”

“Master, show us the Father, and that will be enough for us.” Philip says to Jesus, which brings this exasperated response from the Lord:

“Have I been with you for so long a time and you still do not know me, Philip? Whoever has seen me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I speak to you I do not speak on my own.”

On the night before he died, most of Jesus’ apostles appear in a bad light. They’re slow, uncertain, fearful–even ready to betray him. Philip isn’t the only one who can’t fathom the message or person of Jesus.

Called by Jesus, the apostles remain humanly limited. In one way, though, their humanness and slowness makes us realize where the power of our church comes from. “Not to us, O Lord, not to us be the glory!” The church’s one foundation is Jesus Christ.

My Peace I Leave You

The gospel readings for the remainder of the Easter season are from the Farewell Discourse of Jesus from John’s gospel. (Chapters 13-17) At Passover, Jesus’ hour arrives when “he had to pass from this world to his Father.” (John 13,1) The mystery of his death and resurrection is here.

At his announcement, uncertainty and questions disturb his disciples. They’ve known and loved him intimately; now he tells them he’s leaving, for awhile, and they will no longer see him, for awhile. They seem to hear only the word “death.” During the farewell discourse, the disciples, like Mary Magdalene in the garden, try to cling to him. “Do not cling to me. I have not ascended to my father and your father, to my God and your God.”

They’ll be living in the “in-between-time.” They wont see him again as they’ve known him physically; nor will they see him in glory, unless it’s the glory reflected from his cross. Jesus promises not to leave them orphans, but he won’t be with them as he was with them before in the flesh. He will be with them as God is with them.

The “in-between-time” is the time of the Paraclete, the Spirit of truth, who will teach them all things. Jesus too will be present, but in sacramental signs and words and deeds they remember.

The “in-between-time” is our time too. Like the disciples, we want to see, to touch, to know more, to have what’s promised us fulfilled. But this is the “in-between-time.”

In today’s gospel, Jesus promises his disciples the gift of peace. He calls it his peace, a particular kind of peace, a believer’s peace, peace for the “in-between-time” when we don’t see yet and the mystery of the cross only hints at glory.

Jesus’ words appear in the prayer we hear before Communion at Mass. “Lord Jesus Christ, you said to your apostles, ‘Peace I leave you, my peace I give you.’ Look not on our sins, but on the faith of your church, and grant her peace and unity in accordance with your will. “

We sin against this peace by cynicism, lack of patience, weak faith– sins of the “in-between-time.” We wish this peace to each other; we pray that God grant us this peace as we receive the Eucharist.

A Shepherd for Dangerous Times

The image of the shepherd is a favorite image for God in scripture. Jesus uses it to describe himself. He is not like the hireling, who runs at the first sign of danger; he guides his own on their journey through dangerous times and places. We know from his life and death on the cross that he doesn’t mind facing danger at all.

His shepherding takes many forms. Jesus shepherds us on the personal journey we make in life. “The Lord is my shepherd,” we can say at every moment, good or bad. He also shepherds his church, our first reading reminds us, and he will always guide it, even in periods of uncertainty.

But does it end there? What about our world, which is also on a journey? If we believe Jesus Christ is its Savior and Lord, will he not be its shepherd too?

Eastertime is a good time to think about the unknown. As we look ahead, our world faces many dangers. It’s clear the environment of our planet is endangered. What shall we do? As the nations of the earth are drawn closer through new systems of communications and economic development, violence and terror are so evident. Can we live in peace?

It’s tempting to close our eyes and do nothing. But God always tells us to face life and go on. Alone, we may see a dark valley ahead, but a Shepherd leads us, so let’s not fear.

The Bread of Life

The four gospels say that Jesus fed a crowd of people near the Sea of Galilee by multiplying a few loaves of bread and some fish. It’s one of his most important miracles, a reminder of the Exodus from Egypt when God fed his people with manna in the desert and kept them alive. “I am the living bread,” Jesus said. More than the other gospels, John dwells on this miracle and he sees it, not just as a sign of Jesus’ power, but as a test of faith.

The first tested are Jesus’ own disciples. “How are we to buy bread so that these people can eat?” Jesus asks Philip as crowds arrive at a mountain on the other side of the sea. We haven’t enough money, Philip answers, a typical reason to do nothing. The crowds want to make Jesus their king after eating a plentiful meal; a continual supply of food is on their mind more than “the true bread come down from heaven.”

The Sacrament of the Eucharist is always a testing ground for faith. “Because of it many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him.” (John 6,66) Besides this radical step, others seem to have little appreciation for this great sign, John’s gospel indicates. What does our relationship reveal about our faith in Jesus Christ?

More than a test of faith, the Eucharist is also a powerful source of grace enabling us to recognize the Risen Christ and believe in him.

We enter a school of faith in the Easter season. The Risen Christ speaks to us in signs like water, bread and wine, words that promise a world beyond ours. May we find ourselves echoing the apostle Peter. “Where shall we go, you have the words of eternal life.”

The Easter Season: a School of Faith

Most Catholic parishes during the Easter season focus on First Communions, which will be taking place in the next few weeks. Lots of visitors– grand fathers, grand mothers, other family members– will be gathering. It can be a logistical nightmare. Some parishes also may be focusing on their newly initiated RCIA candidates, getting them used to the sacramental life in the church.

But the readings for the seven weeks of the Easter season, particularly the gospel readings, seem to have another focus. They’re for veteran believers who have been around awhile, like you and me. They warn us not to think we’ve made it, not to take our faith for granted. We need to renew our faith in the Risen Christ.

Thomas the Apostle, doubting Thomas, is probably the leading figure in the gospels for the Easter season. He’s not a lonely skeptic, an isolated dissenter, he represents the slowness of heart and mind, the recurrent skepticism that affects us all.
We heard from Thomas on Sunday. For the next few days of this week, he’s joined by Nicodemus, a teacher in Israel, fluent in religious matters, who comes to Jesus by night. He asks Jesus questions but he doesn’t seem to understand his answers. “How can this happen?”

Nicodemus reminds us that faith doesn’t depend on how sharp your mind is or how many books you read. Faith is God’s gift to us.

On Friday we’ll start to read from John’s gospel about Jesus multiplying the loaves and fish near the Sea of Galilee. There’s a lot of unbelief in the crowd that Jesus feeds, according to John. “Many of his disciples drew back and no longer went about with him,” John says. Besides those who radically reject Jesus as the bread come down from heaven, there are others who have little appreciation for this great sign. Commentators suspect there were troubles over the Eucharist and over Jesus in the churches John is writing for.

Most of the gospel readings for the last weeks of the Easter season are taken from the Farewell Discourse in John’s gospel. There also the disciples are far from perfect. They’re overcome by fear, they seem to understand Jesus so little. He calls them “little children.” They’re not too far removed from the children making their Communion this season.

We don’t have a procession of perfect believers in the gospels of our Easter season. They’re imperfect believers, like us. But that’s a blessing, because they remind us that faith is something we have to pray for and struggle for. More importantly, they reveal the goodness of Jesus, who gave the wounds in his hands and his side to Thomas, who never dismissed Nicodemus to the night, who came to table to his disciples and fed them again, who called them “his own” and prayed that they would not fail.

We enter a school of faith in the Easter season where the Risen Christ speaks to us in signs like water, bread and wine, words that promise a world beyond ours. He is our Teacher and Lord.

The Solemnity of the Incarnation of Jesus Christ

The church tries to present the mysteries of faith as concretely as possible, because we find the mysteries of God hard to understand and need all the help we can get. So,  the church celebrates the mysteries of Jesus throughout the year at times that may help us understand them.

Today is the Solemnity of the Incarnation of the Lord, when we celebrate the beginning of Jesus’ life in the womb of Mary. The Angel Gabriel came to Nazareth and invited Mary to become the mother of Jesus, who would “save his people from their sins.”

“Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me according to your word,” Mary answered.

Usually it’s celebrated on March 25th,  9 months from Christmas, December 25th, the traditional date of Jesus’ birth. Some old church calendars saw this day also as the day on which Jesus was crucified. Because it fell in Easter week, we postpone the celebration to this week.

On this side of the world it’s spring and the natural world is coming to life. Its deepest life comes about through the presence, the birth, the life of Jesus Christ.  Hidden in the womb or dying on the cross, Jesus brings life and spring is earth’s reminder of new life in God.

“May we become more like Jesus Christ, whom we acknowledge as our redeemer,” we say in our prayer for this feast. He is hidden in us as he was in Mary; he grows and matures in us, as he did in her.

We can’t celebrate this feast without thinking of that great woman of faith who believed in the angel’s message. “And the angel left her,” the story of the Annunciation concludes. The angel spoke, then was gone. Even when there was no angel to speak to and few further signs, Mary continued to believe.

Her faith was great;  like her we keep in mind the angel’s words as if spoken to us:

Hail Mary, full of grace,

the Lord is with you.