Reflection for the 3rd Sunday of Easter, The Road to Emmaus

This Sunday we hear Luke’s beautiful post-resurrection account of the Road to Emmaus. Two of Jesus’ disciples, despondent over his execution and puzzled by rumors of his resurrection are joined in their journey by a stranger who begins to interpret from scripture and unfold for them the reasons of why the Christ had to die. The two disciples were so taken by him, they invite him to dinner. When he takes the bread and blesses it, they recognize him for who he really is, upon which Jesus disappears. They never do reach Emmaus. Instead, they go immediately back to Jerusalem to spread the good news that Jesus has risen. Note, that it is at a common meal that Jesus reveals himself to them. While the Mass is the common way that we, as Catholic Christians, ritually encounter the risen Lord, how often do we encounter the risen Lord around our common table at home? It is at our home meals, eucharist with a small “e”, that we encounter the Jesus of Emmaus. The Jesus that is immanent, that is immediately present to us. There is a wonderful 1938 movie directed by Frank Capra, and written by George Kaufman and Moss Hart entitled, “You Can’t Take It With You,” that illustrates the home “eucharist” so well. Mealtime in this home of an eclectic family, boarders, and friends is the time around which the important elements of the film happen. Their common meals are humorous, poignant and sacred. They come to the table to break bread with one another and it is from that meal that they go forth to pursue the important things of their lives. So much revolves around that common meal that it is no surprise that the great conclusion of the film is with the family once more gathered around the table for a meal. Do we make the time to sit down for a common meal, once a day, once a week, once every two weeks, once a month? Do we make Jesus a welcome guest at our home meals? It is from the common meal we share at home that Jesus is present in the preparation of the food, in the food that we “break and share” with one another, in the stories that are told around the table, and in the clearing of the table, the storing of leftovers, and the cleaning of cups, dishes and utensils. As in the movie, it is at the meals that we celebrate at home in which the important action of our family lives happen. It is from this common meal that we find not only the nourishment to live, but the strength to carry on the important work of our lives. As important as it is to celebrate the presence of Jesus in the breaking of the bread at Mass, it is equally important to celebrate the presence of Jesus in the breaking of the bread at home.

Poem - "Lily" by Margaret D. Smith

Lily

A lily shivered
at His passing,
supposing Him to be
the Gardner

Margaret D. Smith

from A Widening Light: Poems of the Incarnation,
Luci Shaw, editor, (c) 1984
Regent College Publishing
5800 University Boulevard,
British Columbia, Canada
  

Poem - "Mary" by Elizabeth Rooney

Mary

The Love I love
Came in the early dawning
Standing as still as light.

How could I ever have dreamed
So sweet a morning
After so dark a night?

Elizabeth Rooney

from A Widening Light:Poems of the Incarnation
Luci Shaw, editor, (c) 1984, Regent College Publishing,
5800 University Boulevard,
Vancouver, British Columbia , Canada

Poem - The Servant-Girl at Emmaus (A Painting by Velazquez) by Denise Levertov

The Servant-Girl at Emmaus (A Painting by Velazquez)

She listens, listens, holding

her breath. Surely that voice

is his – the one

who had looked at her, once, across the crowd,

as no one ever had looked?

Had seen her? had spoken as if to her?

Surely those hands were his,

taking the platter of bread from hers just now?

Hands he’d laid on the dying and made them well?

Surely that face - ?

The man they’d crucified for sedition and blasphemy.

The man whose body disappeared from its tomb.

The man it was rumored now some women had seen this morning,

                                                                                      alive?

Those who had brought this stranger home to their table

don’t recognize yet with whom they sit.

But she is in the kitchen, absently touching

                                                   the winejug she’s to take in,

a young Black servant intently listening.

swings round and sees

the light around him

and is sure.[1]

---

[1] ‘The Servnt-Girl at Emmaus.’ The painting is in the collection of Russborough House, County Wicklow, Ireland. Before it was cleaned, the subject was not apparent: only when the figures at table in a room behind her were revealed was her previously ambiguous expression clearly legible as acutely attentive.

To Believe Or To Not Believe: a reflection on the gospel for the 2nd Sunday of Easter

This gospel of John is used twice every Season of Easter. We hear it proclaimed on the 2^nd Sunday of Easter and on the Solemnity of Pentecost.  As the gospel for the 2^nd Sunday of Easter, the Sunday is commonly known as “Doubting Thomas Sunday”. For biblical exegetes, this gospel account is the Pentecost account in John’s gospel and marks the original ending of the gospel of John, with the other post-resurrection stories following, added on by other editors of the gospel. Over the years, I have heard more than one priest/bishop/cardinal use Jesus’ words, “Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained,” as the means by which to hammer home, as forcefully as the Roman soldiers hammered fast Jesus’ hands and feet, what they believe is the divinely given power of the Church hierarchy over the laity. For most folks and preachers, this passage is about the gift of faith expressed in Jesus’ words, “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.” As for me, only four words stand out as if they are illuminated by neon. They are the first four words spoken by the resurrected Jesus to his disciples, “Peace be with you.” These four words encapsulate the reason behind the Incarnation of Jesus, his growing up as a human being, his ministry of healing, hope, and love to a very broken humanity, his passion and death, and his resurrection. The reason of Jesus “to be” is to bestow upon a broken humanity that which it so sorely lacks, "Peace.” It is not about “power over relationships” that Church hierarchy loves to quote, for what Jesus extends to all of us is the “power with relationship” of the creator with the created, expressed in the mutual sharing of divine peace. The question that this gospel raises for me is not whether one believes in the risen Jesus, but whether one believes that the risen Jesus has the power to bestow upon us God’s peace.

The Passion of Jesus: A bulletin article for Palm/Passion Sunday, 2014

Back in 90’s, I had the incredible experience of going to a symposium on the Passion of Jesus, presented by the preeminent Catholic biblical scholar, Fr Raymond Brown. He had just completed a massive 2 volume set of books based on the four gospel passions of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John entitled The Death of the Christ, and over a period of 6 hours presented some of the content of that work with us. During the question and answer segment, one person asked as to which one of the last words of Jesus was the accurate one. In Matthew and Mark’s account, Jesus said, “My God, My God why have you abandoned me?” In Luke’s account, Jesus said, “Into your hands I commend my spirit.” And, in John’s account, Jesus said, “It is accomplished!” Fr Brown responded that it didn’t make any difference. He continued, “In my pastoral practice as a priest, I find that some people die in despair, as in Matthew and Mark’s account, some die in resignation, as in Luke’s account, and some die in triumph, as in John’s account. No matter in what form a person might die, despair, resignation, or triumph, Jesus has already died in that manner. Jesus is one with us.” Jesus took on the full of our humanity, one with us in birth, one with us in life, and one with us in death. As Jesus has a full share in all of our human experiences, in turn, he shares with us his resurrection. During this holiest of weeks in the liturgical year, in mind, body, and spirit, let us enter fully into this time when Jesus triumphed over death, and so may have a full share in his divinity.

Overwhelmed By Love: A Reflection on Holy Week, 2014.

Feeling overwhelmed is a common human experience. We often say “it never rains but it pours,”  to express being overwhelmed by the negative events that occur in our lives. So often, it seems that just as one appliance breaks down, the furnace quits, or the water heater leaks. It seems uncanny how so many negative events can all occur at, seemingly, the same time.

However, we can also be overwhelmed by the positive events in our lives. Graduations, an engagement, birthdays, weddings, the birth of a child can also be a catalyst for an onslaught of really positive events that can overwhelm us.  

 Can one be overwhelmed both negatively and positively at the same time? The answer is yes. Is not the painful experience of child labor, accompanied by the joy of receiving the new born child an example of being overwhelmed by both negative and positive events?   I have experienced being overwhelmed both negatively and positively. The  day after I had to have my artificial hip surgically removed because of a MRSA infection was a very low time in my life. Along with all the pain, nausea, and discomfort following the surgery, I knew that at least for the next 12 weeks, I would not have a hip. I was feeling pretty overwhelmed by this severe downturn in my life, when a male nurse’s aide walks into my hospital room with two paper grocery bags filled with cards. He set them down on the table next to my hospital bed and asked, “Just who are you? No one ever gets these many get well cards!” There were 300 cards packed in those two grocery bags. In the midst of being overwhelmed by the negative turn of events in my life, I was feeling overwhelmed by the kindness, and the care by all those who sent me cards.

 Holy Week is the one week where we as Christian disciples can feel overwhelmed by the horror of Jesus’ torture and execution, followed by the overwhelming joy of his resurrection from the dead. While hindsight is 20/20, within the horrible passion and death of Jesus inflicted by the hands of evil humans, exists the incredible love of Christ poured out for us in that same passion and death.

 I think this beautiful irony is expressed in the writings of the 14^th century anchoress, Julian of Norwich. In  Revelations of Divine Love, she writes,  “And all shall be well. And all shall be well. And all manner of things shall be well.” She wrote this as pestilence and war was destroying people all around her. She was able to see beyond the torture, the bloodshed of her time, and the torture and the awful pain that Jesus experienced, to see the great gift of God's grace that flows upon us continually. Jesus became totally and wholly one with us in suffering and death so much so, that he accompanies us in our suffering and in our death. We would never again be alone to suffer. We would never again be overwhelmed, alone, by death. Julian called this the “oneing.”

 The poet Denise Levertov in her poem, On a theme from Julian’s Chapter XX, wrote,

 The oneing, she saw, the oneing
with the Godhead opened Him utterly
to the pain of all minds, all bodies
sands of the sea,
of the desert-
from first beginning
to last day. The great wonder is
that the human cells of His flesh and bone
didn’t explode
when utmost Imagination rose
in that flood of knowledge. Unique
in agony, infinite strength, Incarnate,
empowered Him to endure
inside of history,
through those hours when He took Himself
the sum total of anguish and drank
even the lees of that cup:


… Every sorrow and desolation
He saw, and sorrowed in kinship.


Jesus during his passion and death, allowed himself to be overwhelmed by all the horrors of human experience from the beginning of time to the end of time. All the hurt, all the sadness, all the desolation, all violence, and all the darkness, so that he could be one with you and me in our sorrows and our hurts. This is the oneing of which Julian speaks, the oneing of Emmanuel, God with us, who took all of human tragedy and transformed it in his body so that we could be overwhelmed by grace.
During this week in which Jesus oned himself with our humanity, we, in turn, are oned with his Divinity, made one with the One who created us.


 Pope Francis has expressed it this way, “We look at the sky. There are many, many stars. But when the sun rises in the morning, the light is such that we can’t see the stars. God’s mercy is like that … A great light of love and tenderness. God forgives us, not with a decree, but with his love, healing the wounds of sin.”


May we celebrate the oneing of this Holy Week, when humanity is married to divinity, in an all consuming embrace of love. May we be overwhelmed by God’s love throughout this week.

Death into Life, bulletin article for April 5 and 6, 2014

Death into Life

Of all the losses we encounter in human life, the physical death of someone we love is the most profound loss. The death of a loved one utterly alters our lives. We are never the same. The comedian Woody Allen once accurately summed up the American’s experience of death when he said, “I’m not afraid of death. I just don’t want to be there when it happens.” American slang is filled with death images, like “killing an opponent” or “destroying a competitor.” Though death occupies much of our language, our popular television and movies, and digital games, we are so uncomfortable by death that we flee in great fear when we encounter it in real life. In the raising of Lazarus from the dead, Jesus restores life to his friend at a tremendous cost to himself. In resurrecting Lazarus, Jesus knows that his opponents will put into motion the plan that will end in his own crucifixion. So that Lazarus may live, Jesus gives Lazarus his life and takes upon himself Lazarus’ death.



Unlike many of us, Jesus does not run away from death, but boldly embraces death and in doing so transforms it. As Jesus tells Martha, ‘I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” St Paul will later write, “Death is swallowed up in victory. Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?” Death, for you and for me, is no longer the end of all things, but the beginning of all things. It is the gateway to eternal life.