Category Archives: Easter

Monday of the 4th Week of Eastertide
Acts 11:1-18 | Psalm 41(42):2-3,42:3-4 | John 10:11-18

The hired man, since he is not the shepherd
and the sheep do not belong to him,
abandons the sheep and runs away
as soon as he sees a wolf coming,
and then the wolf attacks and scatters the sheep;
this is because he is only a hired man
and has no concern for the sheep. (John 10:12-13)

I had a revelation yesterday: I love my parish deeply, and all who serve in it.

Even though it’s technically not my parish.

Even though there are those in my own choir who frustrate me deeply, staring off into the distance or down into their scores, or otherwise distracting themselves, while I’m trying to get everyone to sing as one.

Even though those close to me have urged me repeatedly to distance myself mentally and spiritually from who have no interest in following,

to not get involved in matters that could bury me in excruciating and unappreciated effort,

to avoid further agony from the internal struggles I’ve written about several times already.

And especially since we’ve elected new choir leaders and a new liturgical committee. I have, as I’ve pointed out to many folks already, no further obligation or standing.

But none of that matters, when I see, hear, and feel the spirit of my parish, the spirit of the “old guard” with whom I’ve served for decades, crying aloud in the pangs of needed but too-rapid change.

None of that matters, when I’m already neck-deep in counselling moderation, discussing alternatives, advocating new points of view.

None of that matters, when I’m compelled by some unseen force to sit in on the next LitComm meeting, despite my lack of official status, just to be in a position to listen, to process, and perhaps to quietly suggest a moderate path.

None of that matters, because I am not a hired man.

I’ve already proven myself over the years to be full of love but a terrible shepherd. I’m still motivated to keep working on that shepherd bit, even though part of me fears that it may be a futile effort.

Because I love my parish deeply, and all who serve in it.

I don’t know why, but that’s OK.

WARNING: LANGUAGE AHEAD, PARDON BEGGED.

Cold logic is telling me I’m so screwed, that emotional involvement generally ends badly, but love is telling cold logic to go screw itself.

In any case, whether I’m royally screwed or only gently so, it’s a pleasure to be screwed in the service of others. As St. Peter reminded us in yesterday’s liturgy:

The merit, in the sight of God, is in bearing punishment patiently when you are punished after doing your duty. (1 Peter 2:20)

Oh, such sweet, sweet agony.

Lord, You commanded me to stop running away, and I have done so.
If it is Your will that I should help others through their problems out of love, with neither authority nor request, and though loved ones may call me fool, then Your will be done.
For Yours is the Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, now and forever.

Amen.

4th Sunday of Easter (Year A)
Acts 2:14,36-41 | Psalm 22(23) | 1 Peter 2:20-25 | John 10:1-10

I tell you most solemnly,
I am the gate of the sheepfold. (John 10:7)

As I read, then re-read the above passage and everything after it, it occurred to me that I’d been interpreting it incorrectly all this time, as I imagine many other folks have done before me.

You see, this being Good Shepherd Sunday, I’d always mentally substituted “shepherd” for “gate”, as it just seemed to make more sense. It’s only now that I realize that Jesus really meant to describe himself as the gate through which the shepherds must pass to reach the sheep.

To be more precise, Jesus is the gatekeeper, the “quality assurer” of a sort, ensuring that those who would lead us as shepherds, our priests, are prepared in His character, to dedicate themselves in self-sacrifice to our spiritual well-being, to be in unceasing communion with God, and to find and guide us through the narrow door of faith onto the path of Life.

In a way, I think Jesus is also reminding us that we too should be prepared in His character as Catholics, to sacrifice our cushy comforts for the sake of our disadvantaged brethren, to invert our daily preoccupation in favor of God, and to take others by the loving hand and walk together through the narrow door of faith, and onto the path of Life.

It’s certainly not easy, and our human weaknesses will make us and even our clergy stumble and fall in our daily journey, but with humility and abandonment to Christ, His love will surely prevail in the end.

And all those temptations and other nasty stuff trying to sneak through our gate of faith? Over time, we’ll learn to tell them to take a hike.

Let’s make our heavenly Gatekeeper proud. Amen.

Saturday of the 3rd Week of Eastertide
Acts 9:31-42 | Psalm 115(116):12-17 | John 6:60-69

‘But there are some of you who do not believe. […] This is why I told you that no one could come to me unless the Father allows him.’ After this, many of his disciples left him and stopped going with him. (John 6:64-66)

Last night, I spent my first Holy Hour in years with the Lord. It was an exceedingly contemplative experience, with Fr. Richards leading us in pondering, via Luke’s recounting of the Annunciation and Visitation, of how our faith progresses…

from doubt (“that’s not possible!”)

to wonder (“that’s a miracle!“)

to belief (“it is the Lord, for whom all things are possible”)…

and how many Catholics end up stuck at “wonder”, marveling at all the Marian apparitions and Eucharistic miracles, but not actually taking them to heart and letting them change their lives to be closer to Christ.

It reminded me of our Eucharistic celebration this past Sunday, when he switched to the Apostles’ Creed and caught everyone off guard. Only a few of us were able to recite the words by heart, while the AV folks scrambled to put up the text on-screen for everyone else.

And yet, there was no satisfaction of remembering the Creed I pray every day as part of the rosary, only a searching question: “What, exactly, do I believe? When will the words take on real meaning for me?”

I think the painful truth for most of us is that we state the Creed like our national pledge, rather than profess our faith with both mind and heart. We say “I believe in one God,” until someone asks “what do you mean by that?” and gets instantly rebuffed with “talk to Father, he can explain better than I can” (because I can’t explain it at all).

We can do better than that, brothers and sisters. We must do better than that, for to be a true child of God, we must be able to speak the Truth.

And I think it starts with committing ourselves wholeheartedly to learning more about what we claim to believe. Progressing from doubt, to wonder, to belief, is worth setting aside sensual pastimes like TV and movies, online games and idle online chats.

And, of course, knowing must lead to doing, experiencing that faith in our loving interactions with others in our daily lives…especially those who continually give us grief.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

One lady broke down last night, sobbing loudly when we sang the Divine Praises at the end of the Hour, as she witnessed the Blessed Sacrament being moved to repose in the tabernacle.

As for me, when the monstrance was swung in my direction, the shifting patterns of light dancing across its rays, contrasting with the constant purity of the host within, took my breath away for a moment, and sent a shiver down my spine.

Perhaps, when God sent me the double sign of Jonah, he really meant “stop running away and spend more time with Me!”

Now that’s a message that I can have faith in.

Lord, I’m glad I came to You as You called me to. Help me to make You the center of my life, not in idle word, but in committed deed. Amen.

Friday of the 3rd Week of Eastertide
Acts 9:1-20 | Psalm 116(117) | John 6:52-59

He who eats my flesh and drinks my blood
lives in me
and I live in him. (John 6:56)

Last night, I was introduced to a rather odd food item.

A post shared by Yujia Hu ?????? (@theonigiriart) on Apr 29, 2017 at 5:50pm PDT

Shoe-shi! A tasty work of art painstakingly crafted to be a single mouthful.

And it’ll give us life…for about 30 seconds, then it’s all over but the Instagram “food porn” posts.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

In contrast, the bread that we share at each Eucharistic celebration looks and tastes pretty bland.

But eat it, while mindful of the sacrificial love poured out for us from the Cross, and we’ll be taking Christ into ourselves, where He will counsel and guide and propel us through the days to come.

Oh, and this mouthful will give us life eternal…just not on this earth.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Since the beginning of the year, I’ve been cooking simple meals for myself at least four times a week, mostly vegetarian noodle soups with the occasional tuna or minced pork thrown in for additional protein. I feel a lightness of being after consuming such meals, especially when compared to the meat-heavy dishes I used to eat regularly. My mood lifts, my mind focuses, and my body just works better.

Consuming Christ also gives me that “fills me up, doesn’t weigh me down” sensation, even though the small wafer is about 1% of even my lightest meal. It’s almost as if the host sublimates into a ethereal Spirit that floods my body; I don’t feel the wheat as it slides down my throat, just the warmth of Jesus lifting my spirit with an unquenchable love.

I suspect I’ll encounter that same feeling in spades tonight, when I return to Holy Hour for the first time in years.

Lord, thank You for coming to me, and abiding in me. Let me never take Your presence, Your counsel, Your direction, for granted. Amen.

Thursday of the 3rd Week of Eastertide
Acts 8:26-40 | Psalm 65(66):8-9,16-17,20 | John 6:44-51

When Philip ran up, he heard [the eunuch] reading Isaiah the prophet and asked, ‘Do you understand what you are reading?’
‘How can I’ he replied ‘unless I have someone to guide me?’ So he invited Philip to get in and sit by his side. (Acts 8:30-31)

I’M NOT STUPID!

That exclamation briefly jarred me out of my daily rosary on the train yesterday. It was yelled by a young student who was evidently being teased by his friends around him.

As the group ran out of the train at the next stop, a sudden thought hit me:

Do I understand what I’m praying?

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Consubstantiation. Incarnation. Resurrection.

These are just three of the mysteries we profess to believe in both the Nicene and Apostles’ Creeds. Do we have any hope of truly understanding them, of being able to explain the how of it all?

Not in our lifetimes, and perhaps not even in the life to come, when we finally see God face to face.

Sometimes, it’s enough to make us think ourselves stupid.

We can, however, gain some small measure of wisdom in faith, by immersing ourselves with wondrous pondering in the twin pools of sacred Scripture and holy Tradition.

But a solo journey in faith is a dangerous one, filled with the potential for detours into mindless mysticism (“Christ is really in the host? wah, like magic, man!”), pernicious pride (“hah! I know more than any of my ministry’s members! I must educate them!”), and a fatal fall into despair (“this doesn’t make any sense! why am I wasting my time with all this Catholic mumbo-jumbo?”).

By journeying with others at Catholic seminars, and sharing our thoughts about the readings of the day, we help each other see more clearly the path that is Life, the path that our ancestors in faith have followed, the path which we too are called to tread.

By infusing love in our daily interactions with others, and thereby consciously practise what we preach, we give life to the word of God that we hear and read, give life to the less fortunate among us, and give life especially to ourselves in our darker moments.

And at regular Eucharistic communion with our brothers and sisters in faith, we can bolster our common commitment to the Way, Truth and Life, confident that no matter what trials and tribulations await each of us, we need never walk alone, for we are no longer strangers to each other.

✞ ✞ ✞ ✞ ✞

Brothers and sisters, if you have any appropriate reflections on what you just read, please do share them in the comments. Like Philip and the eunuch, we travel best on the road of faith…when we travel together.

Amen.