Living in the Light

This morning’s gospel includes the ubiquitous citation JN 3:16, seen in the stands of football games and other widely televised events. We know chapter and verse but sometimes not the text itself. It begins, “God so loved  the world that he gave his only son…” I often wish that the signs would include verse 17 which says, “God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world…” I use ellipses here for each of the verses to emphasize not only the gift but a part of God’s intention in giving the gift that is sometimes forgotten by those who use this passage as a proof text for exclusion rather than a reminder that salvation is open to all. Who is saved and who is not? Read on:

For everyone who does wicked things hates the light and does not come toward the light, so that his works might not be exposed. But whoever lives in truth comes to the light, so that his works may be clearly seen as done in God. (JN 3:20-21)

God is definitely bigger than our judgments; those who are schooled in living the truth are aware of that. The psalmist has a great line in Psalm 34 today that is good advice and encouragement for anyone trying to live a life of integrity. It says, “Look to God that you may be radiant with joy, and your faces may not blush with shame.” Eye to eye with God, we have the confidence of someone who knows us through and through and loves us totally no matter what. That’s a truth I can believe in – for myself and everyone else!

 

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A Woman Ahead of her Time

Today, close on the heels of the canonization of two popes, my Church celebrates the feast of Saint Catherine of Siena. Catherine died on April 29, 1380 and was made a saint in 1461, a rather extraordinary event for a woman like her in the fourteenth century. I say “a woman like her” because she was from a relatively small town in Italy, the 23rd of 25 children, who learned to read only in adulthood and only lived to be 33 years old. Her life was notable for two reasons, however. From an early age she had visions of Christ and consecrated her life to God when she was seven years old, never wavering in that decision. Preferring solitude as a lifestyle, she nevertheless became involved in Church politics and is remembered as the person who most influenced the return of the pope to Rome in 1377, ending what became known as “the Avignon Captivity”. Spending her last two years in Rome, she was counselor to and advocate for the pope, working tirelessly for church unity. This from a woman of 30 years of age in the 14th century! Quite a model for women today!

Her writings are replete with themes of joy, even in suffering, and of the love of Christ. She wrote over 400 letters (many dictated) to people as diverse as kings & queens, popes and ordinary village folk. Here is some advice from her for each of us today:

Start being brave about everything. Drive out darkness and spread light. Don’t look at your weaknesses. Realize instead that in Christ crucified you can do everything.

Alleluia!

It’s a foggy morning in the Southern Tier of New York. As I turned on my computer to begin writing this blog after reading the Scripture selections for today, I scanned the headlines that came up, as is my usual practice. I was unable to stop there, however, as the first story was about wild tornados in the south central parts of the country. The statistics and photos were grim: possible 136 mph winds – 16, or maybe 17 dead, a new middle school totally demolished along with many homes and businesses…

My original thought for this morning was consideration of the word “Alleluia” which appears as the psalm refrain for today and was an integral part of our monthly service in the style of Taize last night. I was thinking that, as in the Christmas season, even those who consider the octave of Easter (the week following), things have pretty much returned to “normal life” by today. Students go back to school, families on “Easter vacation” are back home, many of the church flowers are drooping and so removed…We forget that in the Christian calendar the Easter season extends to the feast of Pentecost – fifty days later.

So how is it that I can return to my original happy thought of Alleluia after the swift decline of my buoyant mood? True, I need to dig deeper. There is a refrain in the gospel for this morning, however, that comes to my aid. “Unless you are born again through water and the spirit…” Jesus says this to Nicodemus, a Pharisee who approached Jesus by night so as not to be noticed speaking to him, after having told him that he needs to be “born again.” Nicodemus, taking the word of Jesus on a literal, physical level, is troubling over how he can get back into his mother’s womb when Jesus begins to explain with the above quote. For Christians, baptism is the answer to the riddle. It is also the lifeline we grasp with all it implies of faith and hope and belonging to community that sustains us in times of trouble. Our baptism and immersion into the life of the Spirit of God remind us that Jesus didn’t just sail through this life as a rock star gathering fans and hailed by all in the end. Neither do we. In the past week, however, we have considered more than once the message to the disciples when Jesus appears to them after the Resurrection. His greeting is always one of peace. “Peace be with you,” he says to calm their fears, to assuage their grief. “Peace,” he says this morning to all those shocked people in our country today. I am always interested in the post-destruction interviews with people who have experienced great loss. Most times, I hear great gratitude that they are alive and a willingness to begin again. That is the Easter message after all.

Today my “Alleluia” is softened and will be the impetus to pray for my sisters and brothers around our country and the world who struggle with the word and with their faith. May my prayers, added to those of all who believe in a caring God who weeps with us in our sorrow, bring peace and hope in solidarity to those who mourn. Alleluia!

Seeing Is Believing

Today’s gospel (JN 20: 19-31) tells the story that has come to be known as “the doubting Thomas incident.” Thomas, not in the upper room when Jesus appeared the first time to the disciples after his Resurrection, would not believe that Jesus had truly been there. He wanted to experience Jesus himself – a reasonable request in light of the evidence of the past days. So Jesus came back for him a week later offering his hands and side – the places of his wounds – as evidence of his physicality although he had entered the room through locked doors.

Quite often I’ve been engaged in conversation about whether being alive when Jesus walked the earth would have been better than being a Christian today. There are pros and cons to each, the most evident of which is about the possibility of having experienced Jesus in the flesh. Would I have recognized him as the person that Christians have come to know and believe in over the past 2000 years if I had, in fact, seen him with my own eyes? Is the endurance of his message over millennia easier for me to believe as evidence that he is truly the Christ whom God sent to teach us how to live? It’s easy to yearn for the experience of walking with Jesus, sitting in his company and listening to him. But the trials encountered in those days make me wonder how strong my faith would have been.

The reading today from the first letter of Peter (CH 1:3-9) is full of hope for those of us living now. He speaks of a living hope as our inheritance and says: Although you have not seen him, you love him; even though you do not see him now yet believe in him, you rejoice with an indescribable and glorious joy, as you attain the goal of your faith, the salvation of your souls. 

How is it then that we can love without seeing? It must be that love calls us to the heart of things. Actually, when people say, “I see!” they are sometimes stating their understanding of a concept that they have just come to understand. And sometimes, as in the concluding moments of the movie, AVATAR, when someone says, “I see you” it means “Because I love you and accept your presence in my life as gift, I am brought to a knowing that speaks of my willingness to be with you as companion for all time.” Or, as Antoine de St. Exupery’s Little Prince says it: “It is only with the heart that one can see rightly. What is essential is invisible to the eye.”

Breakfast, Anyone?

This morning we have a gospel passage (JN 21:1-14) replete with symbols that hark back to earlier stories of Jesus. In the beginning of the chapter seven of the disciples are at the Sea of Tiberias when Peter announces, “I am going fishing.” It’s as if they have returned to their original profession from whence Jesus called them. They fish all night with no success until at dawn Jesus calls to them from the shore and asks if they’ve caught anything. Their negative reply causes him to suggest casting the nets to the other side of the boat. In doing so, they catch 153 large fish. The inference here is that of themselves they can do nothing. Having experienced the power of Christ in their lives, they can no longer do things in the traditional way. When they listen to him success follows, reminding us of the miracle of the loaves and the fishes.

When “the disciple that Jesus loved” recognized Jesus and exclaimed “It is the Lord!” Peter jumped into the water to get to him as quickly as he could, leaving the others to bring in the boat. The gospel writer is obviously calling attention to the earlier event where Peter’s enthusiasm caused him to jump into the lake in the middle of a storm to walk on the water to Jesus. In addition to his rescue from drowning by Jesus on that occasion, his great love mixed with deep regret for his betrayal during the events of the trial and crucifixion motivate him in this case to get to Jesus as fast as possible. Peter is a good model for us when we act too quickly and fail to live up to our potential, because it never stopped Jesus from loving him or treating him as a well-loved friend.

I often refer to my favorite part of this reading as “breakfast on the beach” which, for me, is a wonderful example of the servant love of Jesus for his friends. He just cooked the fish for them, took bread (as he had at the Last Supper) and passed around both. They sat around the fire and ate breakfast together, happy to be with him once again. It feels like an “intermezzo” in a tumultuous and very emotionally and physically active period of their lives. It reminds me of the Abraham Heschel quote that “just to be is a blessing…” Perhaps today is a good day to sit quietly, picture that scene, join the disciples and listen to what Christ has to say.

Peace!

The disciples that we met yesterday on their way home to Emmaus from Jerusalem turned back immediately upon realizing that Jesus had visited them. As they were recounting the story of their encounter to the other disciples, Jesus appeared to the group – in a less dense body, it seems, since they thought he was a ghost and were frightened. His first words to them were, “Peace be with you.” What struck me this morning about that was the fact that nothing had changed in the disciples’ lives except that Jesus was there. The bottom had fallen out of their world with his death. They were still afraid of authorities who knew of their association with Jesus. They were still traumatized by the events of the past week. They now had no future, it seemed, since their leader had been discredited so they were without a job. (They probably could have resumed life as fishermen…) Mostly they were just terrified and confused. So when Jesus appeared counseling peace, it’s understandable that they were incredulous. In an effort to normalize the situation, Jesus asked for something to eat – an activity that probably would not be part of a ghost’s routine. After eating, he once again set out to explain to them his mission and the reasons for the way it played out. Perhaps they grasped some of it more clearly than before, but it remained for them to wait for the Spirit of God, poured out on Pentecost, for them to have the courage needed to take up their own mission in service to what Jesus had started.

The peace that Jesus wished them then changed nothing of their outer circumstances. Nor, I would wager, was this peace an instant remedy for their distress of heart/soul. But it was a promise and a presence. I will reflect on this today, as I consider the concerns I hold in my heart – both small and large – for the world, for the accomplishment of my own work and for those people who populate my prayer intentions. I shall ask for patience and fearlessness because I know the presence of Christ and for the promise of deliverance from fear and distress for all those in need.

Peace be with you!

Burning Hearts

Yesterday I spoke of the voice in addition to sight as a mechanism for recognition. Today the gospel (LK 24:13-35) tells the wonderful story of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. Once again Jesus was unrecognizable in his resurrection body and this time he spent quite a long time teaching his two companions about what we call “salvation history” without them catching on to who he was. Many see this story as one of hospitality on the part of the disciples because when they reached their destination, they invited Jesus to stay with them since it was getting late and he seemed inclined to travel further. Their kindness was certainly rewarded when he “took bread, blessed it and gave it to them” – an action reminiscent of their last meal together before he suffered. That action was the impetus for recognition. Sadly, he vanished from their sight at that moment.

I think there are two calls for attention in this scene, both verified perhaps in our own experience. When I’m with my siblings, occasionally my brother will just move in a certain way or walk away from us and instantly our father is present in his manner or his gait. Although my friend, Dolores, passed from this life nearly ten years ago I can still see and feel her hands at certain moments, as they held such generosity and gentleness in their touch. These are examples of the more physical triggers for recognition. The second moment of the disciples’ experience was known only in retrospect. After Jesus disappeared from their presence, one asked the other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while he spoke to us on the way…?” If we learn to pay attention to the subtle energetic messages in our bodies – from our hearts – perhaps we will be more likely to catch the presence of God in the moment and invite God to stay with us more often. It can happen in moments of deep conversation with others as well as in times of silence and prayer. And, if we practice that kind of awareness, maybe – just maybe – we won’t miss the moment and God will settle in with us and stay the night.

What’s in a Name?

Once again this morning, Mary Magdalene is the major player in the gospel story of the resurrection of Jesus (JN 20:11-18). Finding the tomb empty, she first encounters two angels who ask her why she’s weeping. She answers that someone has taken Jesus away and she doesn’t know where he is. Then she notices someone else sitting there, whom she takes to be the gardener, who asks her the same question but adds, “Whom are you looking for?” She is so distraught she doesn’t answer the question but rather begs him, if he has moved the body somewhere, to tell her where so she might take him herself. The puzzling part is that she doesn’t realize that this man is actually Jesus. One wonders (as theologians and others have done for the past 2,000 years) how his resurrection body can be so different from the body he died with, such that she wouldn’t recognize the person she loved so much. Theories are plentiful – from Mary’s lack of expectation of seeing him alive and her state of mind at the moment to scientific/esoteric answers to the question – but that is not my subject here. What always calls to me is the answer that Jesus gives to Mary’s inquiry. He simply says, “Mary.” She recognizes him immediately at the sound of her name.

Have you ever noticed the difference of effect on you when your name is spoken if the speaking is done by someone you love and who loves you? Are there nicknames you have been accustomed to that sound funny out of the mouths of people outside the circle of your loved ones? Are you able to tell, just by a hello, when a person you love answers the phone whether s/he is happy, sad, calm or upset? There’s more to recognition, it seems, than meets the eye.

Today is a good day to consider how love changes us, what love teaches us about ways of knowing that have little to do with externals. And then we might make an effort to sharpen our senses to assure that we will be alert to the moments when God calls our name.

“I Have Seen the Lord!”

This morning’s gospel is the first of many accounts of post-resurrection experiences of Christ. (MT 28:8-15). When Mary Magdalene and her companion (“the other Mary”) found the empty tomb and were told by the angel guarding the tomb that Jesus had been raised from the dead, they left quickly, “fearful yet overjoyed” on their way to tell the disciples. I was interested in their state of heart as they ran. It is perhaps akin to anyone who has had a spiritually transforming experience. The joy and exhilaration that impels one to share such an experience with others might be tempered with the fear of being labeled delusional or “holier than thou” or who feels personally unable to measure up to the responsibility of what one is called to by the experience. Mary Magdalene, whose image has finally been rehabilitated by the Church, is now known as the “apostle to the apostles” precisely because of this passage where she has been chosen to announce the “good news” to the others, as well as because of her close relationship with Jesus. Consequently, however, she suffered the jealousy of those who did not believe Jesus would have chosen a woman for such a key role in the band of his followers. The very good news in the subsequent lines of today’s text is that they met Jesus on their way. He said to them, “Do not be afraid. Go tell my brothers to go to Galilee, and there they will see me.” Having the courage of that exchange with Jesus must have sustained Mary in the role she assumed in the days that followed.

Throughout the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures, the imperatives to Fear not! and Do not be afraid! appear over and over as God speaks to people and communities. As human beings, fear is an automatic reaction written into our bodies, but as we grow in the consciousness of God’s all-embracing love and begin to trust that we will never be abandoned, the power that fear holds in our lives can be overcome. It is simplistic to think we will never face distress or danger but learning to choose trust over fear is possible. It reminds me of the dictum: “The way out is the way through.” Facing our fears with Christ as a companion who has accomplished that, even in the loss of his life, can lead to small and large resurrections of our own. Mary Magdalene had lost a great deal when Jesus died. As she faced the fear of a life without him, she came to know a deeper and more pervasive joy that called her to a new relationship of love. And so it can be with us as we ponder the Easter mysteries during the next 50 days.

Easter Blessings!

On this feast of Resurrection, when new life is bursting in creation and we celebrate Christ risen from the grave, there are so many messages in the Scriptures, in sermons and in our communications with loved ones that give us hope and challenge. I came out of sleep this morning singing a song by my friend, Jan Phillips. The refrain says, “What you have seen me do, you too can do and more. So said the Holy One, who lives forevermore.” I’ve been singing it most of the day and so I pass it on as something Jesus passed to us. He has done his mission; the continuation is up to us.

Easter blessings to all!