Passion

April 19, 2019

One year, while praying the Passion, I was drawn to St. John – the beloved disciple of Jesus who stands with Mary at the foot of the cross.
 
I imagined myself as John comforting Mary before the tortuous execution of her only son. How do you see it? Is Mary near the foot of the cross or some distance away? Is she standing or kneeling? Is she fainting or alert, with her eyes fixed solely on Jesus? Where am I, now John, in this scene?
 
At first, I am strong, silently standing behind Mary, holding her as she watches Jesus slowly die on the cross. I lift my eyes, but I cannot watch. There is so much blood. I cannot stop his screams echoing in my ears along with the jeers of the crowd and the harsh commands of the soldiers. The air is laden with the stench of slaughter. Quivering, my knees buckle, and I collapse.
 
Time drags and there is no end in sight. I do not want to be here. Jesus, my teacher, my friend, my hope, is in pure agony. I cannot watch anymore. I cannot move. I am paralyzed by fear and horror. I am on my knees, heart-broken, ashamed, terrified. I lift my eyes to see Jesus one more time before I run off and hide like Peter and the others, but I can’t; in front of me, standing directly before her son, is Mary. Still on my knees, keeping my eyes on her, I inch closer.
 
I am a terrified child, clinging to my mother’s cloak. As I draw closer to her, I feel the tenderness of her hand cradling the side of my head as Jesus says, “Woman, behold your son.” I came to comfort her, but she is comforting me. I lift my eyes to Jesus. I am pierced by the longing in his eyes; a dying man entrusting his mother to a broken man. Mustering both strength and tenderness, he says to me, “Behold, your mother.” Here, at the foot of his cross, the church is conceived. 
 
Here gathers the cloud of witnesses – all the missionaries who have given their lives in service to the Gospel. Just in our lifetime, and from our country, we remember Sr. Dorothy Stang, SND de Namur who died serving the indigenous people of the Amazon Rain Forest. Father Stanley Rother, from Oklahoma, who was killed in Guatemala for his work with the poor. The five Adorers of the Precious Blood who died during the civil war in Liberia.
 
There is another type of martyrdom the missionaries who go, share the hardship of others, and witness their suffering, embrace. Women and men missionaries witnessed firsthand the genocide in Rwanda. Today, with all the suffering in South Sudan, missionaries go to serve and accompany the people. Even short-term mission trips, who have developed long-term relationships, continue to return every year to the pain and poverty of the people of Haiti, Honduras, and Nicaragua. 
 
On Good Friday, we stay close to Mary as we witness the suffering of people all over the world. We want to hide our eyes, but we keep them wide open. We want to run away yet we stay close by. We want to get lost in distractions, but we reach out in compassion and concern. We want to collapse in defeat, but we rise-up to face the pain of our friends close by or on the other side of the world. Our hearts are broken, and we risk having them broken again.
 
We know deep within our souls that we can move beyond ourselves. We will not be defined by our comforts. We are willing and able to cross borders just to encounter and be with others. We can and will risk a personal encounter with a stranger shouldering their hopes and fears, their sorrows and joys, as our own. Every moment, any service, all the relationships we form through mission, we gratefully and prayerfully embrace in the name of Jesus whose Gospel we proclaim and whose Kingdom we serve.
 
We are all called to mission. For some of us it will mean a few hours a week preparing for a short-term visit to a sister parish in another country. For others, the call to mission will draw us to religious life, community, and a life-time of mission. Still others will contemplate the meaning of mission in the life of the Church, praying and pondering from afar while holding God’s people deep within their heart. Many of us are just beginning to awaken to our call to mission and are finding ways to be with and for others in our neighborhoods, through pilgrimages, on immersion trips, through justice and peace, and with a commitment to reconciliation.
 
It is here, at the foot of the cross, that the church is conceived. It is here, at the foot of the cross, where mission takes root.

April 17, 2019

Betrayal

Betrayal is a deeply personal injury. Every time we put our trust in someone, we risk betrayal. Betrayal, however, is different than offense or denial. Betrayal is intentional. It takes time and effort to betray someone.
 
In today’s reading, taken from the Gospel of Matthew, we hear the story of Judas and his betrayal of Jesus. We do not know Judas’ heart, but he was clearly not satisfied with the way things were going. Although he walked with Jesus and the other disciples, he had already begun to remove himself from their company and mission. If he had conflicts with them, he could not come forward and present his concerns. Rather, he distanced himself from them and created a plan to end his relationship with them. He sought out the chief priests to see what kind of deal he could make with them if he handed Jesus over to them.
 
As we enter the scene, we see the trust of a stranger who provides a large room for Jesus and his apostles where they can celebrate the Passover. We see all of them gathered around the table in fellowship and celebration. Then, Jesus says that one of them will betray him, one who shares the same dish with Jesus. It is a very awkward moment, like having a dinner party in your home with your spouse’s secret lover as one of the guests. We can imagine the disciples looking at one another and claiming their innocence. Judas was brash; he had no shame. "Surely it is not I, Rabbi?" Jesus’ response was understated, if not sad, "You have said so." The evening, that begins with the generous hospitality of a stranger ends with the betrayal of “one of the twelve,” those disciples that Jesus had chosen to continue his mission.
 
It is not hard to imagine Judas, at that moment, breaking down and confessing his anger or his shame. He could have lashed out with his complaints, criticism, even contempt and Jesus, and the others, would have heard him out and responded with love. Or, he could have broken down, like Peter would do after his denial, and confessed his infidelity. But he doesn’t – he keeps to the shadows, playing his little games, until Jesus is arrested.
 
Notice how incredibly patient and accepting Jesus is with Judas. He does not make a show, he does not accuse Judas, he does not belittle him or expose him.
 
Whenever we trust someone, we, like Jesus, risk betrayal. The question is if we are convinced of our purpose and mission enough to risk betrayal, we can love others even as we suffer through that betrayal. Jesus never stopped loving Judas. Jesus cannot force salvation on to someone. Like Judas, we are free to walk away from the love of God.
 
Betrayal is deeply personal. Have I been betrayed and if so, how have I responded to it? Have I betrayed others and, if so, have I sought their forgiveness and reconciliation? The Church provides the Sacrament of Reconciliation where we can turn back to God, confess our sins, and accept God’s mercy and forgiveness. Perhaps today is a good day for an honest assessment of who I have denied and who I have betrayed. God will have mercy on our souls.
 

April 16, 2019

Denial

Our Lenten journey of radical conversion is an exercise in self-awareness; do I know who I am and what I am about? We have looked at time, space, generativity, relationships, mercy and now passion. Passion, where our desire for the good of others, our purpose, and our willingness to suffer for others all comes together, provides clarity of thought and compassion.
 
Today’s reading, taken from the Gospel of St. John, paints an intimate gathering of Jesus with his disciples. They are celebrating the Passover – God’s redemptive act in the history of the Jewish people that freed them from slavery in Egypt. During this celebration, Jesus is aware that one of them will betray him. This, understandably, concerns this little community of friends and mission. They ask Jesus who it is. Jesus reveals that it is Judas, sends Judas on his way, and then shifts the focus to praise of God whom he glorifies and glories him. Jesus is about to go away and they cannot follow him anymore.
 
This leads to a conversation between Jesus and Peter with Peter, in the end, saying "Master, why can I not follow you now? I will lay down my life for you." Jesus responds to Peter with compassion and clarity, "Will you lay down your life for me? Amen, amen, I say to you, the cock will not crow before you deny me three times."
 
There is a difference between denial and betrayal. We will look at betrayal tomorrow when we focus on Judas. Today, we consider the denial of Peter. Peter did not intend to deny Jesus. Indeed, Peter thought he was deeply committed to Jesus – that he would follow him anywhere and that he would lay his life down for him. Jesus knew Peter. He knew he was capable of such love, such purpose. Jesus also knew that Peter was not yet there. The closeness of the community of disciples gathered around a sacred meal would soon be shattered by the hostility of a crowd tossing about accusations with evil intent.
 
In facing his denial, Peter will come to know himself for who he is, understand his purpose, and know Jesus’ love for him. It will take time, it is a process that will lead Peter through the harsh judgement of his own convictions; he denies Jesus three times, within a few hours, and he thought he would lay his life down for Jesus?
 
Each of us have a purpose in life that expresses and gives focus to our desires. That purpose needs to withstand our own temptations to deny it, to give-up because we are tired, or distracted, or injured.
 
As we embrace Holy Week, today is a good day to take stock of who we are and how denial works in our lives. Perhaps we, like Peter, do not have the courage of our convictions. How have we done with our Lenten exercises? Have we spent more time in prayer? What has that time taught us about ourselves? Have we fasted? How many times did we cheat? Can we be single hearted? Alms. Did we give our time, our abilities, our money for the well-being of others with no thought of the cost or did we limit our generosity through rationalizations?
 
Jesus is closer to us than we are to ourselves. When we deny him, we deny ourselves, and when we deny ourselves, we deny him. The good news is that Jesus will not deny us; he will be with us when we are at our best and when we are at our worse.
 

April 15, 2019

Gratitude

Our theme for Holy Week is passion, as one of six foundational elements for radical conversion – beginning joyfully with “me” as the beloved of God and moving towards mission – loving others as Jesus does. Passion is that rich combination of desire, suffering, and purpose. Where does gratitude fit in – especially on April 15^th, Tax Day in the United States of America.
 
The Gospel today provides this beautiful, and intimate, scene where Jesus has gathered at Lazarus’ home in Bethany, just outside of Jerusalem, with his disciples. Lazarus, along with his sisters Martha and Mary, are having a dinner for Jesus. Lazarus died from some type of disease and Jesus brought him back to life and cured the illness. Lazarus is alive and well and about twenty people are gathering to celebrate. Martha serves the dinner and Mary comes to Jesus, anoints his feet with costly perfumed oil, and dries his feet with her hair. The fragrance of the oil fills the whole house. Food, friends, fragrance coming together in gratitude for life and friendship.
 
The joyful celebration is cut short. Judas complains – this oil could have been sold for a lot of money and that money could be given to the poor. Jesus rebukes Judas and reminds every one of his purpose in Jerusalem, "Leave her alone. Let her keep this for the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me." Then, a large crowd comes to see Jesus, and Lazarus whom he raised from the dead.
 
Gratitude is a state of being thankful. It is a way of being in the world. Gratitude is a deep recognition that what I have, what I have been given, comes from others and from God. Regardless of how hard I have worked in my life, or what suffering I have endured, still, life and love are gifts given to me.
 
Consider Mary in the Gospel today. She has a good life. She has the care and love of her brother Lazarus and her sister Martha. She is Jesus friend. Her life is rich and full and then Lazarus becomes sick. They send word for Jesus, but he does not come in time. Lazarus dies and they bury him. When he does come, Lazarus has been dead and buried for four days. Mary, when she learns that Jesus has come, runs to him. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” Jesus is deeply troubled, asks to see where Lazarus is buried, and weeps. Then, over the warnings of Martha, Jesus commands that they remove the stone and cries out in a loud voice, “Lazarus come out.” Mary is understandably grateful and wants to demonstrate the depth of her gratitude.
 
Let us pray with Mary today and be grateful for what the Lord has done for us, what he has given us. Let our gratitude be the foundation for our desires – for our hope and dreams.

April 14, 2019

Passion

 What does the word “passion” mean to you?
 
Today’s Gospel is the Passion of the Lord. The story begins with Jesus and his disciples at his last supper and ends with his death on the cross. Scripture scholars tell us that the Gospels were first and foremost a retelling of the Lord’s passion.
 
Passion is desiring the good of another so much you are willing to suffer – even die – for them.
 
We see this combination of desire and suffering in the beginning of today’s reading, "I have eagerly desired to eat this Passover with you before I suffer, for, I tell you, I shall not eat it again until there is fulfillment in the kingdom of God." Desire, Passover, suffering, a shared meal, fulfillment, the Kingdom of God – all key themes throughout Jesus’ life and ministry.
 
Pope Francis has called all the faithful to a renewed sense of mission. A true disciple not only learns from the master; he or she appropriates the teachings of the master and lives a new way. This new way of being in the world is what mission is all about. Yes, we need the graces of the sacraments, the Word of God, personal prayer, but all those activities are in service to mission.
 
A friend recently told the story of her 10K marathon. She went into training for several months, running three miles twice a week and a much longer run over the weekend. She watched what she ate, stretched, and learned a lot about breathing, what her muscles could and could not do, and the importance of rest and recovery.
 
Can you imagine doing all this training and then never running the marathon? She ran the marathon, completed the marathon, and was faster than expected. The sprint at the end cost her a pulled muscle so the celebration was a session with her trainer, but she had accomplished her mission. Desire and suffering.
 
Lent has been our training. We have looked deeply at basic elements of our life – time, space, generativity, relationships, and mercy. All of this comes together in a deep desire for the well-being of another.
 
Discipleship begins with following Jesus and flows into mission when we share Jesus and his purpose. As Pope Francis has said, mission is at once a passion for Jesus and a passion for his people. Our Catholic faith – sometimes framed as a debate between faith and works – is not a spectator sport. We must get up, off the bench, and get into the game.
 
Mission begins with self-knowledge and self-acceptance; this is who I am, the gifts that I have, and the purpose the Lord has entrusted to me. It moves into discernment; prayerfully deciding how to live out our call to mission given our life situation and vocation. Discernment reveals a who. The who powers our preparation and leads to witness and service. Our experience calls for reflection and integration and a new way of being within the Church.
 
As we enter Holy Week, let us accompany Jesus in his passion, death, and resurrection. We walk with him so his story becomes our story; we have a mission on this earth, a purpose for the well-being of others, and may our desire for them be so deep and so broad as to risk suffering, even death.
 
This week begin each day thinking about the needs of others. Structure your day so you have time to enter the story of Jesus; skip the evening news or your favorite shows on television or Netflix. Then, using your imagination, prayerfully insert yourself into the hours of Jesus final journey to Jerusalem – from sunset on Thursday night at dinner with his disciples to his last breath on the cross Friday afternoon.