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When there is a large event going on – music festival, sporting event, large religious gathering, mass vaccination center – there is a need for volunteers to help. Sometimes the volunteers will wear brightly colored shirts. Sometimes they will wear a vest over their own shirt. And they wear that vest, so that they can be easily identified, for someone who can help guide and direct.
In the Gospel of Mark – which is where our Palm Sunday and Easter reading come from – there is this strange figure who is wearing distinctive garb. In the Palm Sunday reading, in the Garden of Gethsemene, there is a young man wearing a white robe, who runs off when they seize Jesus. And in running off, he leaves the robe. In our Easter reading, there is again, a young man wearing a white robe. But here, he doesn’t run off. He’s in the empty tomb, and helps the faithful women who are searching for Jesus, who in turn, will help the Apostles.
For Mark’s first listeners, that white garment symbolized the baptismal garment, in which they were clothed, immediately after their baptism, signifying new life. Here’s an example [holding up vestment] – for the little ones who are baptized – baptismal garment, vest-style.
Most of us were baptized when we were infants. And during that rite, after the actual baptism, someone put a white garment on you.
While it might seem a little small for you now: brothers and sisters, we’re still wearing it. While it needs a periodic wash in the sacrament of penance, it’s still on.
And part of the reason that you’re still wearing it – is so that when others come into your life – who are searching – for something, or better yet, some-ONE…you can direct them to a place of encounter. You can point out to them, that place of renewal.
On Holy Thursday, we talked about what Jesus came to save us from – being turned-in-on-ourselves. On Good Friday, we talked about how Jesus works that salvation, through our mixed-motives and half-baked schemes. And today, on Easter, we talk about how you and I fit into this picture, pointing out that place of renewal.
By being a guide for others, it doesn’t mean we are better than they are. In fact, they may be more naturally virituous. It also doesn’t mean we impose our faith on them. Because, at the end of the day, they will decide to continue the search, or not. All it means – is that we have the courage to admit – where God has saved us // from turning-in-on-ourselves.
Last night at the Vigil, a remarkable young man completed his sacraments of initiation. A senior at Castleton University, he is also a realtor, and elected to his town’s select board. Baptized as an infant, he had already been wearing the baptismal garment in life. Now, as a young adult, he wanted to understand what it was.
Today, on this Easter, we better understand the vest we wear as well.
Last summer, one of the activities that saw an increase in interest, was gardening. A recent television commercial from one of the box stores hopes to build on that interest, with the underlying message of: “Why do you need to go somewhere this summer to discover, when discovery awaits in your back yard?”
For those who grew up on a farm - gardening or yard work has always been a way to reconnect with one’s roots, to reconnect with the earth.
It is the garden that the Church Fathers saw so clearly in John’s Gospel as the place for redemption, renewal, re-creation. They linked the Garden of Eden, with the Garden of Gethsemane, to the Garden near Calvary.
It was in the Garden of Eden that God spoke, and creation came into being. And it was also the Garden of Eden that our first parents heard someone else speak – the Evil One – with that famous question: “Did God really tell you…?” With the temptation of being exalted as an individual, the process of being turned in on one’s self began...
But now, in the Garden of Gethsemane, it is clear who is the one speaking – the Son of God – and the ones who are listening. Even the arrest party, who came prepared for a big confrontation – even they listen, and do what Jesus tells them to do, to let the disciples go free. Even Peter, who was so willing to die with Jesus, listens and puts his sword away, and lets Malchus go free of further harm.
Why does this happen? Because Jesus came to give life to all of them – even if theyshowed up ready to take away life, to meet their own purpose of the moment.
Even Judas – Jesus came to give life. And here, in John’s Passion, Judas take a secondary role, which makes Scripture scholar Francis Maloney wonder // if Judas was simply part of the overall plan. If there is hope for Judas, there is hope for you and I.
As the Passion progresses, Jesus gets tossed like a political football, between all the players -- how things never change -- but even this Jesus permits, because through human conniving and weakness and stupidity – even by way of this, Jesus can work out God’s desire to give life to His people, once again. The Life, so beautifully shown at the dawn of creation.
Last night, at Holy Thursday, we talked about how Jesus came to save us from that original turning-in-on-self. And today, on Good Friday, we see how Jesus works out that salvation – even through our petty plans – through His Cross.
Are you ready to get back into the Garden this summer….so you can hear the voice of the Creator?
It’s nice to hear that some of our parishioners, who have had their shots, will be reuniting with grandchildren, starting this weekend.
They have been delivered, from the barrier that kept them apart.What is it, in your life, that you need deliverance from?
Uncertainty?
Caregiver burnout?
A difficult personal relationship?
Politics?
Worry - about a loved one?
Virus fatigue?
In the 1930’s, in the Western world, it would seem, there was plenty to be delivered from. The Stock Market Crash, the Depression, Communism and Fascism brewing in Europe. A Benedictine monk from the Midwest - Virgil Michel – had just come back from studies in Europe, and came to an interesting conclusion about what we needed deliverance from.
As unsettling as the Stock Market crash was in the United States, and as ominous as Communism and Fascism appeared to be, Michel saw them all, as symptomatic of something else - a deeper underlying issue. If anything, the stock market crash showed the limits of this issue, and the mass political movements in Europe were unhealthy attempts to address the issue.
And the issue – was individualism.
Individualism.
Fr. Michel's statement went over like a lead balloon, especially when Catholics were still viewed with suspicion.
But the very thing once celebrated as liberating, especially in the United States, was starting to become alienating. When people felt alienated from themselves, from others, from their communities.
And the cure to this issue?
Here, Fr. Michel saw it with crystal clarity.
The cure – was what Jesus provided on the night of the Last Supper. On the night they were celebrating the great deliverance from slavery at Passover, Jesus was giving them a way to celebrate the great deliverance from self. That is, the-self turned-inward.
That cure - is the Eucharist.
In the Eucharist, individuals come together, to offer the sacrifice of time and thanks. All of this points an individual outward – away from one’s self – toward God and neighbor. And to emphasize this focus, Jesus gives the model of feet washing.
What about the people who, by circumstance, are completely outward-focused, and are at their wit’s end? Here we think of caregivers, of all types. For them, the Eucharist is a reminder – that one shouldn’t be expected to keep giving, when one’s tank is on empty. People need refreshment, they need Sabbath rest.
The Eucharist may not change the world right away, to what we hope it will be. But it will change us, who will then slowly shape the world, to how God wants it to be.
Together, as the Body of Christ, we can be so much more.
Aloysius Gonzaga was born in Italy, the oldest child of a royal family. His father clearly envisioned his future: even at age 7, he was dressed in armor, walking alongside his father, as they reviewed the kingdom’s soldiers.
At age 9, he was sent to a boarding school of sorts, in Florence, to learn the art of being a prince. But given all the intrigue and deceit, it only prompted Gonzaga to turn to prayer.
As he grew older, Gonzaga started to work for other royal families, and eventually attained the honor of becoming a knight. But at a certain point, he made a definite break with this path // that his father set him on, and expressed his desire to join the Society of Jesus, whose motto was, ‘for the greater glory of God’.
His father was enraged by the news // that his son, his direct heir, wanted to renounce everything // so carefully prepared for him. In response, his father sent him and his brother on a tour of the royal courts of Italy, hoping that the experience of refined living would change his son's mind // and // relieve the tension that had developed between these two strong-willed individuals. The son's determination proved to be stronger, and the father finally granted his assent.
Gonzaga went to Rome, to begin his Jesuit formation and studies. During his studies, the plague hit Rome. In the midst of caring for plague victims, Gonzaga contracted it himself, and died at age 23. He was canonized, and is a patron of youth. Gonzaga University in Washington is named after him.
Today in our Gospel, everyone is in Jerusalem for Passover. Jesus has just entered the city in triumph, with crowds waiving palm branches. And now, some people from outside of Israel, some Greek-speaking visitors, want to meet Jesus. So they ask some of Jesus disciples, who have Greek names, to approach Jesus on their behalf.
Andrew and Philip approach Jesus with the request to meet up, and Jesus responds: ‘The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified.’
It would seem that Jesus has just crossed some sort of threshold – even outsiders wanted to know him now – as if he reached a certain milestone of followers on social media. It would seem that Jesus was now living his ‘glory days’. But the glory that Jesus is talking about, has less to do with himself.
The glory that Jesus is talking about – is the fact that people outside of his ‘group’ – want to get know His Heavenly Father better. There is now a chance – that these two different groups of people can come together – Jew and Greek – unified by God.
This is the glory that Jesus is talking about. It is the glory of connecting God the Father with all of His people.
Brothers and Sisters, we’ve arrived at our final Lenten Sunday. Each Sunday we’ve talked about a subtle movement or change that we can make in our spiritual life, so that we turn back to the Lord, and not simply turn back to normal.
And so, as we conclude with the Fifth Sunday of Lent – we make this move: the move from faith as a way to subtly glorify myself, to faith as way to glorify God, the Father of us all.
As Aloysius Gonzaga walked the streets of Rome, he picked up victims of the plague who were older than he was, people who could have been his father’s age. When that happened, those people encountered a glory. Not the glory of a future saint, or a university winning basketball championships, but the glory of God the Father who wanted to be close to His people.
When we find ourselves as that very link – linking someone to their Heavenly Father – then we can taste the glory of God as well.
Katharine Drexel - was in the driver’s seat.
Born in Philadelphia in 1858, her father was an international banker. She received a top-flight education, and traveled widely. As a teen, she made her debut into Philadelphia high society. If she were to marry, it would be the man would be marrying into money. Despite the surroundings, her home was one of deep faith. Three times a week, her mother opened the family house to the poor. Her father spent a ½ hour in prayer every evening.
When her stepmother contracted a terminal condition, Katharine made an important discovery. As Katharine nursed her through a three-year illness, she discovered, that all the Drexel money, could not buy safety // from pain and death. A biographer notes that her life took a profound turn.
Katharine had always been interested in the plight of Native Americans, having been appalled after reading about their situation, in the book by Helen Hunt Jackson, A Century of Dishonor. She also received first-hand accounts of their needs from her friend, Bishop James O’Connor, who served in Wyoming.
So, while a grand tour of Europe, she had an audience with the Holy Father, Pope Leo XIII. And there, she asked him to please send more missionaries to Wyoming, where they were needed.
And the Pope’s response?
“Why don’t you become a missionary?”
A biographer notes that “his answer / shocked her / into considering new possibilities.”
After visiting the Dakatos, meeting Sioux leader Red Cloud, and beginning her systematic assistance, she received a singular grace on March 18, 1889. As she would write: (quote) “The feast of St. Joseph brought me the grace / to give the remainder of my life / to the Indians and the Colored.”
Here is what followed: a new religious order, a system of Black Catholic schools in 13 states, fifty missions for Native Americans in sixteen states, and the founding of Xavier University, the first Catholic university for Black Americans, and then after her earthly death: beatification, sainthood.
In our Gospel, we encounter Nicodemus. Like St. Katherine Drexel, Nicodemus came from much learning. He probably had some means as well. He is a Pharisee, which as a political/religious party, viewed Jesus with suspicion. So, Nicodemus arranges to meet Jesus at night, out of the sight of others. As a Pharisee, he was confident of his system / / of seeing the faith and the world. But now He’s trying to figure out – how do I fit this remarkable person, into my worldview? Into my system?
This tendency shown by Nicodemus, is somewhat natural, because of our need to work. The tendency to construct, arrange, build, take credit. And Paul, in our 2nd Reading, speaks to it. It is so strong, that Paul has to continually convey that God wants to gift His people with grace; hey don’t have to work to earn it. Instead, they have to strive to be opento it. Yet again, even being open to it // is a product of God’s grace. Paul tells them:
For we are his handiwork,
created in Christ Jesus for the good works
that God has prepared in advance,
that we should live in them
That whole list of achievements // for Katherine Drexel and her religious order: God prepared all of them in advance…before she was even born! What God called Katherine to do, was to receive them, to steward them, and as Paul writes, “live in them.”
You and I, are not called to live in the same good works that God prepared for St. Katharine Drexel, for a very simple reason:
You and I are not St. Katharine Drexel.
In our Lenten journey, this weekend, we make the move: from the good works that we’ve planned and carried out – to the good works that God has already planned, and desires to carry out with our participation.
What might those be? [PAUSE]
As we look back on the life of Katharine Drexel, it turns out, that despite all the resources and power at her disposal, she was never in driver’s seat.
And she rejoiced that she wasn’t.
God’s good works were infinitely better // than her own.
I’d like to present to you four different images of Jesus, and see how you react to them.
The first: when Jesus feeds the multitude, with the bread and fishes.
The second: Jesus teaching the people, from a boat, off the shore.
The third: Jesus cleansing the Temple, which is today’s Gospel.
The fourth: Jesus talking about those who will NOT inherit the Kingdom of God.
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Jesus who feeds, Jesus who teaches, Jesus who cleanses the Temple, Jesus who pronounces woe.
Which of these four images appeals to you, right now?
Why does it appeal to you?
Which of these images might you feel uncomfortable with?
Why does it make you uncomfortable?
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Paul in our 2nd Reading, takes stock of all these different ways that people can react // when they first encounter Jesus. Some are looking for signs, like the feeding of the multitude, perhaps to meet their pre-conceived notions. Some are looking for wisdom, perhaps so that they too can enjoy it, for their own purposes.
But as Paul writes, the sign and wisdom that God gives us, is His Son on the Cross. A sign of God’s outpouring love for us, and the wisdom that giving one’s life is actually to live it most fully. Neither this sign nor this wisdom are easy to accept, given our condition, which is why God keeps declaring it – again and again.
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Let’s imagine for a moment that we are the disciples in today’s Gospel. We know that something important is going to happen, but we can’t quite figure out what that is. All of sudden, Jesus starts overturning tables, while saying ‘Stop making my Father’s house a marketplace!’
Some of us would be startled, thinking He’s lost his mind.
Some of us might be thrilled, thinking, ‘Finally, this is the type of action we signed up for.’
But again, like the Cross, the sign-value and wisdom-value of what He is doing, will be fully evident later, when the disciples put it all together. And with the help of the Holy Spirit, they are able to make that move, that transition…..from what they thought Jesus should be for them…to allowing Jesus to be God for them.
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We recall those four images: Jesus who feeds, Jesus who teaches, Jesus who cleanses the Temple, Jesus who pronounces woe. During your prayer this week, ask the Holy Spirit, to guide you on the journey: from the image of the Jesus that makes you comfortable, to that image which makes you feel less comfortable, AND THEN, to being with Jesus at the Cross.
Being with Jesus at the Cross, is where we see his full sign-value, his wisdom on full display, His love to the max.
The Irish - have a wonderful way with words.
I was talking recently to one of my canon law classmates, an Irish Dominican. He was talking about life in a Dominican Priory, trying to keep the older friars safe, as Ireland undergoes another lockdown, and he continues his apostolate of teaching, which is now online. At some point he said something along the lines of, “all of this carry-on, and I keep saying my prayers.”
“Saying my prayers.”
There is a lot packed into that statement. Centuries of Christian spirituality, which we have inherited. Where someone would say prayers every morning, bedtime, and at Sunday Mass. Or the French Canadian equivalent, ‘say my beads’ – saying the rosary.
In the Gospel, Peter and the other two disciples witness an incredible event. And in response, Peter says something. Sometimes commentators and homilists have criticized Peter in this situation, saying that he’s just being Peter: talk first, think later. But other commentators have reflected: what else could Peter possibly say? What he proposes is understandable, and good in itself.
God doesn’t take him up on his response, on his intercession. But God does respond to his prayer…in a different way. He covers the disciples in a cloud, so that the only thing they can do, is listen. And listen they do:
“This is my beloved Son. Listen to him.”
They will need to focus on listening: because the outward appearance of Jesus will change: from earthly Jesus, to transfigured Jesus, to crucified and glorious Jesus, to risen and ascended Jesus. What they see will change, what they hear will not.
When we’ve had times in our spiritual life, where it seems God isn’t answering us, He might be putting us in that Transfiguration cloud, so that our listening, becomes even more keen.
The Irish - have a wonderful way with words.
Flannery O’Connor, one of the great American Catholic writers, had a dry wit, and an even sharper ability to observe. She once said that “in the land of the deaf, you have to shout.” // “in the land of the deaf, you have to shout.” And in the land of the spiritually deaf, God indeed has to shout. With the incredibly troubling story of Abraham and Isaac in our First Reading, God shouts to us, to get our attention.
The story is not about blind obedience to a capricious God, as Bishop Barron has observed. Rather, it seems to me, it a story about the utmost importance, of listening. Abraham, at every stage of the story, listens to God. And because he listens, he is then able to see, the means to carry out God’s will. And God’s will it is: that Isaac lives, so that he will give life, to His people.
The Lord is on the road to Jerusalem. Like the Lord’s journey to Jerusalem, Lent is a time of movement in our spiritual journey. Last week, we were invited to make the move from ‘what do I want for my life?’ to ‘what does God want for my life?’ This week, we are invited to make the move from: ‘prayer as first talking God’ to ‘prayer as first listening to God.’
In this Mass, we offer the sacrifice of our listening, so that God can bestow on us, yet another gift: the gift of sight.
Danielle Campoamor is a freelance writer in New York City. She and her partner of seven years have two children, ages 6 and 2. She was interviewed by an AP reporter, in an article in Tuesday’s Burlington Free Press. The article was about the challenges that many couples face during the pandemic.
Danielle says that she and her partner argue frequently, as the pandemic complicates the challenges of raising their two children // and earning needed income. She works from home; he commutes to an Amazon fulfillment center.
“He goes to work for 12-hour shifts,” said Campoamor, who is age 34. “I’m left alone / helping my 6-year-old with online learning, potty-training my 2-year-old, cooking and cleaning.
There are days when I think, ‘Yes, we can do this,’ and other days I say, ‘No way that I can do this’” she said. “We don’t have the time to discuss our relationship, to work on improving it, or on separating. Sometimes I don’t have the capacity // to remember what day it is.”
If we had to ask either of them him: ‘do you feel fulfilled?’ – how might they respond?
If we were in their shoes, how might we respond?
My guess, is that they would respond that they are frazzled, not fulfilled. Another possible answer: some days are more fulfilling than others.
In our Gospel for the First Sunday of Lent, we hear Mark’s version of Jesus’ temptation in the desert. We’ve come to see that Mark is very light on details, and seems to focus more on outcomes. And the ‘outcome’ of Jesus’ 40 days in the desert, is that He has something important to say: “this is the time of fulfillment.”
What fulfillment? The fulfillment – of His promise to us – to restore the relationship between Creator – creature – and creation. This is the News he announces.
Like Mark’s Gospel, this Good News has an outcome, an invited response. Jesus invites us to ‘turn around’ (aka to repent) to see how God wants to accomplish // this restoration in our world, and in our personal lives. This is rather than trying to engineer it on our own.
This restoration of relationship – between Creator – creature – and creation – is seen in our First Reading, when God and Noah enter into a covenant, a holy pact, to heal the links that had been distorted. It is also symbolized in our 2nd Reading, which talks about baptism – the place where God, his people, and water – are not set against each other, but brought into harmony.
When Pope Francis issued his encyclical Laudato ‘Si, it was characterized as an environmental document. But when you read it, it is much more. It is about the ‘care of creation’ – not simply the ‘care of the environment’. It is about ‘human ecology’, not simply ‘biosphere ecology.’ When humans try to engineer their own way out of a situation, without reference to that fundamental relationship of ‘Creator – creature – creation’, then the solutions can start to look as bad, as the original problem.
Repent and believe in the Gospel. Jesus issues this very call to Danielle and her family in New York City, He issues it to us today in Addison County. What might that look like for them? To repent may be to ask themselves about their own relationship with their Creator – their fellow creatures – and the creation around them:
Ultimately, God desires their good. God desires that they can pause, just long enough to see what this ‘good’ may look like.
Just like we take the time of Lent – to pause, just long enough – to see what God’s desire is – for us as well.
When you talk about the summer, or the fall, how do you speak of this time? Many people will say ‘when things go back to normal’, but then they may add a qualifier: ‘or whatever normal is’, or ‘the new normal’.
In our First Reading, from the prophet Joel, the people of Israel are trying to rebuild their nation after the Exile, when a plague strikes. The plague is locust. There was no known defense against them. After leveling the crops, they got into the houses. The first shortage to be noticed, was that of wine. And the next shortage, was bread. It was as if they were being invaded by a foreign army.
Into this situation God sends Joel, to proclaim that the Day of the Lord has arrived. This day is a day of judgment, but also – at the same time – of salvation. Of healing and health and restoration. God makes use of evil, and turns it into good.
So Joel tells them: going back to your usual ways of personal penance, and prayer, and fasting, will only be surface level. What God desires is that His people return to Him “with their whole heart.” Rend your hearts, not your garments. Call everyoneto worship together, not just some people, on their own time.
The call of Lent 2021 is to return to the Lord, not to return to normal. As we ponder how to live this Lent, we keep this objective in mind: how do my Lenten practices create the conditions, for my heart to return back to the Lord?
When our hearts return back to the Lord, we give an opening for the Lord to take pity on us, and gives us His bounty.
His bounty – is much richer – than going back to normal.