Proclamation

Megaphone

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


In a way, the readings of today, on the Feast of St. Philip and James, reach their climax in the psalm.

In today’s gospel, Philip’s horizons are broadened–he asks to see the Father, and Jesus explains His own relationship with the Father. But then He goes on to explain the action of the Father, and of the Son. As the Son proclaims the Kingdom of God, it is the Father in Him doing His works. But then He explains to Philip that His disciples will do even greater works, as He returns to the Father–and that whatever they ask in His name will be done. Philip receives the unexpected explanation that He will extend Jesus’ mission, in a glorious way.

In the first reading, which takes place chronologically after the Gospel passage, we hear how Jesus appeared to the Apostles–and James is mentioned by name. So, Jesus not only empowers His disciples to do greater things than He has done; He also reveals His glorious, resurrected self to them. He empowers them; He reveals Himself to them.

It is in the psalm that we discover what Jesus preparation of His disciples leads to. “Their message goes out to all the earth.” “Through all the earth their voice resounds, and to the ends of the world, their message.”

This is what we celebrate on today’s feast: That the effect of the empowering of the disciples, and the revelation of the glorious resurrected Christ, is the evangelization of the world. St. Philip and St. James, along with the other Apostles, are the very embodiment of this evangelizing mission.

If Jesus is empowering us and revealing Himself to us in our Christian life, especially our prayer life, He is doing so to equip us to aid Him in the massive and worthy task of the evangelization and salvation of humanity.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Tell Jesus that you don’t want to keep Him all to yourself. Tell Him that you accept His request to focus all the energy of your love on union with God, and also on the evangelization and salvation of your fellow humans. Tell Him that you understand that your spiritual path ultimately leads necessarily to service, and ask Him to help you remain faithful to that call.

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The Shell

Shell

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


The Bible, both Old Testament and New Testament, is interlaced through and through with the theme of hardness of heart.

Maybe when you hear that phrase, the word “Meribah” enters your mind. For indeed, perhaps the most famous example of God’s rebuke to His chosen people for their hardness of heart is the occasion when Israel complained against God as a place called Massah and Meribah because they were thirsty. (cf. Ex. 17:7) Their focus on their physical discomfort, instead of leading them to ask God humbly for what they needed, led them to complain bitterly against God as if He were not providing for them adequately.

Today’s readings are full of hardness of heart. In the first reading, with the same attitude they showed throughout the Gospels, the religious leaders of Israel saw a miraculous healing as a threat rather than a gift and a sign. They ordered the disciples to stop talking in public about the name by which they had performed the miracle, that is, the name of Jesus.

We see the phrase “hardness of heart” in today’s gospel, when Jesus rebukes His disciples for not believing the word of those who had encountered Him after the Resurrection.

Hardness of heart is very prevalent in Scripture, but it is not a concept that is in fashion in Christian circles today. Hardness of heart is the decision not to follow the promptings of faith, whether promptings to believe and trust, or promptings to follow the dictates of conscience.

It is very prevalent today to speak of woundedness of heart, not hardness of heart, as what keeps people from trusting and accepting the Gospel.

In the end, however, they are similar concepts. “Hardness” is the shell that forms on the heart to protect its vulnerability, to protect it in its wounded state.

We all have wounded hearts, some more than others. Will you harden your heart and protect its vulnerability in its woundedness, like the disciples with their woundedness after the Resurrection, or will you expose your wounds full of trust to the glorious and all-powerful risen Lord, who loves you more than you will ever know?

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Think about the areas where you feel most vulnerable, the fears and wounds that would be most likely to lead you to a lack of trust and commitment to Christ. Offer those specific things to Him. With wanton generosity, tell Him that these are His; that He is free to allow you to suffer, or not; that you trust Him unconditionally.

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Caught in Christ’s Net

Casting a Net

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Consider the emotional state of the disciples as today’s gospel begins. On the one hand, they are filled with wonder at the reality of the risen Lord. It is such an amazing reality that their minds really can’t even process it. On the other hand, however, the risen Jesus is not accessible to them at that moment. This combination of realities leaves them antsy; they can’t sit still. What can they do? How are they to fill their time as they wait for Jesus to (hopefully) come among them sometime again? The answer: Go fishing. It seems ridiculously mundane under the circumstances, probably even to them, but it is something to do for healthy distraction.

But their minds are on only one thing: Jesus. Even so, when Jesus shows up on the shore, they do not recognize him immediately. Something significant about Jesus’ appearance has changed since He rose from the dead, and the Gospels are very mysterious about this. He is the same, yet different. He is fully physical and human, and yet transcends physical constraints.

Nor does He strike them, however, as any random stranger on the shore. When He tells them to cast their nets on the other side of the boat, they obey Him. Simon Peter had only obeyed a similar command before the Resurrection, because the command had come from Him: “Master, we have worked hard all night and have caught nothing, but at your command I will lower the nets.” Now, though, Peter changes the nets to the other side of the boat without questioning. Something about this man whom he has not yet recognized is compelling. Perhaps he is thinking that it might be Jesus, but is not sure.

John is the first to affirm His identity: “It is the Lord.” Upon which, Simon Peter plunges into the water. He doesn’t want the fish. He wants Christ.

Even when the disciples are eating with Jesus, they are not completely sure it is He; they are tempted to ask Him, but dare not. Christ is everything to them; He is their happiness and fulfillment; His Resurrection is their joy; but He also remains a mystery to them.

The same Simon Peter of today’s gospel appears in the first reading, filled with the Holy Spirit, bearing confident witness in the face of enemies to that same risen Lord. But even then, this confident apostle is not enjoying definitive possession of His prize, which is perfect union with His Lord. This is reserved for Heaven.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Thank Jesus for His Resurrection, for all that it has meant for the possibility of salvation in your life. But also tell Him that there is a certain melancholy in not fully possessing Him just yet, in that degree of separation. Tell Him that you cannot wait until you possess Him definitively in Heaven. Tell Him that your life is like the disciples’ fishing as they waited for Him; that your heart is restless until it rests in Him.

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Restrained Power

Magma

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Today’s readings are full of wonder.

In the first reading, Peter and John have just healed a crippled man. The scene reminds us of what might happen in our own time if a known cripple suddenly were healed in the sight of all. Rightly, everyone is amazed and wants to understand more. Peter explains how he and John did not heal of their own initiative and power, but by God’s action, and then proceeds to call them all to repentance and belief in the risen Christ.

In today’s gospel, we see the risen Christ in a mysterious and beautiful mode–he eats some fish in front of his disciples, after having appeared without explanation in their midst. He is both part of the physical world, and also utterly unfettered by its limitations.

If we put these two readings together and contemplate with wonder the mysteries of divine power that unfold, we may well proclaim today’s psalm: ” O Lord, our God, how wonderful your name in all the earth!”

There are signs here of an incredible, unlimited power on the part of the risen Christ in these readings. And yet, He uses that power in a subtle way. He does not overwhelm, but just provides a taste and an invitation–much as He does today, in our own hearts.

He is not looking to enforce; He is looking to open a door, and entice human freedom to walk through it, while changing our natural surroundings as little as possible. He even leaves the natural effects of original sin, that is, our fallen nature and the brokenness of the natural world, in place in respect for that freedom.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Tell Jesus that you believe in Him and trust in Him, the risen Lord, with all your heart, even though He does not choose to use His power yet for the full restoration of the world. Ask Him to bring His power completely to bear in you, however, to sanctify you and empower you to assist in His work of salvation.

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Anticipation

Catsup

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


There is something beautiful and exciting about anticipation.

Peter told the cripple in today’s first reading, “Look at us.” The man looked at them, full of excited anticipation, thinking that he was going to receive alms, perhaps something generous, given Peter’s response to him. What he received exceeded his wildest expectations–he immediately experienced strength in his limbs, and the ability to walk. He was fully cured.

It is interesting to note that the man did not expect this. In the gospels, the people whom Jesus cures seem always to expect it, to see it coming. To cure is a native trait, as it were, of Jesus. It is simply something that He does; in a sense, something that He is.

Not so for the disciples. They are mere creatures, with the same human limitations that we all endure. But the Holy Spirit gives them the divine power to accomplish what He asks of them, when He asks it of them. It is a borrowed power, in a sense; not native. But this is what makes our role as Christians, with all our humanity and limitations, particularly exciting. God will not hesitate to “lend” us the power, not to do what we think good, but to do specifically what He asks of us through promptings of the Holy Spirit.

Indeed, there is something beautiful and exciting about anticipation. We see it in today’s gospel, too. As Jesus explains the fulfillment of the Scriptures in the life of the Messiah, the disciples feel a burning excitement of anticipation. They don’t know what’s coming. But they can sense it is something spectacular having to do with Jesus. Even when He is revealed to them in the breaking of the bread, they are left in a state of excited anticipation, as He is immediately removed from their presence, in the most mysterious way.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to fill you with the joy, not of glorious enjoyment, but of anticipation that comes with the Resurrection. Ask Him to apply that excitement to everything that forms part of your life, the highs and the lows–all of which are filled with the promise of your own resurrection from death, and opportunity to offer your life for the resurrection to life of your fellow humans.

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Are We There Yet?

Family Trip

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


The Resurrection of Jesus is beautifully mysterious. In its monumental power, it holds an air of great expectancy: There is an “already” aspect to it, and a “not yet” aspect.

The “already” aspect can be seen empirically in today’s gospel; Jesus has clearly “already” risen. And yet, the “not yet” aspect is there too. “Stop holding on to me, for I have not yet ascended to the Father.” It’s as though Jesus’ earthly resurrected embodiment is just a way station on the path to the definitive glory He will enter, and which we will one day enjoy with Him.

We see this dichotomy likewise in the first reading. The power of the resurrected Christ is “already” present, leading to the conversion and baptism of three thousand persons in a day. And yet, what the apostles are “selling,” so to speak, is described as a “promise,” not as a “fulfillment” in the here and now.

Because of the “not yet” element, the Resurrection, perhaps like few other mysteries, provides us with the opportunity of a glorious faith and hope. Even though there will be no joy like definitive possession of God, there is also a special pleasure in the anticipation we can enjoy as we await the full revelation of the Resurrection in which we believe.

Heightening this anticipation is another mystery that we see in today’s gospel: Mary at first does not recognize Jesus, just like the two disciples on their way to Emmaus in another passage. Jesus is Jesus, He is real, He can eat and be touched…but there is something gloriously different about Him, which the Gospel does not fully describe to us.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to fill your heart with the joy of hope, even though you do not yet experience the full joy of eternal revelation.

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The Peak

Mountain Peak

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


“You will not abandon my soul to the netherworld, nor will you suffer your faithful one to undergo corruption.”

Peter points out that David’s prophecy in today’s psalm did not apply to himself, for (rather poignantly), King David’s tomb was present and known to the Jews of Peter’s time.

Rather, Peter tells us that David penned these lines from the psalm with an eye to the promise that his descendant would reign forever; in other words, he penned them with an eye to Jesus’ Resurrection.

Very dramatically, Jesus’ Resurrection is portrayed as the very peak, the epicenter of history itself: The fulfillment of all David, Israel’s greatest king, was looking for. And so it is.

When the Gospel writers use the word “Behold” (“Ecce” in Latin, “ἰδοὺ” in Greek), it seems to signal something powerful and momentous. “Behold the man,” says Pilate, as he displays Jesus before the crowds, impressed at His poise and serenity after being scourged nearly to death.

And today’s gospel uses the word when it presents the risen Jesus for the first time. “And behold, Jesus met them on their way.”

Just like that, Jesus is back, full again of poise and serenity, returned from the dead.

Jesus has risen, never to die again. He is risen, among us now. How we would like to encounter Him, as the women suddenly did when He met them on the way!

While this earthly life is our time of suffering, let us remember that He will come meet us, as He did the women, if we ask Him to.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to encounter you as He did the women. More than likely, He will not take your sufferings away, and He will not solve all your earthly problems. But, as He did for the women, He will give you the inestimable consolation of His presence.

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Quiet Night

Stars

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


The Cross was loud; the Resurrection, silent.

The Cross was public; the Resurrection, private.

And yet the Cross was weakness; the Resurrection, strength.

The Cross was impotence; the Resurrection, power.

“My Kingdom is not of this world,” said Christ to Pilate on Good Friday.

The power of His Resurrection came to bear in this world, but there were few witnesses in this world, and those there were, immediately fainted to unconsciousness.

And after the Resurrection, as St. Peter says in the first reading, God “granted that he be visible, not to all the people, but to us,” His intimate friends.

Understand, Christian, that however much joy God may give you in this life, He is jealously guarding the full manifestation of His glory and your glorious destiny for eternity where, as St. Paul says in today’s second reading, “your life is hidden with Christ in God.”

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Easter will be a day of disappointment if we expect all our earthly problems and sufferings to go away. For us, it is a day of hope, not of fulfillment. Thank Jesus for dying and rising from the dead for you. Tell Him you do not expect fulfillment now, but that you exult in the hope that He has given you this day: hope that you will one day imbibe the fullness of His glory.

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Remember Death

Memento Mori

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


In many respects, Christianity is an earthy religion, staring the less savory aspects of human existence straight in the face.

One of these realities is death. “Memento mori” is a Christian expression dating back into the mists of time: “Remember [your] death.” It is a fitting expression for meditation during Lent. At our death, all the pleasures we have heaped upon ourselves will be for nothing; all the praises of men, mere vanity. “You have lived on earth in luxury and pleasure; you have fattened your hearts for the day of slaughter,” says St. James in the fifth chapter of his letter. This is quite an image: To the extent that we focus our lives on passing pleasures and vanities, we fatten ourselves for the slaughter of eternal condemnation.

We should remember our death, not in fear, but in hope. Christianity is able to face death because death does not destroy the source of the Christian’s joy.

In today’s gospel, Jesus faces death head on. He associates the essence of His work with and for His Father with the calling of the dead to life.

Consider in passing how His enemies were so deaf to His message, that they did not pick up on this key lesson for their lives, but rather only on the claim that inflamed their envy: The claim that God was Jesus’ Father.

Just as occurred with the envious Pharisees, in our smug modern time, when the travails of life have been beaten back a bit by medical advancement and technology, there can be a vain, academic tendency to reduce all Jesus’ words to allegory and metaphor, to read into them too much out of mere academic curiosity.

But when speaking about the resurrection, Jesus was not sitting in some ivory tower classroom in the halls of academia, pontificating vainly about overcoming our little challenges in life and assuaging our psychological boo boos.

He was talking about real death–the kind that comes to us all, putting our bodies six feet underground as food for maggots. And He was talking about resurrection, real resurrection, from that death.

And in similarly plain language, He makes it clear that some rise to life, and some to condemnation–the latter, those who have “fattened their hearts for the day of slaughter.”

Memento mori. Remember death. It comes soon; live with an eye to ensuring resurrection to life, for yourself and as many others as possible.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Imagine the stage of your own death. Maybe quietly in your bed at home, maybe in a hospital bed, maybe in an accident–one way or another, one moment you are here, and the next, you are standing before the Lord, rising either to life or to condemnation. As you look at yourself there, beg Jesus to protect you in His mercy and Providence from sin, and ask Him to make your life fruitful according to His wishes for the salvation of others.

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The Christian Cycle

Unicycles

This is a reflection on the Mass readings of the day.


Of the many servants of God throughout history represented by the servants who came to the vineyard in Jesus’ parable in today’s gospel, Joseph was certainly one.

The pattern Jesus describes holds with Joseph. The vineyard tenants beat one servant, stoned another…In the case of Joseph, his own brothers cast him into a pit and then sold him into slavery.

And the son killed by the tenants in the gospel passage, of course, represents Jesus Himself.

But note the way the gospel passage ends. Jesus quotes Psalm 118:

    The stone that the builders rejected
        has become the cornerstone;
    by the Lord has this been done,
        and it is wonderful in our eyes
.

And we know, of course, that this psalm perfectly prophesies Jesus’ own destiny. Though rejected and killed by His enemies, Jesus is to become the cornerstone of history itself.

But wait! There’s more. Let’s look back at Joseph’s life as well, in the light of Jesus’ own destiny. We see that for Joseph, things work out similarly, in a sense. After being sold into slavery, Joseph ultimately becomes a ruler in Egypt, with decision-making authority over those same brothers who exiled him. He is even restored to his father, whose particular love for him was the cause of his brothers’ envy and resentment in the first place.

Rejected by his family, Joseph becomes the cornerstone of his family.

Now, we may think of Joseph as a foreshadowing of Jesus, because he came before Him, and we would of course be right. But consider the inverse as well. Jesus sheds light on Joseph–He explains him.

So it may be said that He sheds light on our lives too, and explains them. For every Christian, this reality, the stone rejected by the builders rising to become the cornerstone, is repeated as well. Our destiny, even on this earth, like Joseph and like Jesus Himself, is not to descend into a deeper and deeper pit of humiliation and ignominy. It is to descend in self-sacrifice out of love for our brothers and sisters, and then to see ourselves raised up by God Himself, exalted–and endowed with the very power of salvation itself. Maybe once, maybe multiple times, maybe in different ways. But this is the Christian cycle.

Ideas for conversation with the Lord: Ask Jesus to infuse holy excitement and enthusiasm into your heart for your Christian mission, replacing any fatalism or hint of despair. Ask Him to help you to see your life as He sees it; indeed, as He saw His own. Tell Him you entrust your destiny wholly into His care.

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