Second Sunday of Easter/Divine Mercy Sunday

Dominica II Paschae A
19 April 2020
Divine Mercy Sunday

At times in preaching some images that might communicate a point can be more evocative, if not provocative.  When a preacher employs such images he might try to prepare his congregation for the unexpected so that they don’t fall out of their seats.  Today I have just such an image.  And so, oddly enough in this setting, I can tell you to fasten your seatbelts… and what’s more… you can literally do so!

The evocative or provocative image, however, is not mine but comes from the Scriptures.  St. Peter employed the image.  It is in his letter in the Bible.  And it formed the entrance antiphon of this Holy Mass.  The image is that of an infant nursing and longing for the mother’s milk.  It’s an image that paints a vivid picture for Christian life and the nourishment we need to grow toward our mature goal: salvation in heaven!

Interactions with parishioners at times provide very powerful things for my meditation.  Maybe it is good for you to hear and to know that… that your lives bear the marks of God and the touch of the divine and things spiritual.  Normally we need someone else to point that out to us, no?  You have been in large, multi-generational family gatherings and you know how you enter and exit various conversations all going on at once around a table or in the living room.  So it was at one such gathering of parishioners that I turned from my spot at the table because a mother with a young infant said something behind me.  We began speaking and I noticed that her infant son was… well, there is no other way to say this… he was grabbing quite aggressively and intently at her blouse and even down it!  He wanted to nurse and he knew how to communicate the desire.

That image came to my mind in my reflections for today’s Mass as I read the entrance antiphon, a verse from the First Letter of St. Peter: “Like newborn infants, you must long for the pure, spiritual milk, that in him you may grow to salvation.”  God’s Word makes use of the image of an infant longing to nurse to tell us something about what we need in order to be transformed from infant Christians to fully mature saints in heaven.

The infant who longs to nurse is hungry and wants food.  He knows where the source of that food is.  Though an infant can’t explain it, he needs that food in order to grow and to mature and to become what he is supposed to become… a fully mature adult.  There is a longing within the child and it is placed there for an important purpose.  When that longing for the nourishment of milk is fulfilled, it helps him arrive by the process of growth to where he should be.  Upon our birth into the family of Christ and his Church we begin as infants.  But we are not supposed to remain there.  We are supposed to grow and to mature.  The goal of our growth, unlike natural life, is not simply the number or the maturity of years, but rather that of full Christian maturity and the life of heaven.  Thus, the entrance antiphon could say that we must long for spiritual milk so that we may grow to salvation.  It is a good and a holy desire to long for our souls to be fed.  The spiritual milk we need comes to us in various ways by God’s grace.  Do we bother to notice the longing of our souls?  Do we know the source of our nourishment?  Do we seek it, quite intently and vigorously, like that infant I saw at the family gathering?  Will we go after the saving teachings of our faith and seek the practices that give life to our soul?  While we are more separated from one another than normal perhaps we can ask the Lord to use this time frame to teach us to long for our spiritual nourishment and to not take it for granted when our distancing ends, even as we know that his grace still comes to us now.

But there is something still more in the lesson to be like newborn infants longing for pure, spiritual milk.  The point of the image, brothers and sisters, is not merely that we seek to fulfill our soul’s longing by aggressively grabbing at the things of God.  There is something more that tempers that image for us.  Any mother could tell you that nursing is not only a function of the transfer of food, or only a physical act by which a baby gets nourishment.  There is an intimacy and a deep union – a communion we could say – between a nursing mother and her child.  Nursing is also about bonding the mother and child, not just about feeding.  And there is something of God and of the spiritual life there too.  I think that’s why a preacher like St. Peter would use the image.

As you and I continue to celebrate the joy of Easter and as we hear that antiphon telling us to be like newborn infants longing for pure, spiritual milk, we should note that we best not be grabbing at the things of God.  Rather, we should note that our soul is called to an intimacy, to a communion with God.  Our distancing, by the time it ends, would be wasted if we return to more normal practice of the faith in an entitled way, grabbing at God’s gifts.  No, let’s nurture a longing within ourselves such that our return to normalcy is marked by the peaceful, contented, relaxed assurance of an infant, knowing that God feeds us.  If we struggle or doubt in this odd time frame, let Jesus’ action in the Gospel we heard today assure you.  What can we make of his twice appearing within that locked room where his apostles were?  I suggest the lesson that we want to take away is that there are no obstacles that can prevent the Risen Lord from feeding us with his presence and his grace and his gift of peace.  Just as locked doors and walls were no obstacle to him doing whatever he wanted, so our distancing, our suspension of the normal sacramental life does not create an obstacle for God who can impart the spiritual milk of his grace however and wherever.  Even now in these days, long for the Lord and expect him to appear in your midst.  Expect him to show the wounds that are the mark of his credibility as the one who suffers with you.  Expect him to speak to you: Peace be with you!

Good Friday

Good Friday
10 April 2020

In my homily yesterday at the Mass of the Lord’s Supper for Holy Thursday, my focus was on Jesus’ sacramental offering of himself even before he died physically.  And my hope for us is that we understand that Jesus truly and really offered himself in that First Holy Communion at the Last Supper.  There was nothing lacking in that offering of himself on Holy Thursday, even as he awaited the completion of that offering in the flesh on the Cross on that first Good Friday.  Yesterday’s focus was on offering.  Today’s focus is on consummation. 

At the point of his death our Blessed Lord spoke these words that we have translated into English: “It is finished.”  That is a translation of the Latin Vulgate biblical text.  In Latin the Lord’s phrase is: “Consummatum est.”  That phrase does indeed carry with it the notion that something is brought to completion.  And so our English text can rightly say, “It is finished.”  But I want to highlight something in the Latin as a point of attention for us today.  Looking at the root of the Latin there is not only a sense of completion but also a sense that something is being “brought all together.”  Still more, there is a root sense that something is “being perfected” or “being brought to its highest form.”  And this gathering together, this being brought to perfection, is not happening in isolation but together with something else, or with others.

With that in mind I offer this simple and brief thought for today.  We recall the enduring love of God for us and the depth to which He goes to save us.  Veiled in our flesh such that His glory as God is hidden, He goes still further and is veiled under brutal torture and disfigurement.  His glory and love is not recognizable and it is not recognizable because of our sin, our pride, and our rejection of him.  Do not hear in English “It is finished” to mean that a book or a story is closed, done, nothing more to happen.  Rather, consider the root meanings from the Latin.  The Lord completes his self-offering on the Cross.  In that sense, in the flesh, his offering is consummated.  But remember his act on the Cross, was to bring all together, to bring to perfection, and to do so not in isolation, but to bring others along with his offering.

Perhaps that can be a focal point for our experience this Holy Week.  Perhaps that can help us understand the ache and the longing in our hearts.  Our longing is about more than just desiring a return to normal.   Rather, it is a recognition that the Divine Heart of Jesus beats for us and pours out His love.  Our hearts receive that love if we will lift the veil of our sin, our pride, and our rejection of him.  Our hearts are brought together into his offering.  And that is why we long to receive him in Holy Communion.  Jesus’ self-offering is complete, it is finished.  But it is not the end of story… may we be determined to freely cooperate with him and to be brought together, to be brought into his perfect offering.  Receiving his grace and his love, may we go forth as disciples who seek to be co-workers with the Lord in bringing others souls all together into his self-offering for salvation.

Holy Thursday

Holy Thursday
9 April 2020

On this holy night that begins the Sacred Triduum, the sacred three days that celebrate how Christ accomplished our salvation, the Church reflects on three principal mysteries from the Last Supper.  Our attention is drawn to our Blessed Lord’s example of humble charity.  Charity is love, and it is modeled for us in the washing of the apostles’ feet together with the Lord’s explicit command that our lives too must be marked by humble charity and service of others.  Our attention is drawn to the institution of the Sacrament of the Holy Eucharist, that greatest, most august sacrament that makes present truly and really the Lord’s sacrifice for our salvation, the offering of the gift of his whole self.  Our attention is also drawn to the institution of the Sacrament of the Priestly Order.  We believe that our Lord’s command to the apostles, “Do this in memory of me,” conferred upon them a real authority from the Lord to continue his mission in this world through his Church.  If that command did not confer upon them the priestly office and authority then his words would be meaningless, rendering what the apostles would go on to do in his name little more than re-enactment or religious theatre.  But no, our faith tells us that the Lord in his divine love and mercy for us made his offering of self on this night at the Last Supper.  Having a love that knows no bounds, our Lord also established the way that his offering could be and would be made present in every time and place in this world.  With such a focus on the priesthood I am delighted to acknowledge here with us a few priests.  Of course, my assistant, Fr. Bali whose presence is a source of great blessing and comfort to our parish.  We welcome back Fr. Stanley who, together with seminarian Martin Parizek, is here to form a small choir to add beauty to this Mass.  A happy day of the priesthood to you, my brothers!  I am grateful to you Fr. Stanley and Martin for your initiative in providing chant at this Mass.

In the course of the Last Supper, gathered for the expected Passover meal, Jesus did something new in the presence of his apostles.  He fulfilled the Passover and transformed it to refer to himself.  At the Last Supper the Lord truly and really offered himself under the appearance of unleavened bread and wine.  And he did that in view of what he would accomplish the next day on the Cross.  Before he even died on the Cross Jesus offered himself at the Last Supper.  That can perhaps seem a bit mysterious to us, right?  What does it mean and how do we understand the Lord offering himself in Holy Communion at the Last Supper when in fact he had not yet died on the Cross?  Is there something inauthentic or, at worst, fraudulent and empty in that first Holy Communion at the Last Supper?  How can we understand what took place this evening so long ago?

I suggest to you there is nothing at all in conflict, or inauthentic, or hollow in the sacramental offering the Lord made of himself at the Last Supper.  And I think you know this already and you understand it in a different context.  So, let’s switch to that other context.

We have all been to weddings.  A couple who has grown in relationship, in trust, and in love for one another determines they desire to commit to one another permanently.  They desire to publicly express their love and to embark on a new mission as spouses who are called to make their love enfleshed and complete in sacrificial self-giving and in openness to the gift of children.  When you attend such a wedding and witness such a couple’s offering of their love to one another, is there anything unusual, inauthentic, or hollow in their offering in that moment at the wedding?  I bet you would say, “No, there isn’t.”  That newly married couple must still enflesh and consummate their vowed love later after forming their spousal relationship at the wedding.  But you easily recognize that simply because they have not yet consummated their vowed love there is nothing inauthentic or out of place or somehow less than true about their love when a couple exchanges their vows on their wedding day.  It is true and real and meaningful on that very day and in that very moment of the wedding when they profess: “I promise to be faithful to you, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love you and to honor you all the days of my life.”  The same can easily be understood then of the self-offering Jesus makes in his divine love at the Last Supper.  In the course of that meal, taking bread and wine, Jesus offered himself sacramentally, Body, Blood, Soul, and Divinity.  He did so in view of what he would accomplish the following day on the Cross.  Yet by virtue of still awaiting the Cross, there was nothing inauthentic or hollow in that first Holy Communion received by the Apostles.  This is how we understand what the Lord did on this evening.

This evening is about the Lord’s offering of himself in sacramental form, a form that is so familiar to us as Catholics.  It would be easy for us to focus this year on what we are not “getting” or not “receiving” this evening, namely distribution of Holy Communion.  But I want to encourage you to not miss the opportunity that history and pandemic affords this Holy Thursday, an opportunity to re-orient our thoughts so that when we arrive at our longed-for return to normal, we will arrive changed and strengthened in faith.  St. Augustine, the son of our parish patroness, in a homily on St. John’s Gospel remarked on the type of expected return of favor when you are invited by someone to a dinner.  Reflecting upon St. John’s account of the Last Supper, St. Augustine remarked that at the Last Supper there follows a consequence for those who ate (cf. Tractate 84).  What Jesus was serving was not merely the type of fare you would find on an ordinary menu and certainly not at an ordinary Passover.  Rather, our Lord was serving divine love, a love that has nothing greater, because he was laying down his life.  Like the Apostles, if we receive and eat the offering of that love then the consequence is that we likewise must return the favor, so to speak.  In other words, as St. John writes elsewhere, “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us; and we ought to lay down our lives for the brethren” (1 Jn. 3:16).  St. Augustine connects this consequence to what is found in the Book of Proverbs, “When you sit down to eat with a ruler, observe carefully what is before you;” knowing that you are bound to make similar preparations (cf. Proverbs 23:1, the text has difficulties and interpretations beyond the words often published in bibles).  Rather than focusing on what we are not receiving this year, and making Holy Thursday 2020 wasted on lament, might we focus on what we have received so very often before pandemic upended everything?  Might we focus that we have come to the sacred table of our great King – the altar – so many times to receive what is set before us and that the consequence for us is that we likewise are supposed to offer ourselves in imitation of the Lord?  St. Augustine refers to the words of St. Peter who highlights the same consequence: “Christ … suffered for you, leaving you an example, that you should follow in his steps” (1 Pt. 2:21).  If Jesus makes an offering that is the sacrifice of his life for us, and if we have received that offering in Holy Communion so many times, have we returned the favor?  Have we made similar preparations by offering ourselves for him?  Have we laid down our lives to be his disciples?  Have we laid down our tendency to sin and to choose our own plans?  Have we laid down our selfish focus on my time and my wants in order to hear and respond to the vocation God gives us?  Have we laid down our egos and pride in order to fufill the mission we have to be public witnesses to the Lord in this world?  Or do we hide our faith?  Do we take up our own pursuits?  Do we refuse to seriously address and change our sins?  In other words, have we eaten of this offering before // but not yet returned the favor?

As you are encouraged to accept the grace of a spiritual communion this Holy Thursday, perhaps the call to lay down our selfish pursuits and follow the example of the Lord can be our focus.  In other words, perhaps our focus this year can be more on what we ourselves are supposed to give and what we ourselves are supposed to offer, rather than on what we are not receiving this year.  In this way, like the Lord, may we embrace our crosses and be prepared to accomplish in our flesh the offering we speak and we desire by our presence at the sacrificial banquet of our great King and Eternal High Priest!