I thank Cottonwood Center for the Arts for hosting my art show last evening. I am deeply grateful to those who attended the event. Over three hundred people viewed the original paintings. The issues of sexual abuse were seen last evening in the public square in light of faith. I look forward to May 23 when Cottonwood will host a parish reception from 2-4pm. I could have not imagined more last evening. Your comments and reflections around my art and “The Stations of the Cross in Atonement for Abuse and the Healing of All”…overwhelmed my heart.
I wonder how love will get us beyond COVID-19? We believe as Christians we will find a way. Love must patch up our weariness of being isolated. Love must become balm for those who have already lost jobs and healthcare and insurance. Love must open eyes to those who face treachery and misfortune. Love must present itself to us so that we can find a new way out of loss, illness and even death. We are well on our way.
Love is not an otherworldly potion. It is not a quick fix or illusive sanitizer. Love from this Easter season cracks open new ideas and heals the old wounds of racism, xenophobia and unkind judgments. Love is not going to get us to look backward as we were. Love is going to open new doors and allow us to put new plans into practice. Love is not emotion; love is a decision.
On this Sixth Sunday of Easter, Jesus prepares the disciples in John 15:9-17 for the gift of the Holy Spirit. On May 23, the Church celebrates Pentecost. The week leading up to that feast, the Church celebrates The Ascension of the Lord on May 16. Both of these liturgical feasts are not just sugar candy. They are the real meat and earthly delight to show us how to live in our world. Jesus prepares us for such grace by offering a word today about love.
Keeping the commandments is not about living all the rules without thought or insight. We do not slavishly live the Christian message without forethought or reflection. I think in particular this Easter season, we can’t just go back to all the ways we were living Christianity from the past. If we set up all the old structures, all the old programs, and all the old learning situations, there will be no LOVE in them. We have to learn how to put into practice in our day and time the real message of Easter. Love spurs us forth. Love provides hope for us here on earth.
I notice that many people who have survived COVID-19 need physical therapy in order to get back into the swing of things. Well, I think our institutions should plan for that as well. Our outreach programs will never be the same. We need to think differently. Our educational programs next autumn will not be status quo. Even our common prayer, our worship and our interior lives may all be different as we learn how to survive this virus.
Observing the laws of love that are imbedded in this gospel passage reveal to us that life is difficult and that our response to people must be made in love. I am not sure how love will change us, but if we keep our hearts in Him, Jesus will show us the way. All things are possible. All things have their day and their beauty. We cannot get stuck in old ways of doing things because we have always done them that way. I think this virus teaches us that we cannot control life to such a degree. Some people will not see that change has value, no matter how much we are confronted with this virus. Some people will dig in their heals and demand that life goes backwards. I just don’t think this is wise. It will get us nowhere; it will get us all the old answers.
So as we prepare the liturgies, the buildings, and the sanctuaries, and clean the restrooms and wear our masks, there will be things that are different from how we have experienced the church in the past. No matter how much life is different, we rely on the grace of the Holy Spirit in these days in which we will celebrate the end of the Easter season, the Ascension of Christ and the gift of Pentecost. This is where love is. This is where our faith meets life; this is where the rubber meets the road. Love is real in these Easter days.
It was not you who chose me, but I who chose you and appointed you to go and bear fruit that will remain so that whatever you ask the Father in my name he may give you. This I command: love one another.
I often hear people say they feel they do not belong. They feel isolated from family because of family disputes or conflicts or not feeling affirmed. They feel they are not part of the Church because of their past decisions. They feel the weight of other people’s disappointments and the fears others carry about family life. Feeling apart from loved ones is a very common experience. Feeling separated from God is healed in these Easter days of celebration, if we allow the grace of the gospels to take root in our fear.
John 15:1-8 reveals to us the words of Jesus, “Remain in me, as I remain in you.” Jesus says to us that he is the vine, and we are the branches. In other words, we belong in him and through him and because of him. The Easter season is a renewal of our baptism. The real meaning of Lent is to open our hearts so that Jesus’ love can continue to show us that we belong. In the waters of baptism, we take our place. This gospel shows us that we are united to Christ Jesus in his passion, death and resurrection.
Sometimes we may think that our sin cuts the branches of our belonging to Christ. We may think that our actions separate us from God, since we are left so alone. Jesus invites us to remain in him, so that we can bear much fruit. This fruit flows from Christ into our world. We are to imitate the foundation of our lives, that is, we are to live in compassion, forgiveness, and unity in our world. Christ’s life is manifest totally within every believer. We do not live with scarcity in Christ, but in absolute abundance of mercy, and hope for all people.
Jesus says, “If you remain in me and my words remain in you, ask for whatever you want, and it will be done for you.” This is an incredible invitation. For all we know we don’t always get what we are looking for in the world. However, if we remain centered and in love with Christ Jesus, we can find our true desires, our fundamental longings in him. There will be no room for our feelings of not belonging if we remain centered in Christ. He alone will show us how to love and how to live in our world.
The Easter season invites us into communion with Christ. Our hunger for life is ultimately a longing for faith, hope, and charity in Christ Jesus. I pray that the Easter season brings you joy and not despair, hope and not discouragement, love and not isolation. I also invite you to sit with all the reasons you may feel you do not belong, either to your family or in the community of faith. I pray that you may be healed of such division, because you are loved by God no matter where you have been in life or the consequences of your life decisions. God is always here to welcome, to forgive and to offer us peace.
The joy of Easter is not about candy and pastel bunnies. The joy of Easter is rooted in the cross of Christ Jesus that gives us life over death, hope over despair, peace well beyond the violence we claim in our hearts. Easter is the root system of faith, offering us a place of belonging and peace.
We all desire to be chased by God. We desire love beyond the scope of our experience, and the joy of heaven even in our sorrowful ways. We desire him even when we want to flee from his presence, even when we think he does not satisfy us. We desire the Shepherd we call Good.
Jesus Christ has been converted toward us, even in our stubbornness. He is already keen to our wayward ways and obstinate hearts. He longs for us. He desires me. He tends us whom he already holds in his arms. Imagine such a gift.
On this Good Shepherd Sunday, the Fourth Sunday of Easter, the Shepherd comes alive within our hearts. He is no longer a distant metaphor or an ancient image. He is the God who has come into the world to heal us, to forgive us, and to collect us into this loving circle. Grace is where I am, in his reach this day. Jesus Christ is the Shepherd we call Good.
Art Show Invitation: Fr. Ron would like to continue the conversation and healing of abuse by featuring his artwork from “The Stations of the Cross in Atonement for Abuse and the Healing of All” by Liturgical Press as an exhibit at Cottonwood Center for the Arts, 427 E. Colorado Ave., May 7 — May 29. The opening will be Friday, May 7 from 5-8 pm. There will be a Special Reception in honor of Sacred Heart Parishioners on Sunday, May 23 from 2- 4 pm featuring John Kyler, the editor of the new Liturgical Press Stations of the Cross. Mr. Kyler will join Fr. Ron who will lead a discussion on the book and the creation of the art. The exhibit is free. All are welcome
In John 10: 11-18, we listen to Jesus say, “I am the good shepherd.” On the Fourth Sundays of Easter in every liturgical cycle, the images of Jesus as Shepherd or Gatekeeper are proclaimed in the Mass. This weekend is so often used as a time to speak about our vocations of priesthood and service in the Easter Season. Jesus, a guide, reveals to us our longing to remain in his love, in the hope that our lives will secure the Kingdom while we are still on earth.
These images of Jesus within the Easter Season reveal to us that Jesus leads us with tenderness. He invites, not shuns. He gathers, not separates. He loves, not detests. He encourages, not divides. He harmonizes, not condemns. These images of shepherd are foreign to many of us. We certainly are not dumb animals. These ancient images try to get at an action of Jesus to gather his people into unity and harmony. We belong to him. He desires us.
So often this image eludes us. We may dismiss this image as pietistic and old fashioned. However, for me this yearly Fourth Sunday of Easter, reveals the tenderness of God, the hope that we shall one day be one in Him. If we listen careful to the Shepherd, we will first understand that we are welcome within his life. In Easter, we celebrate the redemption of people. Yes, we belong in his presence.
The shepherd lays down his life for the flock. Being a shepherd is hard work, it is not the cozy, fluffy image of a clean sheep on the shoulders of Jesus perfectly clean. Caring for the sheep is dirty, difficult exertion. He cares for us which is no easy task either. He claims us as we are, he runs to carry us away from harm and hopelessness. We do not earn such care, for he offers us this warmth without cost. We can get into some pretty sticky and difficult situations. He frees us to love him.
The image of Jesus as Shepherd also calls us out of the church walls and into the world to help people in need. During this pandemic we see the death of many people who were unable to hold the hands of family members they love. People are experiencing food insecurity during this time of job loss and isolation. The church is more than just a place for private devotion, it is a center from which we all learn to reach to people who need the basics of life, those who need healing and attention from us all. Jesus, the Shepherd models for us tenderness and care, not just in the sanctuary, but in the thickets of everyday life.
When we examine the images of Jesus revealed in the Easter Season, we learn that Jesus is kind, merciful and protective. These images form us as we celebrate the Resurrection of the Lord. These images and actions of Jesus help us learn to live in our world differently, with hope and promise for all people.
1 John 3;1-2: Beloved, see what love the Father has bestowed on us that we may be called the children of God. Yet so we are. The reason the world does not know us is that it did not know him. Beloved, we are God’s children now; what we shall be has not yet been revealed. We do know that when it is revealed we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is.
In Luke 24: 13-35, we walk with two of the disciples on the road to Emmaus. We overhear the frustrations and uncertainty about their experiences of the past few days after burying the Master. They cannot believe what has happened. Jesus, the one whom they followed, went to his death and now they hear that he has been raised from the dead. However, Jesus meets with them and their eyes are not yet ready to recognize him.
They retell all the events to the one who they think is a stranger. Then Jesus begins to tell his tale of salvation history. He stays with them, breaking bread and opening up the scriptures. The eyes of the followers were opened and their hearts burned with love. He was present again to them in the breaking of the bread and in the stories of love.
We continue the Easter event on this road to Emmaus in every Mass. The scriptures are broken open to us in our hearing. In every Mass, the Real Presence of Christ is revealed to us in the proclamation of the gospel. The scriptures are fire and love; they are alive and vibrant. The Holy Spirit is embedded in every word. These words of the gospels are not just a text proclaimed by the priest just for kicks. This is not the phone book or an advertising brochure in our inbox.
These are the words from God. These are the words handed down to us from centuries ago imbedded with love, with hope, and healing for all God’s people. These words are not a quick text, not a few words on Instagram. These words are not a knee-jerk reaction within community but come from the storytellers of the past to bring life to everyone. These words rouse hope. These words from the mouth of God fill our pain with healing, our ambiguities with direction, our anxiety with quiet hope. These words bring with them the presence of Jesus who is our way of life, our trust on the perilous journey we call life.
Jesus is revealed to us in the Breaking of the Bread at Mass. This action of the Eucharist is his Real Presence. Our eyes can be just as covered with sleep, inattention, pride, and self-preoccupation as the eyes of the disciples. What reveals our relationship with Jesus Christ within the Eucharist is love. God’s love desires our souls.
Yet, we have to show up to such a relationship. We have to be willing to give our selves over to God’s love. We are called to fall in love with God. Showing up is not just an obligation; it becomes a way to be in love. This love is revealed in how we accept people, how we welcome the lost and forgotten, how we expand our hospitality to people who are different from our selves. Showing up to God is not just a journey to heaven. We are challenged to become a people who believe we are loved by God so to then go out into the world to love other people. The Eucharist is not a ticket of insurance for salvation. The Eucharist becomes a way of life, a way of loving in our families, in our world. Our eyes need to focus on such a love. Our lives need to become what it is we celebrate at Mass, love made flesh.
Today we peer into the locked room where the disciples huddled in fear. We can relate to this moment in the scriptures since we have lived this past year reimagining our relationships, feeling stripped of intimacy and our everyday life routines. The pandemic has forced us into solitude and to explore what it means to live our faith and our lives in surrender and hope. We have endured job loss, racial tensions, depression among our teens and many people dying alone in hospitals. Today, Jesus stands in the center of our fear as well and offers us peace.
This gospel from John 20: 19-31, invites us to acknowledge our own fear after Jesus’ death. The Resurrection of Jesus unfolds with profound insight in this Easter season. Gradually, we come to terms with what the Resurrection of Christ Jesus means for our own lives. This text reveals to us that fear is useless.
We view the disciples behind locked doors. I can imagine how they felt, struggling to make sense out of the events of those past days. They encountered his suffering and their own grief. Their expectations of following him exploded in their faces. I imagine that room filled with body heat and fear, with few words floating in the tension. Their anguish roused silence and heightened hearing. Every move and sound must have brought fear to a deeper level.
Then a miracle happened. From the blackness of fear, Jesus appears to them. Without a key to the room, or hearing his footprints, he appears before them. Jesus mutters with great assurance the first words of the Resurrection, “Peace be with you.” Those words have echoed down the centuries into our liturgies. I wander if we ever reflect on the way those disciples first heard those words with their heightened hearing and beating hearts. Peace, I am sure, must have seemed impossible.
Jesus reveals himself. He showed them he was the real deal. His redeemed wounds, his scars on his hands and feet, teach them that he is the same person from before but now incredibility different. They are following him into new spiritual territory. He becomes divine; he enters their hearts with profound hope.
Then John’s account of Pentecost happens. Jesus sends them out the door. He breathes on them offering the Holy Spirit. I can’t imagine this moment. There are many missing paragraphs it seems. Their bodies were weak with fear, and then in an instant they were sent into the world with a new vision. This is intense. There is so much to deal with from the disciples’ perspective. Pentecost soars within hours of the Resurrection in the Gospel of John.
Thomas was not in the room at the time. He shows up a week later. Thomas is unable to put all the pieces together. I don’t blame him. Who could have seen this coming? So Jesus returns and Thomas touches Jesus’ redeemed wounds with his own hands. He puts his finger into the nail marks on his hand. He probes the mystery of the wound in his side. I want to feel what Thomas felt. How I wish I could have been with them in this encounter. From the depths of Thomas’ soul, from his gut, he just can’t keep it inside of him, he proclaims, “My Lord and my God!”
This particular gospel from John is proclaimed every year on the Sunday after Easter Day. Thirty-eight years ago, I preached on this text at my First Mass in South Bend, Indiana. In these months of COVID-19, our men who are ordained this year must limit their friends and families, even at their first Masses today.
On this Divine Mercy Sunday, we recognize the sheer gift of God’s utter love, forgiveness and tenderness. Mercy is not earned; this love is gift to help us all heal and to find our ways beyond the locked doors of hopelessness.
This profound encounter between Jesus and Thomas invites us into deep faith.
Every believer touches the mystery of Jesus’ presence in various ways. We grow into touching the wounds of the Body of Christ in our service among people. We touch human suffering every day. We probe the mystery of the wounded and redeemed Body of Christ when we experience human suffering. Love changes us. Love enables us to proclaim on our lips, “My Lord, and my God!”
Broken But Not Divided 