Recognition

We easily recognize Jesus in pictures and paintings and statues.

Even though he's presented to us in thousands of variations.

From DaVinci to Picasso.

No doubt we're helped by the settings and by the context in the artwork.

We know that's him on every crucifix, and at every Last Supper.

Thanks to the Gospels and the artwork they inspired,

And to our own imaginations,

We each have our mental image of what Jesus looked like when he walked the earth.

We also have our own images of what Jesus will look like when he comes again.

When he returns to earth in glory.

The Gospels and the painters and the movie makers have helped us there too.

He's coming again.

And when he does, we need to recognize him.

Whether it's at the end of all time, or just the end of our time.

In our Gospel today, Jesus explains why he went away.

He says it was best for us that he go.

Because when he went, he sent the Spirit to be with us forever, until the end of time.

It's that assurance that lets us view his departure as a joyful event.

We can truly celebrate his departure next Sunday—the Feast of the Ascension.

Because we know that we also have the Feast of Pentecost—the arrival of the Spirit.

When Jesus was here, he was just one person.

He had taken on the limitations of human existence.

Even in his glorified body after his resurrection, he observed most limits of space and time.

The Holy Spirit, the Spirit of Christ, has no such limits.

He can be everywhere at once, forever.

For the past few weeks our Gospel readings have focused on Jesus' close relationships.

With the Father and the Spirit and with us.

I am in the Father and the Father is in me.

If you have seen me you have seen the Father.

We will come to dwell within you.

I am in you and you are in me.

In our minds it's easy to see Jesus walking through Israel 2000 years ago.

It's not hard to see him coming again.

And if we stop, look and listen,

We'll see him right here, right now, with us today.

Within ourselves.

And within the thousands upon thousands of variations of ourselves.

Tuesday, 6th Week of  Easter

Jn 16:5-11          Read this Scripture @usccb.org

You Don't Say

It's amazingly easy to tune out or gloss over the details as we read or listen to the Scriptures.

I've been through this passage from Acts dozens of times.

But only this last time did something register with me about Paul.

He was one tough character.

He comes with Barnabas to the Gentiles in the city of Lystra.

He's fabulously successful, he has to convince the people not to worship him as a God.

Then, some other Jews come to town and turn the people against Paul.

The text quite succinctly summarizes an incident.

They stoned Paul and dragged him out of the city, supposing that he was dead.

But when the disciples gathered around him, he got up and entered the city.

The next day he left with Barnabas for Derbe.

I'm not sure why I've never fully appreciated Paul's extraordinary performance before.

Maybe as Luke wrote Acts, those brief lines were an intentional understatement.

Or maybe it was careless comprehension on my part.

Now I see. 
Paul was sufficiently battered that those smashing him with hefty stones thought he was dead.

Then they dragged his body from the city.

A good dragging can be just as effectively fatal as a good stoning.

And yet, a little later, he was able to get up again—I guess when he regained consciousness.

And he was brave or crazy enough to go back into the city.

And then the next day he set out on a 60-mile trek to carry the Gospel to Derbe.

How have I failed to be impressed with all that?

Rather than blame myself, I'm going to go with Luke's understatement.

It isn't the classic understatement that makes a conscious effort to minimize a point.

Either to soften a blow, or to draw added attention by the obvious understatement.

It's merely a statement of some relevant facts that aren't viewed as the main point.

Luke's main point was that the Gospel was spreading widely among the Gentiles.

Paul would agree; it's just a side-note that he was taking a real beating in the process.

Jesus himself uses a bit of understatement in today's Gospel.

I will no longer speak much with you ...

Well yeah—in a few hours he's going to be arrested, beaten, scourged and crucified.

He's using understatement to soften the blow of the news as he says farewell.

How were Jesus and Paul so easily able to understate their works?

They had that special Peace, that Peace of Christ.

That Peace that comes from knowing what really matters in this life.

That conviction that we're doing God's work.

That He's with us,

That He'll take care of us.

In response to today's reading we might want to ask ourselves,

What works am I doing that are worthy of understatement?

Tuesday, 5th Week of  Easter

Jn 14:27-31          Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Child

Child.

That's our first title, one we're given even before we're born.

Our mothers are with child.

Then we go on to collect dozens, maybe hundreds, of roles and titles.

Family titles like:

Son, Daughter, Sister, Brother, Mother, Father, Aunt and Uncle.

Broader social titles like: 

Friend, Teacher, Leader, Doctor, Student, Member and Consumer.

The list goes on and on.

Our reading from Acts today recounts the creation of a new role in the Church.

It required the selection of men filled with wisdom and Spirit.

And what title did they give these wise, holy men?

Deacon!

Usually-humble deacon.

Whatever our titles, common or grand, we are specially-blessed people.

All of us here.

As Peter says, We are a chosen race,

A royal priesthood,

A holy nation,

God's own people.

(In that sense, the Church has many millions of women priests.)

Every one of us who is baptized is a member of the general priesthood.

Baptism confers that title on us.

We've all had the words pronounced over us:

As Christ was anointed priest, prophet and king,

So may you live always as a member of his body, sharing everlasting life.

That's three more titles for each of us.

And three more sets of responsibilities.

At this very moment, we're all fulfilling our specific duty as members of that priesthood.

We're actively participating in the celebration of the Mass.

We're praying and giving honor to God.

Along with our many titles come many opportunities for reward.

And today's Gospel speaks of the greatest of those rewards.

It's a sad occasion, but Jesus packs it full of Good News.

He's about to enter into his passion and death.

He's bidding farewell to his apostles.

He's trying to comfort and assure them.

And he directs his words not only to the apostles, but to us as well.

Do not let your hearts be troubled.

I am going to the Father.

In my Father's house there are many dwelling places.

I am going to prepare a place for you.

I will come back again and take you to myself.

The rest of his message is also for us.

For his chosen, holy people.

Whoever believes in me will do the works that I do.

Those words are a directive

They set out our mission—to imitate Jesus—to do what he did.

The good deeds and even the miracles.

They're also an assurance.

The power to do what he did will be within our reach.

As we're called to the many roles and titles of our lives,

He's available to guide us on our mission.

And hopefully we'll call on him.

And we'll do our best to meet our responsibilities in each of our many roles.

To fulfill each title, great or small.

And to do it in such a way that we are indeed doing the works that Jesus did.

Doing them oit of love of God and neighbor.
Hopefully we'll strive to be worthy of that heavenly reward.

That striving should be the chief focus of our lives.
But in the end, our striving will never be enough to earn that reward.

It's just not something we can earn an entitlement to.

As important as our own efforts are, they can't provide any assurance of heaven.
Our greatest assurance comes from somewhere else.
It comes from that extravagant gift we repeatedly noted in today's Psalm.

Lord let your mercy be on us, as we place our trust in you.

And the chief title that draws that mercy to us is the simplest one.

The one we all started with.

Every one of us here, and everyone else.

Child.

Child of God.

 5th Sunday of  Easter

Jn 14:1-12          Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Too-Good News

You'll sometimes hear people say:

I believe Jesus was a good man, a holy man, a good teacher.

But I don't believe that he was God.

You might hear that from Muslims, or some Jews, Buddhists, and Hindus.

Even some agnostics and non-religious people.

Even those who call themselves Christians, might admit to some degree of doubt.

For some people, it's just a ludicrous idea that they would never seriously entertain.

A crazy belief that those unquestioning Christians hold to.

For others, it's something they'd like to believe, but they just can't.

Maybe because it seems too good to be true.

They reason that, surely an all-powerful God wouldn't stoop to being one of us?

He created a whole universe with billions upon billions of stars and planets.

And everything upon them and within them.

Certainly he wouldn't be all that interested in humans.

And yet, Jesus was born as one of us.

And, as we hear today, He himself assures us that he is indeed God.

He tells us that he has the power to give eternal life.

He tells us that he and the Father are one.

Elsewhere in the Scripture he's told us that all things were made through [him].

That he came down from Heaven.

That, Before Abraham was, I am.

It is, of course, a mystery how Jesus could be true God and true man.

So we shouldn't be surprised that some people believe it and some don't.

Again, we have Jesus' own words telling us that.

He said, only those called to believe by the Father, will believe.

In today's reading from The Acts of the Apostles we hear that the word is spreading.

The disciples are going out beyond the Jewish community, to the Greeks, the Gentiles.

People they hadn't dared to approach before.

And many are accepting the word and believing.

Believing not just that Jesus is God, but believing all the Too-Good News he delivered.

That God is not only interested in humans—He's interested in each individual human.

That God is our loving Father who wants us to have eternal life with Him.

Only those called to believe by the Father, will believe.

But He's constantly calling.

Just as he called through Barnabas and Paul and all the early disciples.

Relying on them to make the initial contact, to plant the seed.

And then, He himself nurturing that seed, calling and recalling that person to full belief.

Let us pray that God keeps calling to everyone.

That He helps us do our part in making those initial contacts.

And that He give us the courage to reach out to those we haven't yet dared to approach.

Tuesday, 4th Week of  Easter

Jn 10:22-30          Read this Scripture @usccb.org

Rock or Stone

This first half of the Mass is called the Liturgy of the Word.

It includes three or four different main selections from Sacred Scripture.

We have a first reading, usually from the Old Testament.

But sometimes, as today, from a non-Gospel book of the New Testament.

Then we have a selection from the Psalms, including a repeated Response.

On Sundays and special feasts we have a second reading, taken from a New Testament book.

And finally, we have the Gospel.

The different Scripture selections for a Mass sometimes bear little relationship to each other.

They can be daily excerpts for a chronological reading through two separate books.

As in the past few days, where the first reading is progressing through The Acts of the Apostles,

And the Gospel is progressing through verses from John.

But often, as on special feasts, all the main readings complement each other.

The reading selections are determined from time-to-time by committees of liturgists.

The last major revision was made fifty years ago with Vatican II.

They put together the different selections for each Mass and establish the Ordo—

the Order of Prayer in the Celebration of the Eucharist.

Many of the Protestant churches follow the same order for their Scripture readings.

Today, there's no strikingly obvious link between the first reading and the Gospel.

But there are strong links between our first reading and the Psalm.

Stephen harshly criticizes the people and the elders for their refusal to accept Jesus.

And he reports his vision of Jesus standing at the right hand of God.

In return, they quickly make him the first martyr--by stoning him to death.

It almost seems like the committee was having a little fun with today's readings.

They chose a Psalm that says:

Be my rock of refuge.

You are my rock and my fortress.

Stephen's being stoned, and the committee gives us a Psalm about the Lord being a rock!

But the committee made a good choice; that Psalm really is fitting.

The Lord was indeed Stephen's fortress and refuge.

He couldn't have summoned the courage to speak out without that faith and confidence.

Then Stephen says: Lord Jesus, receive my spirit.

As the Psalm says: Into your hands I commend my spirit.

The Psalm also says: You will lead and guide me.

My trust is in the Lord.

I will rejoice and be glad in your mercy.

All words aptly applied to St Stephen in today's reading.

You can almost hear Stephen saying them.

You can see his commitment to those ideals.

And when you think about it, eventually those words could be just as aptly applied to Saul.

And to us.

Tuesday, 3rd Week of  Easter

Jn 6:30-35           Read this Scripture @usccb.org