DEEP FAITH

I have a question for you. Do you think that Jesus spoke more about love or faith? Let's take a survey. How many here think that Jesus talked more about love...raise your hand? How many think he talked more about faith?

Well, using word search on my computer, here are the results. Jesus talked about love 41 times in the four gospels. He talked about faith 116 times.

The story about the doubting Thomas is all about faith. So let's look at faith.

I don't know if we think much about faith. We talk about rules and doctrines...and we talk about faith to some extent, but I don't know if we really give it serious reflection.

Obviously, we have a certain belief in Jesus and look to him as a human being and the Son of God. He led a good life, did wondrous things, died and rose from the dead. We believe in what he taught, by word and deed. We follow him.

That's all good. But there is more to faith than that. While Jesus is the fullest revelation of God, and we go through him to God, I'm not so sure we venture into the depth of faith. Like my playing in the ocean, we wade around in the shallow water, but may be afraid to go out into the deep.

Deep faith begins with a sense of the colossal magnitude of God, and what it means to believe in God.

Let's put it in perspective. The earth, along with eight other planets, revolves around the Sun, one of the many stars that are part of the galaxy called the Milky Way. A galaxy is made up of a large group of stars and other space objects that swirl round and round in a huge circle. 

Now picture this. Light travels at a speed of 186,000 miles a second! This means that in one snap of my fingers, light goes around the world seven times. One snap of the fingers. Seven times. Well, how long would it take light traveling at that speed to cross the width of this great circle of stars called the galaxy? It would take 100,000 years. A hundred thousand years...at the speed of light! That's how big our galaxy is.

There's more. We know that there are other galaxies. Do you know how many? More than three hundred billion. When you think of the size of our galaxy...it takes 100,000 years to get across the diameter at the speed of light. Think about three hundred billion galaxies; it's mind -boggling.

Now, God created this. God is greater than all this. It staggers the mind.

That's what I mean when I say that we have to get beyond the shallow waters of faith, which sees God as sort of a special person out there somewhere. God, this living, loving being that we call God, is utterly beyond our imagination, greater than our comprehension.

When I ponder this, I am filled with awe and wonder at the thought that this great, colossal, holy being called God created me, listens to me, loves me. Probing this very thought is diving into the depth of faith.

How can we possibly believe in someone of that magnitude being so personal? Reason alone is of no help because we're dealing with more than our mind can take in.

Why, then, do we believe? Is it just a wish that maybe there is a loving, living being that is greater than the forces of the universe, and is working to bring it and us all to goodness?

Now we get to the heart of faith. We can believe in God because God takes the initiative to connect with us. For some incomprehensible reason, God created us so that we could relate to God. God made us that way. There is a pull in us toward God that was put there by God. 

Just as a baby is drawn to its mother, we are drawn to God. 

We don't summon faith ourselves. We don't fabricate it, reason our way toward it, and discipline ourselves to believe. It's already in us to be drawn toward God.

What we have to do is allow ourselves to get in touch with this pull towards God. That's what faith is. It's simply sensing this pull towards God, like a baby to its mother.

That's why it's good sometimes to image God as a mother. It's in us to be drawn toward God. That's the way God created us.

Faith is nothing more and nothing less than sensing my connection with God who chose not to be distant, but to be close to me...encircling me, enfolding me. As others have said, It is breathing God's breath and hearing God's heartbeat in mine. It's something very real, not a vague wish. It's already in us.

We simply sense this pull and let ourselves be drawn to God. When I tune into it, and move with that pull, I experience deep faith. And the more I open myself to that awareness, the more I move with it, and my faith gets stronger and stronger.

Let the doubts come. It's such a colossal truth that we can't help but doubt it now and then. But the pull is always there, stronger than any doubt. And when I let go, let God, then I feel a deep down peace that no one can take from me...the peace that Jesus gave in today's gospel. And especially here at Eucharist I learn from Jesus, and I join with him as he did on the cross in laying my whole existence into the hands of this living God.

That's why Jesus talked about faith so much. When we have faith, love follows, and all the rest follows too.

That's why Jesus said, Blessed are those who have not seen, and have believed. What we believe in is more than what we can see. It's more than Jesus' resurrection. It's more than the marks in his hands and the wound in his side. It's more than miracles and apparitions. It's nothing less than this great and unimaginable God who loves us and encircles us and enfolds us. 

We simply experience the pull in us towards this God, and we know with everything in us that it is true, and we go with it, and enjoy it, and we say, Thank you. And wouldn't you know, the Greek word for thanksgiving is Eucharist.

A NEW HEART

With joyous excitement, a friend at Gabriel House said to me, Fr. Frank, I won the biggest lottery! I'm getting a new heart! I have no words to describe how I feel. And to know that someone had to give their life for me to have new life. How can I ever repay them?

My dear friends, We have won the biggest lottery! We have received a heart transplant! We have God's heart...God's spirit within us...to give us new life! He lives...in us! Alleluia!

This is both our conviction of faith and a mystery. Today I'm going to focus on our second reading, St. Paul's Letter to the Colossians, to see what resurrected life is all about. 

I chose this letter because it contains a truth about the Resurrection that you may never have thought of. Not that you've never heard the words before. But sometimes you read a familiar passage, and a light goes on, and you see one of the well-known truths of our faith come alive in a new way. That's what happened to me and I want to share it with you. Here goes.

In his letter, Paul writes, When you were buried with Christ in Baptism, you were also raised with him. Paul doesn't say, You will be raised with Christ at the end of your life. It's in the past tense. You were raised with Christ. 

Now think about that. When Jesus died, God brought him to a new life - a transformed, risen, human life. Paul says that we have received this same life.

There's more. Paul says: If then you were raised with Christ, seek what is above...for your life is hidden with Christ in God.

Now, here's the flash of awareness, the good news I want to share. 

v  The resurrection isn't an event that simply happened to Christ.

v  The resurrection isn't something we look forward to when we die.

Paul is saying that the resurrection of Christ gives us new life right now. We are enfolded into the life of the risen Christ...now!

That is what happened at baptism. We didn't simply go into the water to express our intent to die to one way of living, and then come out of the water to express our intent to try to live a good life. There's more to it than that. Christ emerged from the tomb with a transformed, human, risen life. We emerged from baptism with a participation in the same life Christ received when he rose from the dead.

This is the life Christ gives to us: his transformed, human, risen life.

Think about it. This is the life that is nourished within us at every Eucharist. At the Eucharist we join with Christ in his dying and rising during the Eucharistic prayer. And then at Communion we come forward and literally become one with the Risen Christ. We are tangibly, visibly enfolded into Christ and his risen life when we eat the bread and drink the cup.

We become one with him. We are the same, but different. Just as he was the same after the resurrection, but different.

There's one more thing to say about this. I hope it will help us understand it more fully.

One of the things Paul deals with in other parts of this letter is the incorrect teaching of some in the community who said that we have first of all to believe in Jesus Christ, and then we have to earn a place in heaven - eternal life - by living an upright life.

Paul, in today's passage, says it's the other way around. Good behavior doesn't cause God to give the gift of risen life. God's gift of risen life causes me to live a good life. We don't earn a share in the risen life of Christ by "being good". Living a good life is simply a response to the risen life we have already been given. It's a matter of living up to who we are.

When I realize that I actually share in the transformed, human, risen life of Christ, then I want to live a better life. It's like my friend receiving new life through another's heart and act of generous love, and wanting to express her gratitude to her donor through her act of love...and a life of generosity.

Sharing in the risen life of Christ is not a future expectation. It is an accomplished fact. It results in, not simply living the way Christ once lived, but the way Christ is living and thinking now...in us, and through us.

My sisters and brothers, we have received a new heart...new life - from Christ. That is what we celebrate today. That is what impels us to do good and be good. But how we choose to respond to this heart-transplant is up to us. 

Our Church exhorts us, May those reborn in Baptism be one with Christ through their deeds. As we respond at Communion, Amen...Let it be so.

With great joy, I say once more, HAPPY EASTER! ALLELUIA!

THE GIVING CROSS

There is a beautiful and powerful story by Shel Silverstein, The Giving Tree.

Once there was a tree…and she loved a little boy.

And so begins the story of a tree being happy because she is able to make the boy happy. At first the boy desires nothing but to climb on her branches, eat her apples, and lie in the shade.

But as the boy grows, so do his desires. Because of the tree’s love, she gives her apples for him to sell for money to have more fun; her branches that he might build a house for a wife and family; and her trunk so he could build a boat and sail away from the boredom of life.

And then one day, the prodigal returns to the tree that loves him. By now, she had given him everything; all that remains of her is an old stump. The boy, now an old man, needs only a quiet place to sit and rest. And the giving tree gives once more.

Good Friday - what is it that we commemorate today? Of course, we remember and mourn Jesus' painful and humiliating death. In his suffering and death God seems to be reduced to silence. But today we especially remember and give thanks for the life-giving love on the cross.

We raise our eyes to Jesus who gave his all...who died to give us life...to someone whose nature was and is to give life! 

His death is the victory of love; it is the victory of life over death, for we see Jesus’ death in the light of his resurrection and the beginning of our risen life. Death is defeated! Death has no power over us!

In Jesus’ cry on the cross we hear the cry of all those who are, or have been, crucified. But also their hopes that they and we with Jesus will overcome evil.

Why did the Pharisees and Romans kill Jesus? Why did the mob cry out, Crucify him! Crucify him! Because they failed to see the holy presence of God in Jesus.

Why do we kill each other…with words if not guns? Because we fail to see the holy presence of God in each other.

What will it take for us to see, to be more aware, of God’s presence in each of us?

Perhaps something as simple as looking at the cross…the one we venerate today…any cross…any crucifix…perhaps the one we wear.

Each time we see the cross, let us remember not only his great love to give his life…his all…for us...to give life to us, but that God is here with us…within each of us. 

PALMS AND PASSION

Palms and Passion - triumph and humiliation.

The multitude singing Hosanna (which means God saves); the crowd shouting Crucify him! Crucify him! 

Betrayal, denial, abandonment; repentance, embracing and commissioning.

Light and darkness; darkness and light.

On this Palm Sunday, and during Holy Week, we have many questions to ponder. To begin, Why did it have to be this way? Why is it still this way - one moment entertaining sin, the next seeking to do good?

We know the story well. It's our story. It isn't just a question of With whom do we identify in the Passion drama? There is a part of the crowd and of the apostles in each of us.

We, too, fall to temptation, fear, sins of every stripe. What will it take for us so that as we enter this holiest of weeks, making time to walk with Christ, and reflecting on our Lord's passion, death and resurrection, we will be more faithful to our commitment...more loving to our neighbor?

Today we hold palms. In the coming days we will be invited to enter the drama even more deeply as we wash feet, kiss the wood of the cross, and keep vigil. All of this is to emphasize our presence in the story, to urge us to make the story our own. But no matter how we see ourselves in the drama unfolding this week, we cannot escape where the story leads...death and resurrection, which is probably the reason it is so treasured!

As we reflect on our part in the story, may we also ponder, Is Jesus really the Son of God who died for me? How different is my life because I know him?

This week, let us make time to reflect on the story, not just what happened, and what he did, but what we must do to be resurrected with him.

COME OUT AND PLAY!

Vito…Franco…come out and play!

As kids growing up in Windsor, Canada, my brother and I would hear our friends on Elsmere Street yell out to begin another day of exploring the park nearby, playing baseball or hockey (depending on the season), or Cowboys and Indians. We were being called out of the confines of our little house by the love of our friends to be more fully alive at play.

Today, we hear Jesus, with great compassion, yell to his friend, Lazarus, come out and play! Come out and live!

Our gospel today, and our journey of faith, are about being fully alive.  As Jesus said, I came that you might have life, and have it abundantly.  Perhaps, nothing makes us feel fully alive as kids at play.

If at times we feel entombed, Jesus says to us, Come out and play! Come out and live!  

There are many tombs in life. Each of us can feel entombed at times by the stress or hum-drum routine of our lives, and perhaps most of all by broken relationships that drain the life out of us.

In the movie, Flatliners, medical students begin to explore near-death experiences, hoping for insights. They each have their hearts stopped and revived. During those episodes, they begin having flashes of nightmares from the past, resulting from violent acts they committed or had committed against them. The experiences continue to intensify, and they begin to feel physically beaten by their visions as they try to go deeper into the death experience to find a cure.

The film asserts that the tombs we live in are relational. What drains the life out of us is sin. And all sin is relational. For those medical students, not being able to love or not being able to accept love was at the heart of their near-death experiences.

During our Lenten journey we have been examining our life, pondering who we are and whose we are. Perhaps it has also led us to reflect on our relationships, those that are life-giving and those that enclose us in lifeless tombs.

We all want healthy relationships. We know this demands love and sacrifice, honesty and trust, a desire for the other's well-being. This is the kind of love - the love of God - that Jesus came to manifest and to model for us. He wants us to be a community of friends and lovers.

But, though we know this, we may find ourselves bound-up by self-interest, which cuts us off from others - and from God. Without realizing it, we find ourselves living in tombs where life is drained out of us. 

If we feel lifeless, often, it is we ourselves who dig our graves.

Thus, as much as we want the best relationship with God, with others and with ourselves, we may prefer worldly values to God's, we let friendships wither, we ignore and even resent those who are different, and fall prey to self-pity, not accepting God's forgiveness nor forgive ourselves. Which leaves us like the walking dead.

Just as the actions of our childhood friends made my brother and me more alive, so do the life-giving actions of God, as reflected in our readings today. In love, God made a promise - a covenant - with us, irrevocably and unconditionally saying through the prophet Ezekiel, I will put my spirit in you that you may live.

The Lazarus story tells us not only of the power of Christ over death, but of friendship...and love...which free us from all that entombs us. 

Life not death...play not confinement. That's God desire for us. And it's our desire too.

But we have to do our part. Just as Vito and I had to hear our friends' call, and make the move from the semi-comfort of our home to join them and be more fully alive, we must be willing to hear God's call and be attentive to God's will in our lives, which is profoundly simple - to imitate in all we do and say that same covenant of love: Love one another as I have loved you. 

Today's gospel invites us to challenge all that traps us into separating ourselves from others. As in the Lazarus story, Christ commands us: Untie yourself and be set free.

My sisters and brothers, we are Lazarus, and Christ, our best friend, calls out: Come out and play!  

WHO AM I?

This is the question Jesus asked his disciples. Perhaps it's one we ponder as well. Lent is a perfect time to reflect on who we are, especially as we get close to the end.

Generally on our Lenten journey we search more intimately for God, especially through our spiritual exercises of prayer, fasting, and alms-giving. And we may begin to realize that the search is also for our truest self. 

We may be as blind about ourselves as we are about God.

Who are we? The bible tells us: every person is the image of God. Thus, we are who we image God to be. 

To most fully know God and ourselves, we need to look within ourselves.

Now, the search may begin within the depth of our heart, but it doesn't end there.

Years ago, an artist friend painted a portrait of me – as an unfinished puzzle…to indicate that I am still a work in progress…and that I have been and continue to be shaped by those around me. We’re all like that. We are all a masterpiece in the making...shaped, in part, by those around us...and by God.

Today's gospel about the man born blind is a graced opportunity to open our eyes and see more clearly who we are, perhaps to affirm our blindness to the unfinished masterpiece we are meant to be, to discover the role others may play in shaping us, and most especially to see the hand of God at work in us.

Just as Jesus gives the blind man the gift of sight, we, too, might sigh, Lord, I want to see. I want to see myself for who I really am. I want to see you.

After today's noon Mass, we will have a rehearsal by those who will dramatize the Live Stations of the Cross on Good Friday: Were You There? Some of our parishioners will take the role of 14 characters who were there. I have asked them to not memorize their roles but to get into the shoes of the person they portray and then bring that role to life.

The live stations are very moving and inspiring, but even more, it is amazing how much we learn about ourselves from the testimonies of those who were there.

Imagine you are invited to play a direct role in a stage performance of The Miracle at the Pool of Siloam. The cast of characters in today’s story gives us a range of choices as to whose shoes we want to put ourselves into. Actually, we should get into the shoes of each of them and see what we can learn about ourselves.

First there is the blind man himself. We can easily put ourselves in his shoes. He’s a natural, because his experience resembles our baptism. He was “anointed” by Jesus (with mud instead of oil), and then sent to a pool of water where his eyes were opened.

At our baptism we were washed with the gift of faith, which enabled us to see the Light. But the man born blind had more to learn, and so do we. He gradually moved from a superficial relationship with Jesus to one that was much more profound. I need to ask if I am moving in that direction. Am I moving closer and closer to Jesus, or just sitting still?

Next there are the Pharisees. We really don’t want to put ourselves in their shoes, but to be honest with ourselves, we have to do it. They think they see it all, and they’re ready to go after anyone who doesn’t see it their way. Not that we’re always like them, but sometimes we are. It doesn’t matter whether we see ourselves as liberal, moderate, or conservative. We’ve all got our blind spots. 

There are also the parents of the man born blind. They’re afraid, and they don’t want to get involved. For them it’s simply: Don’t ask us. Ask him. He can speak for himself.  

We do some of that too – we don’t want to get involved if it means we might have to pay a price.

Then we have the friends and acquaintances of the man born blind. In a way, they come off best of all. They ask him what happened, and they simply listen. They’re open, willing to learn.

I invite you to take some time now and this week, and put yourself in the shoes of each of these persons: the blind man, the Pharisees, the parents, and the friends. Don’t put somebody else there – we’d all be tempted to do that. Put yourself in the shoes of each, talk it over honestly with the Lord, and see how they help or block you from being your truest self.

Speaking of our Lord, let's not forget that Jesus, of course, is also in the scene. I don't think you really need me to remind you that you, too, are a beloved daughter or son of God. Yet while we believe it, we may have our reservations. Are we really like Jesus? Is there a part of him in us? 

Lest you have any doubt about that, I'd like you repeat after me:

  I am the unique, unrepeatable manifestation of God.

So as you take time to put yourself in the shoes of those other four characters mentioned above, put yourself also in the shoes of Jesus. And talk that over with our Lord as well.

And may it lead you to say, I was blind but now I see!

I THIRST

Give me a drink. Twice in the gospels Jesus says, I thirst. 

Here in the encounter with the Samaritan woman and on the Cross.

Perhaps you know that the number one killer of the poor around the world is lack of water.

But Jesus was thirsty for more than water. He was thirsty for her love…and ours. 

Imagine someone you love saying to you, I thirst for your love. How would you feel? Imagine our Lord saying to you, I thirst for your love. He does.

Our Lord continues to be thirsty for our love, and thirsty in tens of thousands of poor sisters and brothers who die from thirst…and hunger…and violence each day. He thirsts to quench their thirst for life through you and me.

In today’s gospel we see Jesus going to Samaria…going to the ends of the earth, as it were, to make sure he quenches everyone’s thirst – even a Samaritan woman and sinner.

The fact that the encounter is with a woman, a Samaritan and a sinner speaks volumes of God’s desire to quench the thirst of all. 

Two thousand years ago for a Jewish man to speak alone to a female stranger, let alone an enemy (as Samaritans were), and a sinner was not only unthinkable, it was taboo.

The woman was transformed…and became a transforming agent! That's what happens when we embrace another - especially an enemy - with unconditional love.

Jesus is saying to us that nothing will stop him from embracing you and me with love, from quenching our thirst – not our sins, our alienation, our religion or lack thereof – nothing, absolutely nothing.

We’re half-way through Lent...our annual 40-day journey of faith in the ‘desert’ of our life to more fully acknowledge our thirst…and God’s. 

What are we thirst for? As God thirsts for us and our love, we thirst for God...and there is a thirst in each of us to love and be loved. 

Have you ever felt really thirsty...dying for a glass of water...praying even for just a sip of water?

I remember hiking in the valley of the Grand Canyon, and as the sun beat down on me, the ever-present thought was survival...having water...finding water to stay alive.

We don't usually take hikes in the desert. And water is generally so abundant that we never get that thirsty. We never need to worry about finding a glass of water. We simply take it for granted.

Even as we strive to be good and faithful, we might also be oblivious and numb to our thirst for God. We may not give it a second thought.

Before we can seek the water to quench our thirst, we must first be aware of our thirst. And when we are, we discover that...the water that quenches our thirst is love. Love is both our thirst and our water.

Our Lenten "desert" journey is first of all about becoming evermore aware of our thirst, and God's desire to quench it. And we also have to open our eyes to see the well before we can drink from it. We have to want to see the presence and love of God with us...so that God can quench our thirst. 

Isn't that why we're here? That's what the Eucharist is all about. The altar, my sisters and brothers, the altar is the well where we encounter Christ...who quenches our thirst...and we quench his.

A lifetime ago, studying philosophy at Loyola University in Chicago, I took a course on The Study of Religions. The main focus was to see how each religion filled the well of its faithful…quenched their thirst.

To gain better understanding, we were placed in teams of six, each team assigned to prepare a 15-minute skit on the essence of the religion assigned to it, to capture how that religion quenches the thirst of its faithful.

I was part of "the Catholic team”. We chose to re-enact the Eucharistic prayer…the consecration of bread and wine...to reflect the source and summit of our faith, and how it fills our well and quenches our thirst. We used hosts and grape juice.

Chosen to play the part of the priest, I borrowed some vestments, a paten and chalice, a Roman Missal, and proceeded with the prayer, after which I invited all to come forward and receive.

All but one came – an elderly African-American woman. I said to her, Don’t be afraid. It’s just wafers and grape juice.

Her refusal was adamant. She said, Nooooo! It looked too real. Honey, I don’t want to be changed!

In a few minutes we’ll celebrate the real consecration. It won’t be play-acting. We will come and receive…to see and to be one with Christ.

But will our well be filled? Will our thirst be quenched?

Will we be transformed...and become a transforming agent?