3rd Sunday after Easter (EF) 2021 - Sorrow changed into joy

Since Easter, our scriptures are taken from the post-resurrection accounts. Today, though, Jubilate Sunday our thoughts begin to be directed toward the coming Ascension of the Lord. The Gospel is taken from the Last Supper Discourse—the Lord’s Farewell address where he prepares his disciples for the end of his earthly ministry culminating in his passion and death. And yet we are presented with the Lord’s farewell speech of the Lord, to help us anticipate his Glorious Ascension. 

No doubt, after his resurrection the apostles desired the Lord to stay among them, much like the way Peter begged the Lord to remain on the mount of transfiguration. But having accomplished His mission, the Lord must return to the Father who sent Him, that the next age of the Church might begin. 

40 days much have seemed like such a short time. The 3 years of his public ministry must have felt like such a short time. 7 times in the Gospel, the Lord uses the word “Modicum”—a little while. “In a little while you shall not see me,” he says. 

Compared to eternity, the time we spend on anything in this life is truly a short time. Our earthly pilgrimage takes place over the course of a modicum of time—just the smallest while—when compared to timeless eternity. For some that causes some trepidation—even sorrow. But we know what awaits us—glory.

Although our earthly pilgrimage is short compared with “the eternal weight of glory” which awaits us, the Lord knows that often our trials are overwhelming—our earthly sufferings seem like an eternity. “You shall lament and weep,” he says, “while the world rejoices”.  It’s not always easy to live with heaven in mind. Sadness and sorrow have a way of causing us to lose our focus, and it takes a real act of faith, to recall that, compared to eternity, our sufferings are fleeting. St. Theresa of Avila famously quipped that compared to eternity, the sufferings of our life are like spending a single evening in an uncomfortable hotel.  That uncomfortable night is seen as a minor inconvenience compared to glory.

It's not easy for the Christian to maintain this perspective, living in the world, after all. For we live among many who do not live with eternity in mind. We live among the worldly who immerse themselves in the passing pleasures of the earth. And sometimes we begin to envy them. And it seems unfair, and it takes constant effort to remind ourselves that those who settle for instant gratification are failing to store up for themselves treasure in heaven. Instead of sincere prayer, fasting, and almsgiving, they seek their reward now. 

The Christian however does not make the aim of our earthly pilgrimage the grasping at carnal pleasures or human attention. Rather, he practices humility, renunciation, and mortification, in order to secure heavenly and eternal happiness. “You shall be sorrowful” in this life, the Lord says, “but your sorrow shall be turned into joy.”

There was an order of monks whose motto was “semper Quadragesima”—always Lent, because they wanted to remain vigilant about putting into practice those Lenten practices all year round, knowing that they hold the key to perfection and joy--jubilation. Jubilation Sunday is a good day for us to consider the spiritual practices, like those we practiced during Lent, that we might need to resume, for joy’s sake.

In the Epistle, St. Peter exhorts us to live on earth with eternity in mind: “Dearly beloved, I beseech you as strangers and pilgrims, to refrain yourselves from carnal desires which war against the soul.” We are strangers in a strange land. We are to live in the world, but not be of the world. Constantly aware of the spiritual battle to remain faithful in temptation.

However, that is not to say that we can’t enjoy our time on earth. God made this world, and he made it very good. As a young seminarian, I would go out to breakfast after morning mass with an old retired priest who had residence at my home parish, Fr. Wilfred Smith. And after grace before the meal, he would always say, “thank God for tastebuds”. In this life, we CAN thank God for tastebuds. We CAN and SHOULD thank God for our ability to enjoy beautiful vistas, beautiful music, delicious aromas and foods, and human closeness. 

And when we approach these things with a spirit of gratitude, immediately thanking God for tastebuds, thanking God who is the giver of gifts, thanking God for our ability to partake in sight and sound and taste and touch, that can certainly help to protect us from living for these things, making false gods of sensible appetites—living for the creature without reference to the Creator, seeking to escape our inevitable sufferings by turning to the finite, instead of opening our souls to the infinite.

God is present in the joys of life, just as he is present in our sufferings.

Whether sorrowing or rejoicing, may we live with our hearts, minds, souls, and strength fixed on the Crucified-and-Risen One, the source of all goodness, mercy, and joy, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.

Palm Sunday 2019 - Sights, Sounds, Silences, Smells, and Sentiments of Holy Week

Today, Palm Sunday, begins Holy Week.  This week is filled with many vivid moments—sights and sounds and silences, smells and sentiments. Today, we hear crowds singing praises to Jesus as he enters Jerusalem as Messiah, and how those praises all too quickly turn into jeering and mocking and calling for crucifixion. 

On Monday, you might even smell the fragrance of aromatic oil anointing the feet of Jesus and hear the spite in the betrayer’s voice, that to anoint Jesus is a waste.

On Tuesday, you might detect how the conviction in St. Peter’s voice to “follow the Lord” anywhere is sadly replaced with fear and denial. The whispers of conspirators and the sound of silver coins are heard on Wednesday.  And On Thursday, perhaps you’ll come to hear the quiet lapping of water, when the Master washes the feet of his disciples and the sound of breaking bread and pouring wine at the Last supper.

Throughout the week, IF you listen, you’ll hear the sounds of crying, whipping, hammering, the cries of crucifixion, prayers offered to the Father, the weeping of a sorrowful mother and the deafening silence of the tomb.

The sounds of Holy Week are piercing and thunderous. Jesus cries out in a loud voice as he gives up His spirit. The curtain of the sanctuary is ripped in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked, boulders split, tombs opened.

Since this  week is filled with so much sound, we are called to do a lot of listening.  Listening to the narratives of Jesus’ final days and hours and moments this week. In this week called “Holy”, grow quiet and Listen!

Turn off the televisions, the iphones, and computers. Log off, and open the book of books. Read and enter into the most important drama. If you can, join us for daily Mass to hear the drama unfold.
It was the practice of many homes to turn off all the radios and televisions, especially on Good Friday, as a way of saying this is not a day for entertainment, but a day of turning my heart to what matters most: sincere repentance and reflection upon the savior’s redemptive self-sacrifice.

If you’ve never attended the liturgies of Holy Thursday, Good Friday or the Easter Vigil, consider attending this year.  The Church’s morning prayer will be prayed during the Triduum at 10am. In such a noisy world, with so many distractions we need these moments to listen to the Word.

If all we listen to are the sounds of the world: the bitterness, the resentment, the violence, and political argument, our lives will soon only echo the values of the world.  We listen to God’s Word—the sound of outpoured love, so that our lives may echo and resound with his beating Sacred Heart.

This week, I encourage you to make time to read through the passion narratives again.  Perhaps pick the part of the passion that resonates with you most. Perhaps, return to that moment, of Simon carrying the heavy cross at Jesus' side, or the hope of the good thief, pleading with Jesus to remember Him, as he comes into His kingdom.  A day shouldn’t go by during this Holiest Week of the Church year, without spending quality time in prayerful reflection upon Jesus’ Passion.

Where will you incline your ear this week?  To the sounds of the world, or, like St. John at the Last Supper, to the savior’s breast,  to the beating heart of the Word made flesh?
 
During the first Holy Week, two thousand years ago, Jesus achieved victory over sin and evil.  During this Holy Week, he wants to extend that victory ever more deeply into our hearts. May we bring our hearts to him in our participation in liturgy, or personal prayer and meditation on Scripture, in fasting, and good works this Holy Week, for the glory of God and salvation of souls.