Easter 4 Tuesday

Sheep, to many Americans, are weak, subservient, and dim-witted creatures. We say “to follow like sheep” when describing unthinking, spineless loyalty. To look “sheepish,” is to look guilty. That’s why when Jesus refers to his followers as sheep, we’re not always sure how to respond.

Jesus and his contemporaries, however, held sheep in high esteem. Sheep were considered honorable and noble animals, because they suffer in silence and are obedient to their shepherds. Some were kept as household pets, and were fed by hand. Ownership of sheep was a sign of wealth. They were offered in sacrifice, not because they were worthless, but because they were so valuable. Jesus himself was called the “lamb of God.”

By calling us sheep, then, Jesus isn’t putting us down. Instead, he’s speaking of how precious we are to him; it’s a reflection of his love. In today’s gospel, he insists that we, his sheep, are the Father’s gift to him. We’re so valuable, that no one can snatch us out of his hand; we’re so treasured, that he gives us eternal life, to be with him forever.

Monday of Easter 4

Very early in my ministry, I pastored a small Texas church, smack in the middle of cattle country. There were real cowboys in my parish. One of them once said to me, "You know, Father, there’s a reason Jesus said that he was the good shepherd, and not the good cowboy." Cows, he explained, are rather obstinate creatures. To get them going in the right direction, they need to be pushed and poked from behind- sometimes with an electric prodder!

Sheep, however, are very different from cows. When they hear their shepherd’s call, they happily follow his lead. Just like Jesus said in today’s gospel: "My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me." In speaking of himself as a shepherd, then, and not a cowboy, it would seem that Jesus is saying that he doesn’t want to have to push us like cows. Instead, he wants us to follow him like sheep.

To follow Jesus like a sheep, however, we need to trust in him. And that’s what our Lord invites us to do today. In the words of a popular hymn, he wants to shepherd us beyond our wants, beyond our fears, from death into life. Should we trust the Jesus our shepherd, we will learn that surely, there is nothing we shall want.

Fourth Sunday of Easter

Over brunch, a friend asked me if the Catholic Church believed if his mother, a die-hard Episcopalian, might possibly be saved. He was concerned, as he thought that Catholics believe that only Catholics can go to heaven.

"Who can and who can’t be saved" is a question most of us think about at some time or another. These days, according to the polls, most of us believe that we and just about everyone else will go to heaven. Hopefully these beliefs are an indication of trust in the love and goodness and mercy of God.

But then there’s St. Peter’s preaching in today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Peter said quite clearly that it is only in the name of Jesus that one can be saved. No ifs, ands, or buts. No loopholes or exceptions to the rule were suggested.

So what does this mean? Does this mean that the four-fifths of the human race who aren’t Christian have no hope of salvation whatsoever? Does this mean our Jewish neighbors go to hell?

For many people today, St. Peter’s claim that salvation is possible only through Jesus doesn’t sit very well. They think it doesn’t sound very fair, and they have a hard time thinking that a loving, compassionate God would hold people to such a standard. In any event, from their perspective, it shouldn’t really matter what religion a person practices anyway, because they’re all basically different but equal paths to the same god. As they see it, it makes no difference if you’re a Buddhist or a Hindu or if you simply think of yourself as a "spiritual person" who likes to meditate and do yoga. They’re essentially all one and the same.

Except that they aren’t. If you look at different religions or spiritual practices, you’ll encounter radically different notions about God, the human person, the importance of creation, and life after death. On the surface, most religions do have a sense that people are rewarded for virtue and held responsible for vice. But on closer inspection, it’s like comparing apples and oranges.

Yet even though different religions may have very different fundamental beliefs, is it still true what St. Peter said, that only in Jesus’ name can one be saved? It sounds so "politically incorrect!" What about good non-Christian people like Gandhi or the Dalai Lama? Is all their goodness for nothing? And what about people who have never had a chance to hear about Jesus? Is it really fair to say they can’t be saved?

As Catholics, we can say clearly and firmly that people of other religions, and those of no religion, might indeed be saved. We can’t say if any particular individual will or won’t be saved. That’s God’s call, not ours. We trust in his love and mercy, which is great. But we can believe in the possibility that any person might be saved- no exceptions. Like us, they’ll be judged by God on how they lived their lives. Everyone has a conscience; everyone has a God-given sense of what’s fundamentally right and wrong. And other religions often have, from our perspective, at least a partial grasp of the truth.

Nevertheless, this is not to say that people of other religions are saved because of their religion. The salvation of any human being- regardless of their beliefs- is possible ONLY through the death and resurrection of the only Son of God, Jesus the Christ. The price Jesus paid for sin encompasses all of humanity: past, present, and future. This makes it possible for anyone to be saved. But only, as St. Peter insisted, "in the name of Jesus."

But…if people of other religions and no religion have the possibility of salvation, what’s so special about being a Christian? Many reason, but two in particular: Truth, and Grace. Truth, because Jesus revealed to us the fullness of truth- and truth matters, to put it bluntly. Other religions may have elements of the truth- thanks to God- but these elements are meant to be pointers to the entire truth of the gospel. And then there’s grace. Non-Christian people may indeed be good people and do good things, because whether they know it or not, God has been nudging them to be that way. But they aren’t children of God in the same way we are. "Beloved," began today’s reading from I John, "see what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are."

Every person is made in God’s image and likeness. And everyone is deeply loved by God. God is love, and it’s impossible for him to do otherwise! But not everyone is a part of God’s family; not everyone can call him or herself a son or daughter of God. That only happens through baptism, in which we receive the grace of the Holy Spirit and are intimately joined to Jesus and each other as brothers and sisters in the Lord. That’s why Jesus, in today’s gospel, could say: "I know mine and mine know me, just as the Father knows me and I know the Father."

Jesus wants everyone to know him in this way. He wants them to love him because he loves them: as a good shepherd, who cares for them, who gave up his life for them, and who shares his life with them- just as he has done, and does, for us.

Jesus mentioned other sheep who have yet to hear his voice- those who do not yet know him as their shepherd. That was true in Jesus’ day, and it’s true in ours. That why the Church continues to evangelize, send missionaries around the globe, and encourage us to share the good news with those we know. Because even though we can believe that anyone may indeed be saved; it is our hope that everyone will come to know as savior the only good shepherd, Jesus our Lord.

Friday of Easter 3

Given that Saul was a notorious enemy of the earliest Christians, “Why are you persecuting them?” would have an understandable question for the risen Jesus to have asked him in today’s reading from Acts. However, the question Jesus asked instead was, “Why are you persecuting me?” Jesus identified himself as one and the same as his Church. It’s perhaps on account of this that Saul, in his writings as St. Paul the apostle, describes the Church as the “body of Christ.”

Jesus spoke of his body in today’s reading from John’s gospel. “He who feeds on my flesh and drinks my blood,” he proclaimed, “remains in me and I in him.”

Taken together, these readings from Acts and John present us with a great mystery: We who are the Body of Christ, the Church, are called to feed upon the Body of Christ, the Eucharist. Although something of a mystery, this also makes perfect sense. We need to be nourished by Jesus, so we can become more like Jesus. As St. Leo the Great once wrote, “The effect of our sharing in the Body of Christ is to change us into what we receive.”

Thursday of Easter 3

Before his conversion to Christianity, St. Augustine dismissed the Bible as crude and unsophisticated. Then one day an unseen child’s voice urged him to "Take up and read, take up and read." A Bible was nearby. He read it, his heart was set on fire, and soon thereafter he became a Catholic.

Sometimes we ignore the Scriptures as St. Augustine once did. Maybe we think it’s too hard to understand- like the Ethiopian in today’s reading from Acts. (Thankfully, he asked for help!) Or perhaps we dismiss the Scriptures as too out of date to really address our contemporary needs.

Today's gospel reading, however, reminds us　that God himself speaks to us through the Bible. When　speaking of　the bread of life,　Jesus was referring not just to the Eucharist. He was speaking also of his gift of the Word- his personal revelation of God that nourishes and sustains us on our journey of faith. We encounter this Word in Sacred Scripture- God’s Word in human words- written in the past, but with the power to change our lives today.

Catholic psychologist Robert Wicks explains that although the Scriptures are ancient, they speak of an eternal wisdom, radiating from a God who is ageless, and ever new. When we ignore Scripture, he says, our faith becomes rootless, God becomes vague, and we’ll feel lost in times of crisis. Or as St. Jerome said so bluntly: "Ignorance of the Scriptures, is ignorance of Christ."

Tuesday of Easter 2

The Dawn of the Dead

is a horror movie in which zombies shamble around, looking for human flesh to eat. In a bit of social satire, the film makers have the zombies gravitate toward those places where they’d found the most meaning in life. And where do the zombies end up? A shopping mall! The somber joke here is that many of us in our materialistic, consumerist society are like zombies, walking around half dead, because we seek satisfaction- seek life!- in things that ultimately fail to provide it. And so we end up hungry for that which can give meaning, and thirsting for real purpose and satisfaction.

Which brings us to today’s gospel. People hungry for truth and meaning came to Jesus, not exactly sure what they were looking for, and uncertain about what Jesus might be able to give them. To their surprise, Jesus offered them himself: "I am the bread of life," he said. "Whoever comes to me will never hunger; whoever believes in me will never thirst." By welcoming Jesus into their lives, and receiving him in the Eucharist they could really and truly live, and find the meaning, purpose, and direction that they sought after in the wilderness. And the same is true for us. "Sir," prayed the crowds, "give us this bread always!" Let that be our cry, as well.

Monday of Easter 3

“The business of America is business,” said President Calvin Coolidge in the 1920’s. And I think we can appreciate what he meant. We Americans work hard, and we like to make money.

However, today’s gospel has a message for us. We heard of people who came to Jesus seeking food. They wanted to fulfill their legitimate material, physical needs. And Jesus wants to meet these needs. That’s why, just the day before, he had fed these same people with loaves and fishes. But then he urged them, on this day, to look beyond the physical and the material. They should work for the food that only he can give.

We Americans need to hear these words. Because sometimes in our preoccupation with work, “the business of business,” we forget about what Jesus really wants us to work for; in our focus upon the material, we neglect the spiritual. The challenge for us is not to become so immersed with putting bread on the table, that we deprive ourselves of the bread of life.

Third Sunday of Easter

When she was seven, my eldest daughter showed me a picture she had drawn at school just before Easter. Jesus was on the cross, but was holding out an Easter egg. That’s a wonderful image of what we celebrate during Easter: That thanks to Jesus’ death on the cross and resurrection, we live in hope of everlasting life- a life symbolized by the Easter egg.

Eternal life is our hope. And we hope also that everyone will come to enjoy this hope, because there are those who don’t. I think of the final Harry Potter book in which Harry finds his parents’ graves in a church cemetery and is stunned when he reads the words on the tombstone. It read: "The last enemy to be destroyed is death." Harry didn’t know that those words came from the Bible, or that they referred to Jesus’ victory. In his confusion, he thought they sounded rather sinister. His friend Hermione had to set him straight: "It means…you know...living beyond death. Living after death."

On this score, Harry Potter represents many people in our society today: those who don’t really know of the Christian hope in eternal life, and those who simply dismiss it altogether. They just can’t buy into the thought that Jesus really rose from the dead and lives even now. They think that surely something else must have happened on that first Easter morning other than the resurrection of a man once dead.

And so they propose all sorts of other explanations: Maybe the disciples were hallucinating or, because of their grief, somehow convinced themselves that Jesus had returned to be with them. Or it could be that Jesus didn’t really die but only entered a coma and snapped out of it three days later. Perhaps the story of the resurrection was a lie the disciples made up because they were too ashamed to admit that the person they had followed for three years died a failure. Or possibly Jesus’ teaching had made such a powerful impact on his followers that they felt that Jesus was still with them, even when he really was dead.

Claims like these are nothing new. They began when the first reports of the resurrection circulated amongst Jesus’ followers. Even some of them feared that they were being fooled, or that maybe some of their friends had gone off their rockers. Recall Jesus’ words to his startled disciples in today’s gospel: "Why do questions arise in your hearts?" he asked. Then Jesus invited them to touch him, so they would know that they weren’t seeing things or having a dream. He made a point of saying that he had really died. And the disciples, were told, were utterly overjoyed.

"You are witnesses of these things," Jesus assured them. And that was Peter’s claim when he preached, as we heard in our first reading from Acts: "God raised him from the dead;" he insisted, "of this we are witnesses." It’s as if Peter were saying: "Jesus doesn’t simply live on in our hearts or through his teaching. We’re not making this up! Many of us have seen him, spoken with him, touched him. Why else would we be filled with such zeal? Why else would we be so overcome with joy? Why else would we put our lives and reputations on the line?"

Peter, the very first pope, was trying to convince a crowd of people that Jesus’ resurrection was real. The 246^th pope, Benedict XVI, is still doing the very same thing. On Easter day, before a crowd of 200,000, the Holy Father insisted that the resurrection "is neither a myth nor a dream, it is not a vision or a utopia, it is not a fairy tale, but it is a singular and unrepeatable event: Jesus of Nazareth, son of Mary, who at dusk on Friday was taken down and buried, has victoriously left the tomb."

The historical event of Jesus’ resurrection is the source of our Easter hope and joy, and we pray that more and more will come to share this with us. But do we fully understand it ourselves? Think back to today’s gospel. It was written, not just for those who doubted the resurrection, but also for those who may not appreciate its full significance. That’s why we’re specifically told that the risen Jesus ate a broiled fish in full view of everyone.

The point of this is to show that not only did Jesus rise from the dead, but that he did so in his body, and that it is our belief that the eternal life Jesus’ resurrection won for us will involve our bodies too. The same bodies we have now- only glorified and perfect. After all, God made us both body and soul, and that’s how he wants us to enjoy eternity with him.

Sometimes we dismiss this as unimportant: We say we believe in the "resurrection of the body," but don’t give it much thought. We think: As long as my soul "goes to heaven," who cares about my body? Or maybe we don’t like the idea at all. Perhaps our body has been a source of frustration and pain for us, and we don’t want to bother with it after this life.

If you feel this way, consider some of the things you may enjoy about Easter: The fresh scent of lilies; springtime warmth replacing winter chill; the song of birds, the strains of favorite hymns, or the shouts of children as they discover hidden eggs; the sight of the first rays of dawn or the glory of flowers in bloom; the taste of chocolate or jellybeans, or ham or lamb; the embrace of friends and family when we gather; how we look in that new hat or dress.

These are all good things, and we can only experience them with the bodies God has given us. They’re a big part of our Easter celebration today. And just a small hint of good things still to come.

Friday of Easter 2

Barley bread and little fish were a typical "workingman’s lunch" in Jesus’ day; they were a first century "po’ boy san’wich," if you will. Its mention into today’s gospel in a sign that the crowds who followed Jesus into the dangerous wilderness were poor, in addition to being hungry.

Parallels with the Eucharist are also in today’s gospel. It’s Passover time, as it was for the first Eucharist. The crowd’s reclining on the grass anticipates the disciples reclining at table in the Upper Room. Jesus’ taking loaves, giving thanks, and passing them on are the same as his actions at the Last Supper. And the gathering of fragments into baskets, according to ancient interpretation, implies the unity that the Eucharist signifies for the Church.

What the combination of inferences to the hungry poor and the Eucharist seems to be saying to us is this: We who feed on Jesus in the Eucharist are in turn to seek out and feed Jesus in the faces of the poor. Jesus commands us, just as he instructed his disciples: "You give them something to eat."

Thursday of Easter 2

If someone were to ask us, "How has God touched your life?" we would each have a different answer, because we all have a unique personal story to tell.

But even though our faith histories are all somewhat different, what God wants us to do with these experiences is one and the same: He wants us to share them for the benefit of others; He wants to touch other lives through our telling of how he has touched ours. To not share our stories would be a disservice to those people God may be trying to reach through us- and perhaps only us.

In sharing our stories, we follow in the footsteps of Jesus himself who, in the words of today’s gospel, "Testifies to what he has seen and heard" from the Father in heaven. We also follow the courageous example of the apostles, who in the first reading explained to those who wanted to put them to death that they were compelled to testify to the acts of God which they had witnessed.

Like them, we have a responsibility to share our stories, out of love for others, and for the glory of God. "My deepest vocation," wrote Fr. Henri Nouwen, "is to be a witness to the glimpses of God I have been allowed to catch."

Monday of Easter 2

When she was seven, my daughter drew a picture of Jesus. He was hanging on the cross- while holding out an Easter egg. I think her picture is a wonderful symbol of what we celebrate during the Easter season: that through the death of Jesus on the cross and his rising again to new life, Jesus offers us new life as well- a life symbolized by the egg.

In conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus in today’s gospel speaks of how we receive this new life: by being born again through water and the Spirit, in the sacrament of baptism.

One Easter Sunday, I said “Happy Anniversary” to a parishioner who had been baptized the year before. On reflection, however, it might have been more appropriate to have wished her “happy birthday”, because it was on Easter that she was born again.  Today, and all fifty days of the Easter season, are days on which we can all celebrate our birthdays, and give thanks and praise to God for his gift of new birth.

Second Sunday of Easter

Every so often someone will say to me something long the lines of "You know, if I had lived in Jesus’ day, and had heard him teach and had witnessed his miracles, it would be so easy to have faith; it would be impossible not to believe." Perhaps you’ve heard someone say something like this, or maybe you’ve said it or thought it yourself. In any event, the presumption underlying this kind of thinking is that "seeing is believing." Which is fine- because in life to see is indeed to believe. This was certainly the case for poor "Doubting Thomas," as he’s come to be known, who had to see the risen Christ in order to believe that he had truly risen from the dead.

However, it isn’t always possible for us to see what we’re called to believe in. This doesn’t mean, ‘though, that belief is impossible. Seeing may indeed be believing; but we don’t always need to see in order to believe. In fact, if you think about it, each one of us believes in all sorts of things without having seen them; we accept all sorts of things as real and true without having concrete, definitive proof. For instance, I believe that there is a city in Africa named Timbuktu, even though I have never been there myself to see that it really exists. The great St. Augustine once said that he had to "take it on faith" that the people who claimed to be his mother and father were indeed his mother and father! We do the same sort of thing all the time. Indeed, we have to. Because if we could rely on or accept only those things we could prove or personally experience, we could rely on very little.

This is certainly the case when it comes to the resurrection of Jesus our Lord. All of us are here to today to celebrate our belief that Jesus is risen. Yet none of us were there, early that first Easter morning, to peer inside the empty tomb and be greeted by angels; none of us were there that evening when the risen Lord appeared to his friends and wished them peace; and none of us were there, a week later, to be invited to place our hand in his side or touch the marks of the nails. No, we believe that Jesus is risen because we take it on faith; we profess it, we celebrate it, and we say "Amen" to the creed which enshrines it, but we cannot prove it. If we could prove it, perhaps many more people would be Christian today.

However, the fact remains that proof and faith are two very different things. We can prove things by observation, testing, and experience, but faith can only come as a gift. This was the lesson learned by a mathematics professor who was engaged to be married to a Catholic woman, and who desperately wanted to join the Church. A priest who he met with on a regular basis said that he had never seen anyone try harder to have faith. He never missed an appointment or a class, he devoured every book it was suggested he read, and he asked probing and tough questions. Nevertheless, the faith for which he so desperately sought, never seemed to come.

One day, however, it dawned upon the priest that the two of them were approaching faith as if it were a discipline, an academic course, a subject to be mastered, knowledge to be acquired. But faith, of course, is none of those things. Faith is a gift, and a gift that can only come from God. So the priest asked the man if he had prayed for faith, asking God to give it to him. The man confessed that he had not. But he agreed to pray to the God that he didn’t yet have faith in, and his prayer was answered. He received the faith he wanted so badly, and was baptized with joy.

But what about those of us who have faith? What about those of us who have already been given this gift? We need to be grateful, to be sure. But we also need to tend our faith; we need to cherish it, protect it, and nourish it. Faith can be neglected, and faith can be lost. Faith is a gift, but it’s a gift that calls for our free acceptance and response throughout our lives, and in every circumstance.

In one sense, faith never changes, because Jesus doesn’t change; he is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Yet it can also be said that our faith does change, because we are changing all the time. And when we change, our faith needs to change right along with us, if it to remain meaningful and relevant in our lives. Healthy faith grows and develops over time; it learns from experience; it adapts to changing conditions; and it goes through seasons- sometimes faith seems easy, vibrant, and real; at other times it can be a struggle, or be filled with confusion.

Because of this, we need to both guard our faith and provide for its growth. Today’s gospel suggests to us four ways to do this. First, we need to pray, just as Thomas prayed "My Lord and my God!" Second, we need to read Scripture because, as we heard, these things were written so that we might believe that Jesus is Lord. Third, we need to celebrate and receive the Eucharist, just as it’s implied the disciples were doing when the risen Jesus came to them. And fourth, we need to stay close to the Church because it was only when Thomas was in the presence of other believers that he finally came to faith.

The bottom line is: We can always see what it is we need to believe; but we may never believe, or we may cease to believe, unless we try.

Easter Friday

The fish is a Christian symbol that has become popular in recent years. However, the fish is a very ancient symbol. It arose from the fact that, in the Greek spoken in Jesus’ day, the first letters of the words "Jesus Christ, God’s Son, Savior" spell "ICHTHUS," which is Greek for "fish."

That the fish was an ancient symbol for Jesus can help us understand today’s gospel, in which risen Jesus, by the Sea of Tiberias, took fish and some bread, gave them to his disciples, and invited them to eat. These details intentionally remind us of an earlier time when Jesus, again by the Sea of Tiberias, fed a vast crowd by multiplying a small handful of loaves and fishes.

After feeding them, Jesus taught the crowd that it is necessary to receive his body and blood in the Eucharist. Jesus’ meal of bread and fish in today’s gospel also speaks of the Eucharist. In a subtle way, we learn that the risen Jesus- symbolized by a fish and the bread- feeds us with himself at every Eucharist. He invites us, just as he invited his disciples, "Come, and eat your meal."

Easter Thursday

"Peace be with you" are words we share at Mass. However, this is not just a specifically Catholic form of greeting, and it’s more than a simple expression of best wishes. Instead, this peace is a real gift- a gift that only Jesus can give. In today’s gospel, Jesus gave this peace to his friends when he appeared to them on Easter. Jesus extends this same peace to us at Mass, and invites us to share it with each other.

When Jesus offered his peace to his friends, the wounds of his Passion- the marks of the nails in his hands and feet- were plainly visible for all to see. We know, therefore, that a life touched by his peace is not necessarily free from conflict and pain.

Instead, we might best understand this peace as the peace of heart, and the peace of mind, that comes with the assurance that Jesus is always present with us. It’s the peace of knowing that in the midst of life’s ups and downs, the risen Lord is always at our side- offering us consolation, guidance, and challenge; instilling gratitude, joy, and wisdom; filling us with faith, hope, and charity; calling us to conversion and forgiveness; and strengthening us to carry our cross. With this peace comes an assurance that the Lord will always provide, that his love will never fail, and that the risen life he promises us, will never come to an end.

Easter Wednesday

One Easter, I saw many long and gloomy faces at Mass. "I want to remind you that it’s Easter Sunday," I announced, "so it’s okay to smile in church!"

There were long faces on Easter in today’s gospel too. When the risen Jesus asked two disciples what they were talking about, "They stopped, looking downcast."

But let’s not forget what happened next. After they recognized Jesus in the breaking of the bread, the two disciples ran to tell their friends. The risen Jesus had replaced their sadness with joy!

Jesus’ resurrection should also fill us with joy. As St. Augustine wrote, "A Christian should be an ‘alleluia’ from head to foot!" It’s for good reason that in the Opening Prayer for today’s Mass we thanked God for the joy of the resurrection, and asked that the joy of our celebration might bring us the joy of eternal life.

Easter joy doesn’t mean that we ignore life’s real difficulties and problems. But it does mean that we confront them with the assurance that if our God loves us so much that he died and rose for us, then surely he will lead us through our present troubles into his everlasting peace. Mother Teresa once put it very well. "Never let anything cause you so much sorrow," she said, "that you forget the joy of Jesus risen."

Easter Monday

Ever hear of a "Come to Jesus" meeting? That’s how some refer to summons from a superior when they know they’re in trouble. It’s something to be dreaded.

Perhaps the disciples felt dread when the two Marys told them that the risen Jesus would meet them in Galilee. After all, most of them had abandoned him in his hour of need. One had denied him. And it wasn’t they who came to his tomb on Easter morning. It was the women. In light of all this, maybe they feared some sort of punishment from Jesus- a tongue-lashing, a dressing-down, or worse.

We too can dread coming before Jesus when we feel guilty about something. We imagine that he’ll shame us or even reject us. But that’s not the case at all, and today’s gospel gives us a hint of what to expect. In speaking to the two Marys, he calls his disciples "brothers." He makes no threats. They’re family, he loves them, and he very much wants to see them.

We’re Jesus’ family too. He loves us, and he wants to see is. He will call us to a "Come to Jesus" meeting! Not to make us shake in fear! But so we can share his resurrection joy.

Easter Sunday

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” We’re all familiar with that expression, and it’s generally good advice. But of course things do break, and that presents us with a choice: We can either throw the broken thing away, or we can fix it.

            When making our decision, we usually ask ourselves: “Is it worth fixing?” We have to do a “cost-benefit” analysis. If it’s not worth fixing, we toss it. But if it is, usually the best we can hope for is that after it’s fixed, it will be pretty much like it used to be. But that’s often not possible. Usually, when we fix something, we have to accept that it’s never going to be quite the same. It’s going to be a little bit weaker; a little less attractive; a little less valuable.

            Think about a car that’s been in an accident. We call the insurance company, and a claims adjustor looks it over. He or she will either declare it “totaled”- a complete loss not worth fixing. Or, the decision will be made to repair it. But after the work’s done, the car’s value will be less. Anyone who would buy it would see that accident on the Carfax report, and lower their best offer by hundreds or thousands.

            Be it a car or whatever, we never expect that something that’s been fixed is going to better than it was before it was broken. Yet that is exactly what has happened for us, thanks to what God has done in the death and resurrection of his Son- what we are celebrating on this Easter morning.

            Our Easter celebration actually began last night, at the Easter Vigil. In darkness broken only by the dim glow of the newly-lit Easter Candle, a beautiful and ancient hymn called the Exsultet was sung. This hymn includes one rather curious line which exclaims: “O happy fault! O necessary sin of Adam, which gained for us so great a Redeemer!”

            It’s not typical for us to use the word “happy” in reference to sin, because there’s nothing happy about it. Sin hurts: It hurts us, it hurts others, and it strains, and sometimes even breaks, our relationship with God. There’s was especially nothing happy about Adam’s original sin. It led to the fall. It led to death. Original innocence was lost. Human nature was broken.

            What’s “happy” about Adam’s sin was not the unhappy event itself, but what God did in response to it. He saw that his children, created in his image and likeness, were broken. And in his love for us, he didn’t throw us away. We’re much too precious to him. Instead, God decided to “fix” us; or to use the language of our faith, he decided to “save” us.

            That, in and of itself, should be enough to make us overflow with joy and gratitude on this day; it’s more than enough justification for all the Easter “Alleluias” we shout and sing. But what’s even more remarkable, it that when God acted to fix us, he made it possible for us to be even better than before we were broken in the first place.

            The Bible’s stories of creation speak of Adam and Eve as sharing a wonderful friendship with God. They enjoyed harmony with Him, with each other, and indeed with all of creation. Theologically speaking, this was a state of “original holiness and justice.” Sometimes we refer to it as “paradise.”

            Sin, of course, ruined all this. It made us a broken people; it soured our friendship with God. But Jesus’ death and resurrection fixed it. It makes possible the forgiveness of our sins and offers the hope of eternal life. Traditional Christian language refers to this as the “Atonement.” If we break this word into thirds, we get “At-One-Ment.” Through Jesus’ death and resurrection, it’s possible for us to be “one” with God.

            But what does it mean to be “one” with God? It does mean that the brokenness caused by sin has been fixed, to be sure. But being “one” with God means more than that. It means that you and I can be like God. What we were created for is great indeed; what we have been saved for is even better. According to the Catechism, our first ancestors were created “in a state that would be surpassed only by the glory of the new creation in Christ.” And that glory is that we can share God’s very nature; through the sacraments, especially Baptism and Eucharist, we participate in God’s own life and love, and hope to share it perfectly for all eternity. God in Christ assumed our humanity so we could share his divinity. Or as St. Irenaeus wrote some eighteen centuries ago, “The Son of God became man so that we might become God.” We have been fixed all right; but now we can hope to be far better than we ever were before.

            Sound like a fluffy, pious dream? Think of relationships you’ve been in or known of that have been broken somehow, perhaps because of a hurt or misunderstanding, or through a crisis or a betrayal. For some people, such challenges might be a “deal-breaker.” But in others, they can actually lead to an improved, more intimate relationship. The “elephant in the room” finally gets discussed and resolved; sorrow is expressed and forgiveness is shared; shattered trust is rebuilt and strengthened. There’s pain and heartbreak, to be sure. But it’s followed by relief, healing, and hope. It’s almost like the relationship had to die so it could rise up to a new, better life.

            The new, better life Jesus won for us is what we celebrate today. Think of it with every new flower or blossom you see; be reminded of it with every egg and fuzzy yellow chick; taste it when you receive the Body and Blood of Christ on your lips. And let the thought of it fill your heart with joy, this day, and always.

Good Friday

How much is one human life worth? The head of our government’s compensation fund for 9/11 victims, Kenneth Feinburg, had to wrestle with that question over 1,500 times. In his book, appropriately titled What is Life Worth?,, Feinburg shares his agonizing struggle in trying to ensure that victims’ survivors received a fair compensation for their loss. The average victim’s family received $2 million dollars. But not everyone received the same amount. For instance, the amount awarded for stockbrokers was higher that that awarded to military families, because stockbrokers’ annual salaries were higher. But some military families complained, saying that their relatives would have left the military soon and taken higher-paying civilian jobs. Feinburg also heard from people whose relatives had died when the Oklahoma City federal building was bombed. But those families received nothing, as Feinburg’s government mandate restricted the fund to 9/11 victims. Feinburg ultimately concluded that the whole process was unfair. He wrote: "Don’t ask one person to act like Solomon and try to calculate the value of lives. To be judge, jury, accountant, lawyer, rabbi, et cetera, is very, very difficult."

Just what is one life worth? That’s a good question for us to ponder today. Perhaps a person’s value is his or her net worth of assets. Yet this would mean that Donald Trump is far more valuable than Mother Teresa of Calcutta. As Catholics, would we agree with that assessment? Our faith tradition holds in high esteem those men and women who have taken voluntary vows of poverty. But if the value of their lives were based soley upon what they possessed in this world, they would be worth very little indeed.

The truth is that at our most basic, physical level, we are worth very little. The combined value of all of the chemicals and minerals found in a typical human body, 96% of which is Oxygen, Carbon, Hydrogen, and Nitrogen, is less than one, single U.S. Dollar. One dollar is pocket change to most of us; it won’t even buy a small cup of coffee at McDonald’s. Contrast that with the price of an ounce of gold, which recently topped $1000. An ounce of gold is about the size of a matchbook, and can fit comfortably in the palm of our hand. But is it worth more than we are? Maybe on the commodities market. But not in the eyes of God. If you and I want to know what we are worth to God, all we need to do is listen carefully to today’s Passion gospel, and reflect on what is recalled in this solemn liturgy.

We are reminded today that God considers us to be so valuable, that his only Son surrendered his own life, so that we might live forever. If God thought that we were cheap, expendable, or dime-a-dozen, would he have bothered? How much effort do we make to save or protect that which we think has no value? Not much. We’re generally happy to throw it away, or write it off as a loss. But God, through the suffering and death of Jesus, has shown us clearly how much our lives are worth to him. As Pope Benedict has written: "Man is worth so much to God that he himself became man in order to suffer with man…as is revealed to us in the account of Jesus’ Passion."

Can we put a dollar amount on how much we’re worth to God? If we were to try, we’d have to put a price on Jesus’ life, since he gave his life for ours. Judas Iscariot, when he betrayed our Lord, received 30 silver pieces for Jesus’ life. But this amount was an intentional insult, as it represented the fine to be paid a slave owner by anyone who injured his slave. Nicodemus, I think, was closer to the mark. We heard how he anointed Jesus’ dead body with over a hundred pounds of costly spices, an extravagant amount fit only for a king. Yet even this, of course, comes nowhere near to representing the true value of Jesus’ life. It would be absurd, and even obscene, to try to place a monetary value on Jesus’ life. It’s much better, and far more accurate, to say simply that Jesus’ life was priceless. And if Jesus’ life is priceless, then, in a sense, the same is true of ours.

In God’s eyes, we are indeed priceless. Nevertheless, God did pay a very specific price for us. More specifically, he paid the price of our sins. Like our lives, we can’t really attach a dollar value to our sins. But that doesn’t mean that our sins aren’t costly, because they are. Sin hurts our neighbors, our families, our enemies. Sin hurts us, as it keeps us from being the people God wants us to be. And sin harms our relationship with God. We might say that our sins have bankrupted us. Bankruptcy, of course, means that we owe more than we are able to pay. In terms of our sins, bankruptcy means that there’s nothing we can do to truly make up for all the harm our sin has done. Jesus had to do it for us. He is the one who satisfied our debt; he is the one who paid the price. And the price he paid was the cross.

In just a matter of minutes, we will venerate the cross of Jesus. We will bow before it, praise Christ for it, adore it as it’s lifted on high, and many of us, after the liturgy, will remain behind to reverence it with a kiss. We will do this because the cross shows us how precious we are in God’s sight; it shows us, more than anything else could, how much we are valued, and loved, by God. We may not be able to place a dollar value on our lives. But because of the cross, because of this "Good Friday," you and I know exactly what our lives are worth.

Wednesday in Holy Week

What was it that motivated Judas to betray Jesus? Was he trying to force Jesus to display his divine powers against his enemies? Maybe he was resentful that he hadn’t been chosen as leader of the apostles. Or perhaps he was simply malicious and greedy. We just don’t know.

What we do know is that, when all was said and done, Judas was overwhelmed by bitter regret. He tried to return his blood money, and ended his life in suicide.

Suicide is always a tragedy. But the greater tragedy here is that Judas had lost hope. In his despair, Judas lost hope in receiving mercy from the one whose entire life conveyed hope and mercy. We can say with absolute confidence that if Judas has run to the foot of the cross and begged forgiveness, he would have received it.

In a way, Judas represents the state of many people today- people who live lives of quiet despair, shame, and fear, because they believe themselves to be unlovable and unforgivable in the eyes of God.

But such fear is a self-inflicted wound. The good news of Holy week is that no one should despair of God’s mercy and forgiveness. Not Judas Iscariot. Not you or me.

Tuesday in Holy Week

"Neither snow nor rain nor gloom of night," tradition claims, will keep mail carriers from completing their rounds. To complete his mission of redemption and salvation, Jesus had to contend with much worse than that. Darkness, denial, ignorance, betrayal, cowardice, and the demonic all confronted Jesus at the Last Supper, on the eve of his passion. Yet Jesus pressed on, in spite of it all, demonstrating that his love for us, and his desire to save us, will never fail.

Jesus’ love is resolute. He would never force himself upon us, but he doesn’t keep a polite distance either. Instead, he keeps knocking at the door of our hearts. Sometimes we open our hearts to him on our own, and welcome him in. At other times, we need his help. Maybe our hearts are frozen, and Jesus needs to melt them; it could be that our hearts are broken, and Jesus needs to mend them; perhaps our hearts are made of stone, and they need replacing with Jesus’ own, sacred heart.

Regardless of the state of our heart, Jesus persists in his efforts to open its door, not to assert his power, but to share his love. Nothing will stop him! Not even death itself.

Monday of Holy Week

Mary and Martha were close friends of Jesus. He once raised their brother Lazarus from the dead! Another time, during a meal together, Martha complained that Mary sat listening to Jesus speak while she was busy serving. Jesus had to gently explain to her that, on this occasion, Mary had made the better choice. Today’s gospel finds Martha serving once again, while Mary worships Jesus by anointing his feet with oil.

We who also wish to be friends of Jesus should look closely at Mary and Martha’s example. Martha shows us that friends of Jesus are servants. They serve their Lord, each other, and especially the needy and poor. Mary reminds us of the importance of prayer and worship. You and I would do well to combine the virtues of Mary and Martha, by finding a balance between prayer, worship, and service.

Prayer and worship without service can become hollow flattery. Service without prayer and worship can become misguided, self-serving, or lead to burn out. Just consider Mother Teresa. Without question, she was one of God’s great servants. But how did she do it? "My secret is simple," she said, "I pray."