The Resurrection of the Lord The Mass of Easter Day

March 27, 2016

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A man was driving along the road when he saw the Easter Bunny hop into his lane. He swerved to avoid hitting the bunny, but couldn’t do so.

The basket of eggs went everywhere.

The driver felt guilty and began to cry.

A woman saw the man and pulled over.

AWhat=s wrong?@ she asked.

AI accidentally killed the Easter Bunny,@ he explained.

The woman knew exactly what to do.

She went to her car, pulled out a spray can, walked over to the Bunny, and sprayed the entire contents over the little furry animal.

Miraculously the Easter Bunny came back to life, jumped up, picked up his eggs, waved at them and hopped on down the road.

Not far away the Easter Bunny stopped, turned around and waved again.

He kept doing this for as far as they could see. 

The man was astonished. 

AWhat in heaven=s name is in that can you sprayed on the Easter Bunny?@

The woman showed the man the label.

It said: AHair spray. Restores life to dead hair. Adds permanent wave.@

For many of our children the bunny and its eggs are the most important thing about Easter.

Over the millennia, Christianity has had a gift for domesticating local traditions and festivals, bringing them on board and making them our own.

The name Easter comes from the Anglo Saxon spring festival in honor of the goddess Eostre.

Her symbol was the rabbit and the giving of eggs were signs of new life bursting forth as winter withdrew.

These associations only make sense in the northern hemisphere, but we can see why the early Christians could be so adaptable and enculturated with this local festival.

In both hemispheres Christians today celebrate Jesus being raised from the dead.

In the New Testament there are two traditions about how the disciples come to know about Jesus= resurrection:

the empty tomb and the apparitions of Christ.

Today=s Gospel belongs to the empty tomb tradition.

On Magdalene=s urging, Peter and John run to the tomb, find it empty and come to at least an initial belief about the resurrection of Jesus.

We do not believe that God simply revived Jesus= corpse in the tomb, as our driver resuscitated the bunny in today=s story.

Easter Sunday does not celebrate the resuscitation of Jesus, but his Resurrection.

 We know his Aglorified body@ was not the same as his human body because Jesus= presence could be encountered in several places simultaneously and he is reported to walk through walls and to vanish.

The link between both resurrection traditions is the importance of Jesus= death.

In the empty tomb accounts, as in today=s gospel, the writers give us extraordinary details about the grave clothes.

In the apparition narratives there are usually references to Jesus= wounds.

Whatever way they came to experience the Resurrection of Christ, the disciples knew that this was Jesus who actually died and was buried and that their personal encounter was with the one who was crucified.

What God did through the death and resurrection of Jesus is what Christians have done with local customs and festivals ever since:

he entered into it, understood it, took it on board, domesticated it and vanquished its power.

As a result we believe that God empathizes with the full limitations of our human mortality and promises to remain faithful to us in death as he remained utterly faithful to Jesus.

That is why on this day 1,600 years ago, St. John Chrysostom could say on behalf of us all:

AHell took a body, and discovered God.

It took earth, and encountered Heaven.

It took what it saw, and was overcome by what it could not see.

O death, where is your sting?

O Hell, where is your victory?

Christ is Risen, and you, O death, are destroyed!

Christ is Risen, and evil is cast down!

Christ is Risen, and angels rejoice!

Christ is Risen, and new life is set free!

Christ is Risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead;

for Christ having risen from the dead, becomes the first-fruit of those who have fallen asleep.

To Him be Glory and Power forever and ever. Amen!@

The Resurrection of the Lord Vigil

March 27, 2016

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During Holy Week, we spend a lot of time recounting the story of Jesus, especially as it pertains to the last days of his life.

But on the night of the Easter Vigil, the story we tell stretches back to the dawn of creation and fast- forwards through to the resurrection and beyond.

I say "beyond," because it is no longer a static story of what took place in the past.

All of us stand at the entrance of the tomb this very evening, like the three women and Peter, trying to make sense of what we see.

Some of us stand here for the first time as those newly embracing the faith, peering into a surprisingly empty place and saying, "Dare I, even now, believe this news?"

Some are new only to this community of the church, and stare into the unknowable commitment they have made and wonder, "What will I find here when the morning comes?"

For most of us, who have stood here again and again over many years, the darkness of the cave may hold less terror, but no less wonder.

After all these years, the tomb is still full of unanswered questions, hair-raising doubts, and mystery.

What will we find when we come looking for Jesus this time?

Imagine what each of the characters of the gospel story found.

Mary Magdalene had known Jesus, first as the man who freed her from her demons, and later as her Lord and friend.

When she went with her friends carrying spices to the tomb at dawn, she hoped only to return a favor to one whom she loved.

But she got more than she ever bargained for.

She got an empty tomb.

She got angels in dazzling robes.

She got a gospel of resurrection and a commission to proclaim it!

Joanna had made an investment in the ministry of Jesus.

Literally an investment:

she was one of the women whose resources funded the out-of-pocket expenses of Jesus and his mission ( see Luke 8: 1-3)

She was the wife of King Herod's steward, and as such an unlikely candidate for discipleship.

One must wonder what it did for her marriage to be a known supporter of a rival king.

Joanna made her choices, and they brought her all the way to the empty tomb.

Her husband may have banked his future on Herod's court, but she was speculating in another kind of kingdom, and her stock was about to go sky high.

Mary, the mother of James, is not to be confused with Mrs. Zebedee, the mother of two disciples, James and John.

More likely she is the mother of James, son of Alphaeus ( see Luke 6: 12-16) , who is later known by the rather humble name James the Lesser.

Though her son will one day be the leader of the Jerusalem community, at the moment he is cowering in an upper room in town with the rest of the Twelve.

No matter.

She has made the choice to take the risk and be here, where the action is, where unsuspecting new life has just emerged from death.

As a mother, she understands that no life is delivered without pain and sacrifice; —but life from crucifixion?

A birth of unimaginable hope!

Peter brings up the rear, maybe no less incredulous than the others when they hear the women's testimony, but at least willing to seek verification of their story.

He's late to the party, sees no angels, hears no pronouncements.

But he sees the tomb, the stone, the cloths, and the kernel of faith is planted through his efforts.

We all come to the tomb tonight, the sinners, the investors, the life bearers, the latecomers.

Each of us arrives with a dream        

and comes away with more than our wildest hopes.

Good Friday C

Image: 
"According to the Burial Custom,"
Jan Richardson, 2012.

March 25, 2016

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Given that we have just heard the greatest story ever told, let us reflect on three great questions in John’s Passion:

                  “Who are you looking for?”

                  “What charge do you bring against this man?”

                  “Aren’t you another of that man’s disciples?”

In the Passion the answers run:

                  “Jesus of Nazareth”

                  “King of the Jews”

                  “I am not.” 

We would not be here this afternoon if our answer to the first question was not the same as the soldiers.

For vastly different reasons we also seek Jesus of Nazareth.

Rather than arrest him, however, we’re here because his love has arrested us.

 Rather than mock the Kingdom he proclaimed, we are heirs to it, servants of his reign.

Rather than condemn him to be crucified, we see in his death our path to freedom.

“Who are we looking for?” Jesus of Nazareth IS the one we seek.

The second question belongs to Pilate.

On the basis of the charge that Jesus is a rival king to Caesar, he is condemned to death.

All these years later we know Jesus still presides over a Kingdom of justice and peace.

He remains a threat to anyone in our world, anyone here today, who stands against faith, hope and love.

“What charge do you bring against this man?”

We stand accused of claiming his reign in our lives.

The third question is to Peter.

Although Peter wanted to remain faithful to Jesus, fear got the better of him. Most of us can be empathetic to his plight.

Faced with a choice between Jesus and death, how many of us would choose death?

And because actions always speak louder than words, every time we compromise the goodness of God within us

or work to undermine another person’s rights to dignity and life,

we join Peter around that fire denying that we are a disciple of Jesus.

“Aren’t you another of that man’s disciples?”

If only we were more so.

The good news today is that apprehension, accusation, and denial were not the last words in Jesus’ life.

And because of Him they’re not the last words in our lives either.

No matter what we’ve done or what we’re doing, nothing can separate us from the love of God poured out in Jesus Christ the Lord.

No matter what particular crosses we carried with us into the Church this evening, we believe that God’s commitment to us was such that he even went to suffering and death to reveal his saving love.

If we feel apprehensive, allow Christ to arrest us with his peace.

If we stand accused of destructive behavior, allow Christ to convert our hearts and change our lives.

If we deny Christ by what we say or how we live, let’s decide today to be as faithful to him as he is to us.

I promise you that by doing this a surprising thing will happen.

Even in the midst of carrying our own particular crosses we will feel the weight lifted as the one who loves us helps shoulder our burdens as well.

It’s no wonder we call today “Good Friday.”

What greater goodness could we know than that the Cross of Jesus reveals that our God, whether named or not, is our companion at every step of life’s journey? 

Holy Thursday 2016 C

Image: 
"In the Cup of the New Covenant,"
Jan Richardson, 2012.

March 24, 2016

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In the Passover, we see God passing over us as a protective angel, preserving us from harm, leading us out of bondage into freedom.

Jesus then passes beyond being Lord and master and kneels before us as our humble servant.

If we are to belong to him, we must allow him to wash our feet. In both of these instances, the saving action is God's. 

The initiative is God's; the magnanimity is God's; the self-emptying is God's.

We have nothing to contribute to these amazing happenings.

All we have to do is accept the salvation that is offered.

On this day of Eucharist, our only response is a sacrifice of thanksgiving,

a sacrifice that is really our openness to receive the sacrifice of God—the sacrifice of the lamb and the sacrifice of Jesus' self-emptying service.

Who could have imagined that any of this would happen?

A motley group of runaway laborers escapes from the clutches of their superpower overlords; bread and wine is changed into the body and blood of a man who is being hunted down;

the Son who was sent by God into the world washes the feet of his disciples.

It is no wonder that Peter initially resisted.

God's love for us is beyond comprehension.

This night we are left with the directive:

"As I have done, so you must do."

Our thanksgiving is expressed in our own self-emptying service of others.

Having received the gifts of God, we give them away; they flow from God through us to others.

Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion C

Image: Detail of the Tomb Effigy 
of Elizabeth Boott Duveneck Frank Duveneck
(1848–1919) Date: 1891, cast 1927. 
Photo by Rick Morley.

March 20, 2016

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After his resurrection, Jesus was thronged by hundreds of people in heaven.

Most were there to welcome him; some were there to thank him for the help he had given them while on earth.

A few were there in wonderCin wonder at how he had endured so much during his passion.

When the excitement died down, these latter few cornered Jesus to ask him how he had managed to accept so much pain and suffering.

They discussed what had made him do it.

Was it the thought of getting it over and getting to heaven?

No

Was it the memory of all these grateful faces of people he had helped during his lifetime?

No

Was it a matter of duty to accomplish what God had sent him to do?

No

Was it to inspire all of Jesus' followers to hang in there when the going got rough?

No

So the twenty-question interrogation continued until one of the group finally asked Jesus directly what had kept him going.

Jesus' answer was simple.

He was about ready to give it all up when Judas turned him over to the soldiers for thirty pieces of silver.

This betrayal was shattering.

Just when Jesus thought it could get no worse, Peter turned on him by denying him three times.

This was worse than the sting of any whip-lash.

Jesus felt that his whole life had been wasted on men he had trusted,

but who ran in the face of adversity.

Just when he was about to give up, Jesus noticed something that gave him all the support he needed to make his ordeal worth it.

At a short distance away, he caught sight of a small group of women who were standing watch with him.

They feared no one, didn't care whether anyone saw them.

What scared the men away brought these women closer.

They knew what it meant to suffer for others and they were not going to abandon the one who was suffering for them.

And for Jesus, this made all the difference.

Who Can Receive Communion?

Image: 
"In the Cup of the New Covenant,"
Jan Richardson, 2012.

If your hand or foot causes you to sin, cut it off and throw it away! If your eye causes you to sin, pluck it out! It is better, we are told, to live blind and maimed than to be thrown into “fiery Gehenna” with all our body parts intact (Mark 9:42–48, Matthew 18:6–9). What are we to make of Jesus’ teachings? They seem pretty clear. However, interestingly enough, the Catholic Church would consider it a mortal sin if someone with sound mind willingly engaged in the sort of self-mutilation Jesus recommends. Now, let’s get that straight: If someone were to obey the seemingly clear teaching of Jesus about the benefits of self-mutilation for the good of one’s soul, it would actually be a mortal sin! The church interprets these verses as an example of Jesus using extreme exaggeration in order to teach a lesson. In this case, Jesus is emphasizing how important it is to worry about how our actions affect our eternal life with God, not literally telling us to cut of our own limbs. I am certainly not attempting to undermine the authority of scripture or to challenge Christ’s teachings. What I am trying to point out is that when using scripture to guide our moral lives, we almost always have to enter into a process of interpretation. And this process is not always as clear as we would like it to be. Some Catholics (including some bishops and cardinals!) have appealed to scripture to justify their positions on whether divorced and remarried Catholics can ever receive communion. The Extraordinary and Ordinary Synods on the Family held in Rome last October and this month, respectively, have garnered a great deal of press coverage because of these debates. But do these positions remain true to the tradition of biblical interpretation? The first thing that needs to be recognized is that nowhere does Jesus explicitly address the topic of who may or may not receive communion at a Catholic Mass. This seems like such an obvious point; however, one doesn’t need to read too many of these debates to find that some on both sides seem to forget this fact. Let’s take a look at some of those scriptures that are seen as relevant to the debate. Those who argue for a more “merciful” or “pastoral” approach appeal to the scriptures where Jesus spends time with sinners, sharing meals with them and causing scandal with the religious leaders of his time. One might look at passages like Mark 2:17, Luke 5:30–32, or Matthew 9:12 where Jesus tells the Pharisees, “Those who are well do not need a physician, but the sick do. Go and learn the meaning of the words ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ I did not come to call righteous but sinners.” When the Pharisees and Scribes complain that Jesus welcomes sinners, Jesus responds by telling them the parables of the Lost Sheep, Lost Coin, and Prodigal Son (Luke 15:1–32). Jesus tell us that those who expect to enter into the Kingdom of God may be cast out with “wailing and grinding of teeth” while “the last shall be first” (Luke 13:22–30). When Jesus encounters a woman accused of committing adultery, he does not condemn her, but tells the gathered crowd “let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw the stone at her” (John 8:7). Violating the social restrictions of his time, Jesus speaks with a Samaritan woman at a well despite the fact that she has had five husbands and the man with whom she currently lives is not her husband (John 4:4–42). Of course, none of these passages explicitly deal with who may receive the Eucharist. However, many find it difficult to reconcile this image of Jesus with the position that no divorced and remarried Catholic may ever be allowed to receive communion under any circumstances. On the other side of the argument there is just as much biblical justification. In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus explains that even though Moses permitted divorce, this was not God’s plan. Jesus tells the Pharisees that “what God has joined together, no human being must separate” (10:9). Later, Jesus privately tells his disciples, “Whoever divorces his wife and marries another commits adultery against her; and if she divorces her husband and marries another, she commits adultery” (10:11–12). In Paul’s letter to the Romans (7:1–3) we are told that a woman must not consort with another man as long as her husband is alive, lest she become an adulteress. None of these passages mention communion either. But the reasoning goes that because a divorced and remarried couple is understood to be in an ongoing state of adultery, they should not have access to the grace available in the Eucharist until they have abandoned their adulterous relationship (or at least committed to sexual abstinence for the rest of their life together). Those advocating for greater leniency on who may receive communion are not arguing that the marriage covenant can be dissolved (which is a matter of church doctrine), but only that there may be some circumstances that allow a couple to receive communion (a matter of church discipline). However, church doctrine and discipline are intimately connected. A change in church discipline can affect how one understands doctrine. Even though no one is advocating a change in doctrine, the understanding of how the church interprets scripture and applies this interpretation in its teaching on the indissolubility of marriage is not as clear cut as many seem to believe. For example: Matthew’s gospel (19:1–12) also tells us that to divorce and remarry is to commit adultery; however, there is an exception if there is porneia. In the various English translations of the Bible, this word might be translated to mean “lust,” “unchastity,” “unfaithfulness,” “wantonness,” “fornication,” “incest,” or simply if the marriage is “unlawful.” It seems that there is a biblically-based exception to the teaching about the indissolubility of marriage and we are not even sure what that exception is. What does this word mean? In light of the ambiguity, where does the benefit of the doubt go? Should we introduce a certain humility in the way this teaching is interpreted and applied? Does the church even teach that marriage is indissoluble? Actually, no. You may or may not have heard of “Privileges of the Faith,” or Pauline and Petrine Privileges. The Pauline Privilege, based on the First Letter to the Corinthians (7:12–15), allows for the dissolution of a marriage between two unbaptized people if one of them becomes Christian. Confused? Suffice it to say that nowhere in the gospels does Jesus provide for this exception to his teaching about marriage and adultery. The description of this can be found in the Code of Canon Law (1143). Therefore, The Pauline Privilege represents a particular interpretation of 1 Corinthians and then an application of this interpretation to a specific pastoral circumstance. There is another “Privilege of the Faith” sometimes called the “Petrine Privilege.” It involves a baptized Catholic who married an unbaptized person (with permission from the church) and now wants to marry another Catholic (or other baptized Christian). In these circumstances, the pope can “dissolve the marriage bond.” Is this situation addressed in scripture? Of course not. This exception represents another instance where the church is interpreting the spirit of the scriptures and then applying this understanding to a specific pastoral situation. The church teaches that the only marriages that are indissoluble are sacramental marriages that have been consummated. Now, Jesus didn’t talk about “sacramental marriages” or “consummation” when he addressed remarriage and adultery in scripture. But, the church has done what it has always done (and always can do); seek the guidance of the Holy Spirit in interpreting the scriptures and applying these interpretations to specific pastoral circumstances. There is no reason that the same process of interpretation shouldn’t continue today. Father Paul Keller's online column, Smells like sheep, focuses on the places where pastoral ministry, public policy, theology, and ethics converge. - See more at: http://www.uscatholic.org/blog/201510/problem-biblical-justifications-divorce-30422#sthash.jDlIhHQF.dpuf

Fifth Sunday of Lent C

Image: Wood Carving, Poland, Magdalene and Jesus,
from Art in the Christian Tradition,
a project of the Vanderbilt Divinity Library, Nashville, TN.

March 13, 2016

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It is a scene from a nightmare. Yet it turns out well.

Pretend that you are the woman in Sunday’s Gospel.

You have been “caught in adultery,” a shocking sin.

The officials shove you into a mob of people.

They see your hot shame and how it burns.

They recite the ancient law of Moses: “The sacred law says you must be stoned to death for your crime.”

Stoned to death!

The sin is bad enough, humiliation is bad enough!

There was a man everyone called the “Teacher.”

He had been captivating the crowd just before you were dragged in. Now you have become the center of attention.

The nightmare gets worse.

But there is more.

By means of your humiliation the accusers want to trap not only you but the Teacher as well, and to disgrace him.

They are using you for this purpose.

Now you see that your devastation is a mere tool!

They question the Teacher.

Doesn’t he agree you should be stoned to death?

They have him in the snare, this “teacher,” this dreamer who always preaches about forgiveness and love.

If he defends you for the sake of his so-called love, he will break the law of Moses!

If he does not he must follow the law, pick up a stone and throw it.

Teacher leans down and scratches absent-mindedly in the dirt.

People hold their breath, the accusers worry.

Why is he silent and what will he say?

Now they have some nerves of their own.

Let us figure out his answer.

It could be that the Teacher is thinking something like this:

He might be praying, “My Abba has loved each of them through all ages, no matter whether they were sinners or not. ‘

Be my people,’ Abba always begged them.”

For “Father” he is using an Arabic word that expresses both familiarity and respect, “Abba.” “

Love one another. I love you, and I forgive your sins.”

But hatred is their motto, not love.

They want death to happen.

They shout again, “What is your answer?

Shall we follow the law and stone this sinful woman?”

Remember, you are that woman, and you stand in humiliation, cheeks hot and tears falling.

Your heart says, in terror, “the accusers are right!”

But the teacher lifts his head.

He utters a sentence that sums up the Gospel and all of Lent.

Let the one among you who is without sin throw the first stone.

The crowd creeps away, submerged in their own consciences.

Now you stand alone before this quiet Teacher, and your terror is quieted.

There is something about him that carries you, brings you out to solid ground.

“Well, where are they,” he asks. “Has no one condemned you?”

You say, “No one, sir.”

He also asks, “Do you condemn yourself?”

You spend a long time on this answer, because it is so very hard.

Finally you whisper, “I do not want to condemn myself, Teacher.” 

“Neither do I condemn you,” answers Jesus. “Go and sin no more.”

This scene could refashion the whole earth.

If we could each accept our own sinfulness as well as the forgiveness that surrounds it, we would have peace.

We would drink compassion from God, who has been there all along, tracing in the sand.

We stammer at last, “I believe, Lord. Help my unbelief.”