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February 6, 2008
Ash Wednesday
Matthew reminds us, “Beware of practicing your piety before others I order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.” (Matthew 6:1)
I said to Ron Knapp, M.Div. Dean of Students just 2 weeks ago that I was looking forward to Lent. In Lents past, I loved the drama of suffering with Christ (I still do), yet perhaps for different reasons. Previously, the drama of the “sack cloth and ashes” appealed to me. I suppose I enjoyed the solidarity it seemed to engender among other Christians.
What’s different now? I suppose the reading of Thomas Keating in Lay Formation IV has changed that to some degree. I resonate with his meaning of “repent” as changing the direction in which you are looking for happiness. That’s a new paradigm for Lent for me.
Keating speaks of “interiority resurrection” as the radical healing of the human condition.
I suppose my Lent now parallels what we do at AI. We have shed our sack cloths and ashes for a new paradigm of interior resurrection, engaging Lent as preparation for this grace which is about to be healed.
I can now say with some theological significance what about Lent is so appealing to me.
Donna Branca
February 7, 2008
Thursday after Ash Wednesday
All of us have probably had the experience of feeling particularly endeared to a person with whom we hold a common view or belief. Such a bond may be fairly trivial when it is based merely on personal preference or on an idiosyncratic ‘point of view.’ But when the knowledge of eternal truth is concerned, the bond enjoyed by those who share this knowledge is uniquely potent. This is because a mutual perception of the truth is an essential component of that communion for which all of our hearts yearn.
This proceeds necessarily from our very nature as rational beings. Nor does this communion in the truth preclude a rich diversity of sundry perspectives and opinions about contingent matters, for the truth to which the Gospel testifies is abundantly capable of accommodating manifold expressions of wisdom.
In this way, the Magisterium of the Successor or Peter, fused as it is with the Church’s mission to proclaim Gospel truth, is directed toward the protection and the promotion of the unity of the human race. This is so in such a way that to reject this Magisterium is tantamount to a rejection of communion—a de facto choice of division and isolation; while to give one’s assent involves embracing that truth which alone is capable of uniting the entire human family. Thus, as the person of the Pope serves as a sign of unity, so his teachings serve as an instrument of unity for all who receive them with an open heart.
Br. Timothy Combs, OP
February 8, 2008
Friday after Ash Wednesday
Isaiah speaks to us about the sort of fasting he calls his audience to participate in. Verses 6-8 focus on fasting of all sorts, not merely restraining from food. Isaiah’s vision of fasting includes sheltering the homeless, clothing the naked, etc. Interestingly, these are the same sort of actions which Jesus spoke of in Matthew 25:31-46. Isaiah says that restraining from food often goes unnoticed, and self-affliction goes unnoticed. On the other hand, service to those in one’s own community is deserving of God’s recognition.
Matthew’s brief passage also concerns fasting, but with a slightly different theme. Jesus makes an analogy of a wedding, saying that the wedding guests would be wrong to fast as long as the bridegroom is present. Jesus says that he is the bridegroom and the disciples are the wedding guests. When the bridegroom leaves, the wedding guests will fast in mourning until the bridegroom returns. In a sense, we are in a state of fasting until Jesus’ second coming. The question is, what sort of fasting.
My reflection for today’s readings is that God finds joy when one of God’s children helps another, especially helping those who are poor or oppressed. We remember the words and deeds of Christ even after His departure at the ascension. It is our mandate to live as Christ lived now and after Christ’s return, whenever that happens to be. We need to continue challenging ourselves to serve our brothers and sisters through good words and good deeds because that is the real true form of fasting.
Steve Zaegel
February 9, 2008
Saturday after Ash Wednesday
Thorns
Thorns like awls press the head,
like picks I once thrust
into blocks of ice, chips flying like flecks
of blood. Before the face, nuns kneel.
I watched a woman, once,
in black shawl and veil weep before a Jesus torn,
tied, thorned, and
gazing at her.
Dali’s Christ wears no thorns, cleaves
to cubes and suffers in fingers that claw
the black sky like bone broken
beneath jackboots, the plane of his neck
stretched to breaking—the heart of the woman
who smothers her child lest his cries
carry him to camps and crematoria.
Effete thorns, nettles merely, wreathe
the head of Christ on the silver crucifix
hanging from a silver chain lying
in the softness of a woman’s cleavage.
Sr. Pat Chaffee, OP
February 10, 2008
First Sunday of Lent
Gn 2: 7-9
Rm 5: 12-19
Mt 4: 1-11
Acquittal. It is word that is like a fresh shower. Why is it so refreshing? It is like a breath of fresh air because it means we are free of accusation. No jail time, no fine. We are free.
The serpent, Eve, and then Adam got themselves into deep trouble. The first reading says so. The serpent then tries to get Jesus into the same deep trouble. But Jesus does not mince words: “Get away, Satan!”
There is a new Adam here. There is a new agenda here. There is a new obedience here. There is going to be a different kind of “fruit” here. Ruddy and wet it will run down the wood of the new tree.
Jesus enters the desert to get ready for mission. This one has come not to convict but to acquit. In our flesh he will take the rap. Onto his skin and bone will our sin be imprinted. Then we shall be acquitted. The load is off our back. It has been transferred to his…by his choice. Don’t argue. Just look. Look long and hard, and let your mouth hang open. Then humbly proceed to do the little thing you’ve planned for lent.
Carla Mae Streeter, OP
February 11, 2008
Monday of First Week of Lent
Lev 19: 1-2, 11-18
Mt 25: 31-46
“…nor shall you stand by idly while your neighbor’s life is at stake.”
Leviticus 19:16
This Scripture passage proclaimed near the beginning of Lent has haunted me ever since I was assigned to prepare a homily on it as a student at Aquinas years ago.
A basic question asked in Scripture is, who is my neighbor? I have neighbors on the block where I live: a physically disabled woman; an elderly Bosnian couple who wants to retire back to their homeland but cannot sell their house; a single-mother who works the nightshift.
I also have “neighbors” in other parts of the city whose lives seldom intersect with mine. And of course, there are “neighbors” in other parts of the world whom I hear about on the nightly news – those suffering from the economy, natural disasters, war and violence, and injustice of all kinds
.
For many of my neighbors, both near and far, their lives are at stake in some way. But usually I find myself all the while just standing by idly. It is easy to feel overwhelmed by the need in our world and to throw one’s hands in the air exclaiming, “What can you do?”
Yet that is the most important question all Christians must ask themselves: what can I do? I cannot end poverty in my city or the war in Iraq, but I can make life better in some small way for at least one person or family.
Our neighbors’ lives are at stake. Don’t stand by idly.
David Werthmann
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February 12, 2008
Tuesday of the First Week of Lent
Lord, I don’t know that I could have done what that South African woman did. She sat listening through the amnesty commission hearing at which the former police officer described his part in the arrest, torture, and murder of her son, his body tossed into the river. She listened as he went on to describe the abduction of her husband from their home, his dousing in gasoline and burning alive. When the officer finished his confession, she was asked what should be his punishment. Her reply was astonishing: “Take me to where you burned my husband so that I can gather up his ashes and give him a decent burial. Then come to my village for a week every month so I can be mother to you.”
You modeled that kind of forgiveness, didn’t you, Lord? “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And when you had passed through death to new life, the first words out of your mouth to your frightened disciples were not, “Where were you?” No, “Peace be with you,” you said. Then you breathed your spirit into them and gave them power to forgive or not to forgive sins on earth.
We struggle and struggle to forgive those who have done awful things to us. What peace pours into us when your Spirit floods us with the recognition that the one who abuses us is a wounded person who is in crying need of remedial love.
“Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass
against us.”
Carol Williams
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February 13, 2008
Wednesday of the First Week of Lent
Jon 3: 1-10
Lk 11: 29-32
“…no sign will be given [this generation], except the sign of Jonah.”
Nearly eight years ago, I participated in a men’s retreat given by the Franciscan Richard Rohr. This event was ensconced in the majestic, dare I say mystic, environs of the mesas and bluffs of Abiquiu, New Mexico. The overall purpose and exercises of this retreat were driven by the desire to create and facilitate a primal experience of spiritual transition, a move from male adolescence in all its sundry forms to a mature, embodied masculinity. The paradigm Richard insisted on using for this profound moment of transition was the sign of Jonah.
Being in the belly of the whale is the symbol of the darkness that is liminality, a state of in-betweenness, a type of interiority that is the foundation for any authentic conversion. It is not by any means a pleasant place to rest, but it can be understood to be quite spiritually fruitful if one endures the constitutive experience. The “wickedness” or “evil” of Jesus’ generation is indeed present in some form in all generations, in all of us, and the antidote may well be as unceremonious as our own “in-the-belly” incidents.
David Stocker
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February 14, 2008
Thursday of the First Week of Lent
Est C: 12, 14-16, 23-25
Mt. 7: 7-12
Ask. “I can’t read your mind. “ 25 years of marriage has witnessed that phrase all too often. Don’t we expect others, especially those close to us, to be able to know what we re thinking and to attend to our needs, and when they don’t frustration sets in. Wonder how that applies on Valentine’s Day for some of us: “You knew I wanted flowers, dinner, quiet time, etc.” But when we ask, the movement is from expectation to need. Asking is a humble act of trust arising from acknowledged need. .
Seek. What’s the old joke about men and directions? When we seek, again, we are placing ourselves in a place of vulnerability. We acknowledge that what we have, or the place we find ourselves in, is missing something. We depend on another for guidance.
Knock. I cannot just force my way inside. I knock, hoping that my quest will find complete resolution here. It is not mine to take, but to receive.
Hope. Christian hope is knowing deep inside that, in the words of Julia of Norwich; ‘All will be well. All will be well. ‘Why even ask, seek and knock if you don’t have the hope to start off with?
Imitate. In prayer we ask, seek, and knock with hope. As prayer-filled people, we listen, guide and welcome openly. Prayer changes us.
Carrie Sallwasser
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February 15, 2008
Friday of the First Week of Lent
At first glance, today’s gospel sees to condemn anger. Jesus clearly says, “whoever is angry with his brother is liable to judgment, whoever says ‘You fool!” will be cast into fiery Geehenna.” This impression is reinforced by the first reading from Ezekiel, which stresses the importance of obedience to God’s statutes and keeping the law.
But this gospel is about more than just mere obedience to the law. It is not about the evil of anger, which is an emotion and therefore something we don’t necessarily will. It is really about vengeance and how it destroys us from inside.
Think for example of a family who has lost a loved one to murder. Once the murderer is apprehended, the family may be filled with rage and anger. They might insist on punishment, even a death penalty, for the murderer. We might say that this is “righteous anger,” that they have been greatly wronged and that the killer “deserves to die.” Fair enough.
But the problem with this is that vengeance corrupts us internally. When we wish the pain or death of another, we cannot help but hurt ourselves. That’s why it has been said that the death penalty is not really about the criminal, who might well have forfeited the right to human respect and lost his place in the human community by his crime. The death penalty – or any kind of vengeance – is really about us. It is about what anger and vengeance and malicious intent does to us. It makes us coarse, it destroys mercy and compassion, it makes us less than human. As the philosopher Seneca once said, “There is a certain roughness of soul in those who do not shrink from causing pain to others.”
So when Jesus warns us about going to Gehenna, he’s not necessarily saying that God will “send” us there. He is saying that we may create our own flames of torment by indulging the kind of anger that leads to vengeance.
Fr. Charles Bouchard, OP
February 16, 2008
Saturday of the First Week of Lent
Moses:
Today you are making this agreement with the LORD:
he is to be your God and you are to walk in his ways.
Jesus:
… love your enemies, and pray for those who persecute you …
… be perfect, just as your heavenly Father is perfect.
The Lectionary today gives us for meditation a wonderful one-two punch. Moses’ proclamation of the covenantal relationship is a wonderful companion-text to Jesus’ new command to love our enemies.
To walk in God’s ways is not only to do with grace the fairly routine/manageable parts of discipleship day by day, but also to take on the higher challenges of following the law “with all our heart and with all our soul” as we commit ourselves to Jesus. And what could be more counterintuitive—and therefore more keenly requiring of our graced discipline—than loving our persecutors?
To be “perfect,” do we have a heart that beats for all, as did Jesus?
Ron Knapp
February 17, 2008
Second Sunday of Lent
Gen 12: 1-4a
2 Tim 1: 8b-10
Mt 17: 1-9
When I was growing up on the northwest side of Chicago in the 1940’s, Lent was active rather than reflective and prayerful. We went to daily morning Mass and on Fridays the Stations of the Cross; we gave things up (candy and movies) and collected money for the missions. Lent meant doing, not sitting around thinking.
Over the years, especially as a Dominican, I’ve learned how important prayerful reflection can be for exploring the meaning of Lent. It is a time to ask questions and seek understanding of what this season offers us in the lectionary readings and the quiet times of just “thinking.”
In the first reading from the book of Genesis for the Second Sunday of Lent, we hear Abram being called to set out and seek a new land. Is this new land a geographical location or a state of mind and being? We Christians are called to live more fully the blessing that God has bestowed on each one of us. God’s blessing offers us something more. This Lent, let us ponder the question: how do we find out what is the authentic “new land” for us?
Paul writes to Timothy about our call to a new life. Our lives are never complete and finished but in process to live the life God has given to us from the beginning.
As we enter our new land, how do we clarify what should be pursued and what should be left alone as we further our calling to new life?
Our new land is one of grace with the power to bring about the changes necessary for our salvation. The story of the transfiguration in Matthew’s Gospel teaches us that true change only comes through the grace of God. It is when we realize the revelation of God’s love for us, that we are God’s beloved and have been blessed, that we can begin to move toward the image that God has of who we can become. How do we ask for and then use the grace of God in bringing about our own transformation?
Let us prayerfully reflect this Lent on the great invitation God has given us to enter into the new land of grace which brings fuller life and transformation.
Harry Byrne, OP
February 18, 2008
Monday of the Second Week of Lent
36 Be merciful, just as your Father is merciful. 37 ‘Do not judge, and you will not be judged; do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven; 38give, and it will be given to you. A good measure, pressed down, shaken together, running over, will be put into your lap; for the measure you give will be the measure you get back.’
Reflection:
Jesus makes these statements just after his Sermon on the Plain in Luke’s Gospel. That sermon sums up the love, justice, and mercy of God. It may be worthwhile to reflect on the application of this passage to our everyday Christian lives. Perhaps this reading can remind us of our baptismal promises in which we respond affirmatively to the following questions within the Rite of Holy Baptism.
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
Within the context of our baptism we make a solemn pledge that because of what we say we believe about God-in-Christ we intend to try and live differently in the world. We intend to participate in bringing about of the reign of God by acting with charity, kindness, mercy and justice in a broken world. Pray this week that you may become more deeply aware of how God is asking you to live out these baptismal promises.
Dave Malek
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February 19, 2008
Tuesday of the Second Week of Lent
Is 1: 10, 16-20
Mt 23: 1-12
As children, we were taught by what we heard and saw and what we DIDN’T hear and see. And we also heard the saying “Do what I say!” We also learned the rest of that saying – “….not as I do.” How do we bring people to Jesus during this season of Lent? One way is by our example. Let’s break open that word as our Lenten meditation today:
Rosie RundellE is for exalt. Let us raise high our prayers as we prepare to celebrate the Paschal Mystery. Are we setting aside time each day to spend time with Jesus?
X is for the cross. Throughout this season, let us offer up our daily crosses as we meditate on the Stations of the Cross. Pray for someone whose crosses seem to be unbearable.
A is for almsgiving. The poor should always be in our prayers. Is your Rice Bowl in a prominent place at your table?
M is for mystery. We celebrate the great Paschal Mystery. How can we share our experience of Jesus’ dying and rising with those we love?
P is for penance. We have many opportunities to receive the Sacrament of Reconciliation. When is your parish’s celebration of Communal Penance?
L is for love. God expresses unconditional love for us everyday. How might we express our love of God during this joyful season of Lent?
E is for Eucharist. Let us give thanks for the opportunities to strengthen our relationship with Jesus through daily prayer or daily.
February 20, 2008
Wednesday of the Second Week of Lent
Jer 18: 18-20
Mt 20:17-28
They pop up frequently on magazine covers, in New Year’s resolutions, and in articles on stress reduction: “Learn to say ‘no!’” “Choose your activities wisely,” “Look before you say ‘yes’!” In our busy lives, many of us are ‘yes men’ and ‘yes women’ who can’t say no to anything we’re asked to do. I’m sure you can recall times you said ‘yes’ to something – a ministry commitment, a favor to a friend, a desperate plea for help on a work project – that ended up becoming much more than what you bargained for. The project leader quit, the dog you were watching ran away, one favor turned into twenty. And you resolve once more – “I’ll never do that again!”
We see a similar situation in the Gospel today. The mother of the sons of Zebedee, when faced with an incredible question from Jesus, “What do you wish?” does what many mothers would do – asks for something not for herself, but for her sons. But, as usual, she, and the disciples don’t really understand what they’re asking for – and that drinking the cup that Jesus drank would involve much more than they bargained for.
The disciples may not have ‘gotten it,’ but we’ve heard this message over and over again. Every morning that we get up and say ‘yes’ to being a disciple of Jesus, we know what we’re getting into – and we’re still in over our heads! It’s always more than what we bargained for – the charge to authentically forgive; the command to serve one another - even those who most get under our skin; the challenge to seek God in each other, rather than lording our definitive truth over another. It is too much for us – yet morning after morning we are asked, “Will you drink this cup?” Today, what will our answer be?
Janel Esker
February 21, 2008
Thursday of the Second Week of Lent
Jer 17: 5-10
Lk 16: 19-31
This parable story uses exaggeration and reversal to convey Gospel messages. There seem to be few details about the rich man–only that he dresses in purple (an expensive color to produce in those days) and that he dined very well every day. His foil is Lazarus, the poor man, miserable and hungry and diseased. When the tables are turned and both men have died, Lazarus is rewarded in the comfort of Abraham’s bosom while the rich man endures physical torment. But there is no overt mention of the rich man’s sin nor of the goodness of Lazarus—only that because Lazarus endured poverty and suffered, he is rewarded. The rich man makes a small demand for a bit of comfort, then asks that his brothers be given warning so that they won’t have to suffer as he. However, Abraham chides him that his brothers would not respond to Mosaic law or to the new law of love broadcast by Jesus, the one who came back from the dead.
At first, I found it easy to identify with the rich man. I saw that he cared about his family, just as I do and most people do. I missed his indifference—ignoring the poor everyday when even scraps from the bountiful table were not forthcoming. I missed his arrogance—requesting that Lazarus tend to him when Lazarus was at rest and in comfort. In the Beatitudes presented earlier in Luke, the message of Jesus calls me to care beyond family and friends and most especially to care for the poor and neglected. I am chided here—needing to pay more attention to the message and to consider—who do I care about and how do I exercise my concern?
Kathleen Tehan
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February 22, 2008
Feast of the Chair of St Peter
1 Pt 5: 1-4
Mt 16: 13-19
While on some well-deserved R&R in the vicinity of Caesarea Philippi with his friends, Jesus offered a simple toss up question to the Disciples: "Who do people say the Son of Man is?"
They shot back with all of the current data — John the Baptist, Elijah, Jeremiah. They didn’t even need to use a lifeline for this question. But the real question, the Million Dollar question came next — "What about you? Who do you say I am?"
In a moment of dazzling revelation Peter blurts out, "You are the Christ, the Son of the living God." Jesus was aware that Peter hadn’t answered alone — he had phoned a friend (better stated, a friend phone him) — and that friend was God. That’s the only way anyone can ever come to the same faith-filled understanding into Jesus’ true identity - it is a gift from God (see John 6:44).
But revelation’s a funny thing. It doesn’t force or change a person to believe something — it’s more like an invitation to belief. Just after sharing his God-given insight, Peter’s own hidden agenda nearly killed it. Peter’s immediate reaction to this death-talk was to recoil in a sense of horror. "Never, Lord! This shall never happen to you!"
Aye, there’s the rub. We all want a Divine Christ — but what do we do with a suffering Savior?
What if Jesus looked you square in the eye, and asked, “Who do you say I am?”
Rev. Fred Grewe
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February 23, 2008
Saturday of the Second Week of Lent
Mi 7: 14-15, 18-20
Lk 15: 1-3, 11-32
At my parish, we use this gospel to teach about the Sacrament of Reconciliation to the RCIA candidates and catechumens. It is an amazing parable about forgiveness and unconditional love. This one story offers us the opportunity to reflect upon our attitudes toward these virtues during the season of Lent. Close your eyes and put yourself in place of one of the characters.
Are you the father? How disappointed he must have felt when the younger son wanted to leave home. What disappointments have you recently experienced in your family life? Have you asked Jesus to soften your bruised heart? Can you let go of your sorrow?
Are you the son who wants to leave and asks for his share of the inheritance? What is unsettling in your life that would force you to make this kind of decision? Are you to searching for something more than Jesus? What might be the cure for your dis-ease?
Are you the son who stayed home? It might be easy to resonate with this disposition. Can you hear yourself saying “It isn’t fair?” “I deserve more than this!” How easy it is to fall into the trap of feeling taken for granted. Look for the root of this attitude.
Are you the servant who was asked to prepare the feast? Reflect upon the example set by your master. How can you explain the father’s unconditional love and forgiveness for his wayward son? Reflect on how you experience that same love and forgiveness in your life through the Sacrament of Reconciliation.
Pray to accept God’s unconditional love and forgiveness!
Rosie Rundell
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February 24, 2008
Third Sunday of Lent
Every once in a while I am reminded of a comment that Michael Jordan once made during a Nike commercial when he admitted that he probably failed as many times as he succeeded. Once in a while it’s obvious that I missed the mark. Recently that happened while I was attempting to minister to a group of 90 teenagers. It was late in the evening and they were in no mood to make connections between God’s love and a few current songs I had arranged on my MP3 player. The plan was simple and went steadily downhill after I was laughed at for mistakenly using the word “tune” instead of “song.” I knew it and so did they. It was an impossible connection to make with the material I had and approach that I tried to take. I also noticed that many of the teenagers seemed to have little spiritual formation or development.
Similar to the man who wants to cut down the fig tree, I felt as though I was that fig tree and I was staring at many fig trees that were also not bearing any fruit. In the worst way I wanted to dismiss us all and never return for any kind of ministry at that school. But in that moment I began to realize how patient God is. How God waits and lovingly uses time to help us bear fruit. That perhaps tomorrow is the day when someone might find a way to be more open to God’s loving guidance and begins to contribute to the harvest. Luke reminds us today that amidst God’s inevitable judgement we can be assured that God is patiently doing everything possible to lovingly and generously give us another chance to bear fruit. A reminder that God’s love continues to surround us in our more stubborn and confused moments. A reminder to us of how we might treat ourselves and each other in times of personal and communal failure.
Fr. Toby Collins, CR
February 25, 2008
Monday of the Third Week of Lent
“The truth hurts” could be the subtitle for today’s reading from 2 Kings and from the Gospel. Naaman sought healing from the prophet Elisha, approaching his quest with great reverence and sincerity – along with plenty of impressive gifts. When Elisha did not come out to even personally speak with the Syrian army commander, only sending a message that the leader should wash in the muddy Jordan, Naaman “went away angry.” Naaman’s hurt sense of pride, his resistance to humbly listen to the prophet’s truth, nearly prevented his healing of leprosy.
Jesus’ fellow believers were likewise in for a blistering blast of the truth – and it “filled them with fury.” While Naaman’s flesh-decaying disease was visible, those in the synagogue that day were afflicted with a hidden disease that was hardening their hearts, minds and souls. Jesus, like Elisha, offered words that were designed to heal and restore. Jesus’ sharp words of truth were like a surgeon’s scalpel, used precisely to cut away the insidious growth of self righteousness and the spirit of judgment. Unlike Naaman, those gathered in Nazareth that day were not open to this prophet’s truth.
If I find that I’m angry about something and avoiding Jesus is it because He’s speaking a word of truth to me that I’m refusing to listen? This Lent, may I remember Naaman who found healing through humble obedience.
Lorraine Senci
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February 26, 2008
Tuesday of the Third Week of Lent
Deut 3: 25, 34-43
Mt 18: 21-35
Why is it that it's such a relief to read a translation that claims our "forgiveness quota" is seventy-seven times instead of seventy-times-seven? Somehow it feels like we've been let off the hook just a little bit. But in reality we haven't, have we?
What exactly is it that makes forgiveness so hard? Is it the fear of conceding that we aren't right--or at least that we won't be perceived as right--or maybe that it allows somehow for the other person to be less wrong? Is it the desire not to let him "get away with something"? Is it wanting to hold on to a trump card for some future occasion? Is it more about fear or anger? Entitlement or inadequacy? Is it more about me or him?
Forgiveness is an intriguing notion. We can desire it, even will it, but that's not always enough to effect it. So what do today's Scriptures have to say about it? Today's translation of the Gospel says that the king forgave the debt. In listening to the servant the king was moved with compassion for the person and thus forgave his debt. Then, when that servant listened to his own debtor, he didn't hear the person but only related to the debt. The king's response? "Should you not have had pity on him?" Apparently the king was more concerned about the life situation of his servants than about the money. But if the servant was going to be concerned about the money, then the king would comply: "He handed him over to the torturers until he should pay back the whole debt." Forgiveness isn't about anything that's been done, this lesson teaches us. Forgiveness is about seeing the person in front of you regardless of what he's done and focusing on nothing but him.
So what is forgiveness all about then? Is it more about me or about him? Well, that's just it. It's all about me--and it's all about him. It's about us in relationship. And nothing else.
Virginia Herbers, ASCJ
February 27, 2008
Thursday of Third Week of Lent
The idea of being in debt is a familiar concept that most of us have experienced. With the cost of tuition, house payments/rent, insurance, food, clothes, credit cards, and nice gifts for the Dominicans, expenses can pile up very quickly. When it comes time to balance your budget, it is not difficult to see that the salary of Christian ministry does not always cover the financial expenses up front. What if Joe the repo man showed up on your doorstep as soon as you got home tonight and told you to pay all of your outstanding balances on the spot. How would you respond? A common response would likely be, “okay I am going to need a little bit of time”. I can imagine this type of response from a gangster movie. When we die, how are we going to tell God that we need a little more time? Through this parable, God is giving us the warning, a heads up and kick in the butt to forgive the sins of each other, before it is too late. God has already forgiven our sins through the death and resurrection of Christ, now it us up to us to be open to that forgiveness and to the forgiveness of others. Jesus the master story teller that he is, saves the knockout punch for the end when he says that we must forgive from the heart. Forgive not just seven times, but seventy seven times.
Br. Daniel Dougherty, OP
February 28, 2008
Friday of the Third Week of Lent
God speaks to us constantly, incessantly. He speaks to us through prophets and angels. He speaks to us through fire and flood. He speaks to us through wind and rain. God speaks to us constantly, incessantly. For our hunger and thirst He provides us with manna and pure clean water. For our loneliness He provides a helpmate and companion. For our sinfulness He provides a sacrifice. God speaks to us constantly, incessantly. Why do we turn our back to Him who was scourged for us? Why do we not hear the Word who made the mute speak? Why do we stiffen our necks to Him whose yoke is so light? Even the Apostle struggles with this question and states “I do not do what I want, but I do what I hate.” (Rom 7:15) How interesting that the answer, time and again, is simply to listen. “Listen to my voice.” (Jer 7:23) “Oh, that today you would hear his voice.” (Ps 95:7) This wise counsel sounds so simple and yet it is so hard to hear God amongst the cacophony of noise that surrounds us. Children pleading, parents advising, bosses suggesting, teachers instructing, friends chatting, trucks braking, car horns blaring, TVs laughing, radios serenading, and airplanes screaming. Maybe the desert experience is a blessing of the Lenten season because in the desert and its loud silence our ears are trained to listen once again. Once again we hear the snow singing beneath our feet. Once again we hear the music of the spheres. Once again we hear the voice of God whispering “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well pleased.” (Mt 3:17)
Br. Patrick Tobin, OP
February 29, 2008
Friday of Third Week of Lent
Ho 14: 2-10
Mk 12: 28-34
“Take with you words, and return to the LORD…” (Hosea 14: 3).
Ah, Hosea. That poignant book of the Bible that earnestly calls readers/hearers/believers to fidelity in the face of competing allurements. Isn’t this theme always in season?
We are catechized that at the heart of Lent lies metanoia—an about-face, conversion, turning, a deep-seated change in seeing and acting. What does Hosea say are the tools to make this “return” to the LORD? Words.
Words form us, shape us. Words can name and enhance our deepest longings, our greatest joys. Words can give voice to our repentance and recommitment and reconnection. Words can claim a redirection from settling for God-substitutes—the idolatry Hosea would have us abandon.
And God’s Word, active and effective, can heal a people’s “defections,” can restore fragrance and rootedness—and therefore fruitfulness, fulfillment.
Ron Knapp
March 1, 2008
Saturday of the Third Week of Lent
Ho 6:1-6
Lk 18: 9-14
Who is God? Who is the One we seek throughout our lives, in our theological studies, in our world’s ways, in hours of personal crises, in our daily prayer? Who is this God that led Thomas Aquinas to say his writings were all straw, and that agitated Richard Dawkins enough to write a denial at book-length? Who is this God that our hearts crave while our minds often turn querulous?
Some people know God. They are recognized for they appear grounded and sure and know peace. Hosea knew. He knew that God wanted to be known in God’s deepest Self. So he enjoins the people, “Let us know, let us strive to know the Lord, for …he will come to us like the rain, like the spring rain that waters the earth.” Hosea knew that God’s only desire is for us to know and understand God’s Being and ways. This means so much more than the sacrifices we could make. “For it is love that I desire, not sacrifice, and knowledge of God rather than holocausts.”
And the gospel of Luke shows us a successful but socially maligned tax-collector who knows God. In the text we see a man who knows God as steadfast, merciful love. The tax-collector recognizes his own sins and betrayals. Yet he acknowledges that God’s power is greater than any of his sins. While the tax collector knows himself as sinner; he also knows who God is—the One who pours out mercy on the People like the spring rain.
Mary Kay Oosdyke, OP
March 2, 2008
Fourth Sunday of Lent
1 Sam 16: 1b, 6-7, 10-13a
Eph 5: 8-14
Jn 9: 1-41
In today’s ultra-sensitive culture about germs and the passing on of diseases, Jesus’s method of healing the blind man in today’s gospels stands out like an infection ready to happen. Who among us would be thrilled to have someone’s saliva and dirt mixed and applied to our eyes, blind or not? This, however, is not the point of the story. I think we all get that there are two kinds of blindness being talked about, physical and spiritual. The obvious point of the story is that it’s better to be physically blind than spiritually, although both can be cured.
The not so obvious point of the story—or at least the point that stood out to me—is the need to be willing to witness to Christ’s saving intervention in our lives. I came to realize this when I recognized the fact that Jesus wasn’t the main character of the story, the cured man was. Three times the cured man is asked to repeat his story, and three times he tells it plainly. He faces the disbelief of his hearers, the disownment of his parents, and the condemnation of the religious authority, and still the man testifies to Jesus’s power.
Lent can be a time for us to renew our own commitment to testifying to God’s saving power in our lives. How many opportunities to tell others about the Father’s mercy, Jesus’s love, or the Holy Spirit’s guidance do we pass up each day? Are we too afraid of being doubted, disowned, or condemned? Let us then take the cured man as our example and testify anyway. In the end, like him, we will find the Lord waiting to teach us further truths.
Br. Paul Byrd, OP
March 3, 2008
Monday of the Fourth Week of Lent
St Joseph
Today we honor St. Joseph, the husband of the Blessed Virgin Mary. St. Joseph was called by God to serve Jesus through his fatherhood. The angel told Joseph “do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife into your home.” Joseph listened and trusted the angel. “Mary will bear a son and you are to name him Jesus, because he will save his people from their sins.” Joseph was also obedient and faithful to the angel. To summarize, Joseph was obedient, faithful, and submissive. This is a challenge in the Western world today, that as God speaks to us in whatever roles we have in people’s lives, it is important that we model Joseph and be obedient, faithful, submissive, and a good listener.
Prayer:
Almighty God, in your Infinite Wisdom and love,
You chose Joseph to be the husband of Mary, the mother of Your Son. As we enjoy His protection on earth, may we have the help of his prayers in heaven. We ask this through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. (Devotion to St. Joseph, Roman Missal, p. 2386)
Kay Gottrich
March 4, 2008
Tuesday of the Fourth Week of Lent
The series of events in today’s Gospel are very familiar: Jesus encounters a paralyzed man, engages him in conversation, heals him, and in so doing offends the crowds’ sensibilities. I would like to think this is just one more healing story among many…but it’s not. On second look, the interaction between Jesus and the sick man in the Gospel (his illness isn’t even specified!) resonates more than I’d care to admit. This pool seems to have been a place where all variety of sick came to be healed—our Gospel friend being but one among many. So why did Jesus single him out for healing? He had been sick for 38 years...waiting on his mat for 38 years because “I don’t have anyone to plunge me into the pool…[and besides]…By the time I get there someone else has gone in ahead of me.” I’m not sure the evangelist’s intention was to portray this man as a whiner, but that’s the impression given. He doesn’t ask Jesus for healing—Jesus asks him, “Do you want to be healed?” The answer? Not “Say but the word, Lord,” or “Master, you can do all things,” but “Woe is me! For 38 years I’ve been here all alone with no one to help me.”
Was this a healing miracle? Yes, but what exactly was the man’s illness? Ostensibly it was paralysis—but Scripture doesn’t say. Perhaps he was healed instead of his helplessness, a condition that had paralyzed his ability to claim the health and happiness that was his all along. 38 years of self-pity, blame, and resentment were wiped clean in one acknowledgement of Jesus that he did, in fact, have the ability to stand up and walk toward wholeness: “Get up; you can walk, you know.”
Today’s Gospel calls us to look at the areas of our lives that we whine about. Is it possible that Christ is saying to us, “Hey, do you even want to be healed? Get up, then—you’re able to stand. You always have been.” Lord Jesus, help us today to be healed of our helplessness.
Sr. Virginia Herbers, ASCJ
March 5, 2008
Wednesday of the Fourth Week of Lent
When I was ten, my father died suddenly of a heart attack. The days that followed were filled with flowers, cards and kind gestures of all sorts – but the one that has remained with me for the past 21 years is a card that my then Fourth grade teacher gave to me. On the front was the image of a child leaning into an adult hand. The verse on the inside read: “Could a mother forget her infant, be without tenderness for the child of her womb? Even should she forget, I will never forget you – I have carved you in the palm of my hand.” (Isaiah 49: 15-16)
Today we are presented with powerful images of the relationship of divine parent to child – the image of maternal God and child Israel in Isaiah, and the unique relationship of God the Father to Jesus the Son in John’s Gospel. The images are of complete dependence of child to parent – Israel is sustained only by the passionate love of God, and Jesus “cannot do anything” on his own, but is empowered through his utter dependence on his Father.
We certainly have our joys and struggles with our own parents, living or deceased, but we can’t deny the powerful influence they have had on our lives – for good or for bad. In our daily theologizing as an Aquinas community, do we sometimes forget the basic, yet powerful image of God as our first parent, as the one upon whom we are utterly and completely dependent? How might our life be different if we daily remembered upon whose hands our very selves are carved in remembrance and love?
Janel Esker
March 6, 2009
Thursday of the Fourth Week of Lent
The Israelites had Moses serving as their advocate and intermediary with God when they came close to incurring His wrath because of their inattention to Him and their depravity. God did relent, not inflicting the punishment he had threatened. Moses’ plea to God sounds much like a prayer of petition we might make today for ourselves or for others: “Let your blazing wrath die down; relent in punishing your people.” But much can also be seen in the cornerstone of Moses’ plea as he calls attention to those who came before and who had a special relationship with God: “Remember your servants Abraham, Isaac, and Israel” and then he “reminds” God of His promises to them.
We do not merit special rewards from God simply by being linked with those who came before but perhaps by reflecting on the good that our ancestors have done and the positive ways in which they led their lives we will avoid any alienation from God that we might otherwise incur.
Equally instructive are Jesus’ words as included in John’s Gospel today: “For if you had believed Moses, you would have believed me, because he wrote about me. But if you do not believe his writings, how will you believe my words?” A clear and strong direction for us to value our link to God found both in Scripture and in the tradition of our faith. How blessed we are to have these available to us. Especially in Lent we must turn to them to draw closer to our source of life, healing, and salvation.
Paul Angelis
March 7, 2008
Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent
Is 11: 18-20
Jn 7: 1-2, 25-30
You know...could you just lay low for a change, Jesus? Must you go around instigating the authorities, taunting the powers-that-be, "reproaching the wicked," and raising a ruckus? Must you insist on speaking out, speaking against, speaking up, and always speaking the truth? Life would be alot calmer, alot less troublesome, alot less difficult if you would just play nice.
Such is my immediate reaction to today's readings. It's no wonder he got himself killed, this Jesus of Nazareth. He did not have popular appeal among the people that counted, that's for sure. His was not a welcome message. His platform was anything but politically correct. His agenda was about as attractive as dirt. And he was so darn tenacious in proclaiming it! Things would have gone alot better for him if he had just been a little better behaved!
But those "things" certainly would have gone alot worse for us if he had been so. And that's the simple lesson of today's readings and maybe even all of Lent. The easy road is easy for a reason; the right one is right for a reason...and oh-so-rarely are they one and the same road. We are called Christians--those who claim Christ as our raison dêtre--and we must live a life worthy of that calling. Sometimes (more times than will likely be comfortable) that will require difficult things, unpopular assertions, baldly true attestations, and feather-ruffling stands. I'm not sure I'm up for that. But I do know that there's really only one other option and it's even less appealing: duplicity. Christ Jesus, grace me with strength to be authentic to who I am--yours.
Virginia Herbers, ASCJ
March 8, 2008
Saturday of the Fourth Week of Lent
This particular scripture brought me back to an encounter, I once experienced with a newly formed team preparing for an Advent event. The team had gone through the usual, forming, storming process and had finally reached the performing stage of group dynamics. During one of our sessions, we were rudely interrupted by two irate outsiders. Unaware of any particular incident, the team dismissed in a state of confusion.
In an effort to identify and resolve the matter, the team met the following week. In turn, each member was asked to recall the chain of events. When the turn came for the outsiders, they turned toward me and unleashed a brutal attack. I sat and listen in disbelief, for I had no idea what had occurred or what was behind these accusations. In that moment, I knew what Jeremiah was speaking of, I felt like that lamb being led to the slaughter. I had no idea that they were really planning to kill my spirit, destroy my relationship with the others and ruin my name. As the meeting closed, I asked the Lord to let me see justice as I offered an apology to the alleged ‘victims’, who later admitted they sought for placement in front, where they could be seen.
As I watch the event unfold and each person took their position, I couldn’t help but notice those ‘front’ spots were the furthest from the altar.
Cheryl Archibald
March 9, 2008
Fifth Sunday of Lent
The first reading today is from the book of the prophet Ezekiel. Ezekiel was a prophet who encountered a transcendent and powerful God, and he had many visions, many of which demanded that he act in a certain way, or give the Israelite people a certain message from God. Today we hear the end of the famous vision of the dried bones, dead and totally lifeless. As Ezekiel prophesies over the dried bones, flesh comes on them, but there is still no life. Ezekiel prophesies again, and the spirit of God comes into the bones and flesh, and a "vast army" of people arises. The vast army represents the house of Israel. In this short passage, the Hebrew word "ruah" is used at least seven times. The word means spirit, wind, or breath, and includes the spirit of God. The reading states God will call us from our graves, and put God's own spirit in us.
This is a great lead-in to the Gospel story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead. The sisters of Lazarus are full of grief at the death of their brother. Jesus is obviously very close friends with all three of them. Yet, he waits awhile to go the ninety or so miles from Galilee to Bethany in Judah, which is just east of Jerusalem. He waits because the Jewish people thought it took about three days for a person’s spirit to leave the body. It's as if Jesus wants to make sure everyone knows that Lazarus is completely dead. After greeting the sisters separately and going to the tomb, we hear that Jesus wept, and later, was perturbed. The Greek root word for these two verbs is enebrimesata, which literally means to "snort like a horse." Imagine how much Jesus must have loved Lazarus, and in that moment, hated the death that we all must incur if he was that grief-stricken. But therein lies the point. Jesus, through his life, death and ultimate resurrection, has redeemed and saved us not only from our sins, but also from the ravages of death. He proves that power by raising Lazarus. But Lazarus dies again, whereas we will live on forever in the kingdom, if we truly follow the Master's call. How many times are we lifeless, dead to God's spirit, and going about our own business instead of celebrating God, God’s life, and sharing such a wonderful truth by our actions and the way we lead our lives?
Mike Glotzbach
March 10, 2008
Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent
“Expect a miracle.” This saying is scrawled on the magnet stuck to my computer monitor. I purchased the magnet at Nazareth Farm in West Virginia during one of our spring break service trips. Nazareth Farm offers affordable home repair to the people throughout Doddridge County, WV, the poorest county in the United States. The farm does amazing work and the staff members truly believe that if every person working at the farm pays attention each day, they will encounter a miracle. And guess what?! With that type of attentiveness, miracles—unexpected experiences of God’s grace--are experienced daily!
The readings on this fifth Sunday of Lent remind us that God truly is a God of miracles, a God who can transform lives, communities, and institutions with mercy and love. In Isaiah God says to the Israelites, “See, I am doing something new! Now it springs forth, do you not perceive it?“ God puts water in the desert for the Israelites to drink. A “miracle!” In the gospel, the woman caught in the act of adultery is not stoned to death as the Law of Moses instructs, but rather, through the person of Jesus, she experiences God’s mercy, love and respect, which releases her from her sin and loosens the grip of the Pharisees. Another “miracle!”
Because of our busy, over-scheduled lives, we often miss the movement of the Spirit right in our midst. We need prophets to remind us that God is with us, constantly inviting us into a deeper, more loving relationship, constantly calling us to be a people of justice, of love, of truth. God gives us the water we need, offers us love, and calls us to relationship. In these final weeks of Lent, may these readings remind us that God’s grace is breaking into our lives, our communities, and our church--right now. Pay attention. Expect a miracle. The promise of Easter is on the horizon.
Sara O’Malley Bligh
March 11, 2008
Tuesday of the Fifth Week of Lent
“When you lift up the Son of Man, then you will realize that I AM, and that I do nothing on my own, but I say only what the Father taught me.”
As Moses lifted up a bronze serpent (still the symbol of medical healing), so Jesus is lifted up as the sacrament of God’s healing and unifying power. If he is lifted up, he promises, he will draw all to himself. We will, through his cross and exaltation (also a "lifting up"), be gathered into one new family of God. What in your life needs healing? Show your pain, sickness, and wounds to Jesus, our physician. What in our world needs healing and unifying? Offer the pain of the world, the suffering of people and all creation to God for transforming. Jesus had told the Pharisees that He was going away -- to a place they could not go – because of their sin. He was completing the work His Father had given Him. He had taught the people of the Father’s Love for all of the people, but not everyone believed Jesus. How important is our faith! When things go well it’s easy to trust, but when trials and troubles come our way, perhaps we fail to ask God’s help and pray with trust that God will hear us if we persevere in childlike dependence on our heavenly Father. Jesus’ death on the cross won for us all we will ever need. He was “lifted up” for each and all of us.
Phillip Lichtenwalter
March 12, 2008
Wednesday of the Fifth Week of Lent
The work of Moses is described in the first reading. Jesus mentions the work of Abraham in the gospel.
I am reminded of those who came before me, on whose faith I stand. At my mother’s wake, a crucifix was placed inside the lid of her casket, in plain view above her body. Her hands held a rosary. I stood beside her; suddenly I was overwhelmed with tears. I suppose those who saw me do this thought I was reacting to the reality of her death. What rose in me and caused those tears was intense gratitude. My mother, through her example and constant faith, had planted seeds of faith in me as well. She nurtured them as best she could. That moment found me intensely grateful for that gift, wondering where I would be without it.
Who told you Jesus loves you? Who has nurtured your faith?
Working with children in the Catechesis of the Good Shepherd has taught me 1) God loves me very much 2) God has a plan bigger and better than anything I can make up, or even imagine! Every day I ask God to give me the grace I need to build his Kingdom, especially in ways that take me by surprise.
Jesus invites the Jews to “do what you have heard from the Father” (John 8:38). What have you heard from God? What does God want you to do today?
Diane Olsen
March 13, 2008
Thursday of the Fifth Week of Lent
Since our goal as Christians is to imitate Christ, the question is: What must we do to know him and keep his word? As Jesus himself tells us in this pericope, “whoever keeps His word will never see death.”
The true kernel of the gospel is that Jesus knows the Father and through him others will know the Father. In order to know what God the Father is like, we need to talk with God the Son, because "no one knows the Father except the Son and to those to whom the Son chooses to reveal him.” And there are many who have formed close ties with the Son. These people who know the Son well are the "Saints." These Saints are the ones whose lives are a testimony to that. They know what the Son wants and they do it for the sake of the Son, because they know that only the Son can reveal the Father to them.
According to Luke’s gospel, Christ teaches us how to keep his word: "Blessed are those who hear the word of God and keep it" (Lk 11: 28). These words could be placed at the centre of our devotion to the figure of Mary most holy. More than Abraham and all saints combined, she is theicon of the perfect disciple and of holy Church. Mary is truly blessed, not merely because she bore and raised Jesus, but because she faithfully accepted the Lord's willand put it into practice. This is Mary's authentic greatness and her blessedness: “the blessedness of faith,”which opens our lives to the action of the Holy Spirit and enriches it with blessed fruits for the glory of God.
Therefore, like the saints, our chief effort should be to study the life of Jesus Christ during this period of Lent, to come to the truth of God the Father, the love of the Son and the sanctification of the Holy Spirit. For Christ teaching and way of life is more excellent than that of father Abraham. Thus, anyone who has his spirit will find in it a hidden manna. Today, there are many of us who hear the Gospel often but care little for it because we have not the spirit of Christ. Yet whoever wishes to know and keep fully the words of Christ must try to pattern his whole life on that of Christ.
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March 14, 2008
Friday of the Fifth Week of Lent
Jer 20:10-13
Jn 10:31-42
There is only one more week until the celebration of the Resurrection. Can you endure without ending your desert time early? With five weeks down and one week to go, it may seem like you are in the home stretch and the worst of lent is behind you. Today’s readings show us that the worst might not be behind us. Both Jeremiah and Jesus are in dire situations. Jeremiah who just admitted a few verses earlier that he gave into the Lord, (Jer. 20:7; “You duped me, O Lord, and I let myself be duped; you were too strong for me and you triumphed.”) After he gave into the Lord, all those who were with him are now against him. They want to see him fail. Jesus’ situation was not much better than Jeremiah’s. After Jesus preaches to the Jews, they pick up rocks to stone him. Rotten tomatoes would have been a welcomed relief for Jesus. As usual, Christ overcame the physical harm and triumphed. As our world continues to threaten us with failure, we are encouraged to keep our eyes focused on Christ’s triumph at the resurrection. Through our constant torments set by unachievable standards placed upon us every day by society, which tells us we are not smart enough, we are not good looking enough, and we are not valuable enough to succeed, we must not give in. As lent draws to a close, be fervent in the final week enduring the challenges set forth with the faith that through Christ, we will triumph at the time of the resurrection.
Daniel Dougherty, OP
March 15, 2008
Saturday of the Fifth Week of Lent
We are almost to Holy Week, and this great season of purification is almost over. Have our Lenten disciplines led us to a spirit of purification in preparation for Easter? However well I have done, I know I am still in need of greater purification.
My continued faults in this special season of purification tell me that I cannot purify myself. Thankfully, Scripture tells us that purification is actually God’s work. Today, God continues to do His work of cleansing, every time we hear those sacred words “I absolve you.”
As we reach this last week of Lent, may we be open to receive God’s purifying touch. With God’s help, we’ll be able to leave the our faults behind, as we quickly approach the empty tomb.
Jason Calvi
Palm Sunday is such an ironic celebration. On the one hand, Jesus is hailed and honored as King; he is preceded into Jerusalem with fanfare and ceremony. One almost gets the impression that this is a welcome home parade for a great hero.
The irony is the facts that even as the crowds are honoring him, they are also preparing to make him a scapegoat for their own sins. The palm leaves are stained with the blood of our own sins which we cannot bear. Along with the crowds, we are desperately trying to find a place to put our own embarrassing and humiliating actions, to find someone to take them away, to purge them, to relieve us of their memory. This is a typical psychological ploy, to “displace” anger or guilt onto someone else. But it also happens theologically and anthropologically. An entire people can deny its guilt and responsibility and blame others – or the other – for what we have done ourselves.
Fr. Charles Bouchard, OP
March 17, 2008
Monday of Holy Week
Is 42: 1-7
Jn 12: 1-11
Mary’s act of service, initially intended for Jesus alone, affected all those present and beyond in its remembrance. This passage has the potential to assist others in finding their purpose and confidence in their ministry by reflecting on the image of the permeating essence of the costly perfume.
The sense of smell is a powerful catalyst to my memory. The steam when I iron takes me back to my mother’s kitchen where we spent many afternoons talking while she did the ironing. I once again feel the closeness that we shared.
The line from John 12 which states, “The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume” called to mind an event from local folklore of Boston, Massachusetts. In January of 1919, a large molasses tank burst sending a massive wave of molasses into the streets of the North End. It is said that the smell lingered for many years and on a hot summer day you can still smell the molasses in this neighborhood.
Did the household of Lazarus have a similar experience with the extravagant, lavish pouring of the ointment of nard? Did it seep into the floor, perhaps into the dirt? Did days, months, or even years go by before the fragrance dissipated? How long did it linger in the memory of those gathered there that day? If they had an opportunity to smell the same perfume, were they transported back to that dinner, back into the presence of Jesus, and once again witnessing Mary’s ministry? What feelings did it inspire? In her book The Women Around Jesus, Elisabeth Moltmann-Wendel interprets Mary’s act of anointing Jesus this way:
She may not be good at words, but what she does without speaking and yet with great confidence has a spontaneous effect!... what she does, she does of her own accord…it is her idea, her way of showing love…she came out of the shadows to become totally herself.
I hope this passage calls you out of the shadows to become totally yourself with confidence to bring forth your gifts and talents. May it transcend your doubts and insecurities, and give birth to a spontaneous being.
Martha Rheaume
March 18, 2008
Tuesday of Holy Week
Isaiah assures us today of the Servant’s divine election, for “from my mother’s womb he gave me my name.” This is an important message for us to hear as the horror of the week’s end approaches. The constancy of God’s care spoken proclaimed by the prophet stands in sharp contrast to the scene found in John’s gospel, however. John is juxtaposed with Judas, and both offer very different visions of discipleship. John is the beloved who reclines on the Master’s breast, while Judas the purse keeper is the one “whom Satan has entered.” The Gospel doesn’t end with Judas’ departure, though. We are offered yet another model in Peter, whose inconstancy is tempered by his bravery and reckless loyalty. Most of us stand neither with Judas nor with John. Our sense of being beloved by God is sadly diminished by our own sinfulness and weakness. Yet we find it hard to identify with Judas out of love for the Lord. Most of us stand with Peter, brave in word but weak in deed, and often following from afar. Perhaps as we approach these last days of Holy Week it would be good for us to walk especially with Peter, who we know will deny his Lord, but will ultimately die for Him as well.
Br. Dominic McManus, OP
March 19, 2008
Wednesday of Holy Week
Is there any hope for Judas? Forgive your enemies. There is hope for Peter: Peter, do you love me? Feed my lambs. There is hope for the executioners: Father forgive them for they know not what they do Is Judas condemned because he did know? Woe to that one by whom the Son of Man is betrayed! It would have been better for that one not to have been born. How much did he really know? Like so many others, he looked for a messiah who would lift the burden of the Roman occupation. Was he deliberately blind? Or was his blindness concomitant with his intensity for freedom? Is Judas set up? The Son of Man goes as it is written of him. Judas sold Jesus, but in his remorse (contrition?) he tried to return the money, hoping to save Jesus’ life. Finally, his remorse (contrition) overwhelmed him. Is God’s love barred by disillusion, greed and despair?
We consider today the dramatic contradiction of betrayal revealed during a meal shared among intimates. The pain is unbearable. Even my dearest friend in whom I trusted, who ate of my bread, has lifted up the heel against me. Have you been there? How long did it take for your heart to mend? Jesus reveals to the disciples this first betrayal he will endure. Surely his heart must be broken. He knows—or suspects—there will be other betrayals: the flight of his friends, Peter’s denial. I wonder if he would have simply died of a broken heart if he knew of the greatest betrayal: My God, my God why have you forsaken me?
Sr. Pat Chaffee, OP
March 20, 2008
Holy Thursday
John 13:12-16
How are we fed? Where do we find our daily nourishment? Who offers us sustenance?
While the other three gospels describe the Eucharist, John substitutes the washing of the feet for the Eucharist to remind us that our works of service put us on a level with Jesus.
Jesus washed the feet of the disciples, put on his robe, and returned to the table, asking the riveting question, “Do you know what I have done to you?” He affirms their proclamations he is Teacher and Lord. However, the challenge he poses is this: “If I, your Lord and Teacher have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet.” The Gospel message that Servants are not greater than their master or messengers greater than the one who sent them brings us all together at the table.
Our nourishment and our sustenance can be that aspect of Christianity which invites all of us to meet the needs of others.
Donna Branca
When Pilate asked Jesus who he was, Jesus said, I AM. He didn’t say “I am the Son of God”, or list off all his accomplishments. He simply said, “I am.” Jesus died to his personal identity, which is the ultimate self-emptying. Thomas Keating, in The Mystery of Christ, states that : “ To become sin is to cease to be God’s Son --- or at least to cease to be conscious of being God’s Son”(p.62). Jesus died to being God, therefore God died. God died for us.
No words can describe this. I can only think of my daughter who is 12, and if she had to let go of her identity of being the daughter to me and her dad. She would be lost, hurting, crumbled. I stand before God, and say, “How could you let Jesus do this?”
God’s answer will always be, “I love you”. God has this unconditional love for us, that he allowed his Son, to be emptied of His relationship with God, so that we could be saved. There is no greater expression of agape than this. This type of love is inconceivable, and impossible for me to wrap my human brain around. Yet God still draws me into intimate relationship daily.
Holy God, we are so very thankful for giving us your Son, through this Ultimate Sacrifice. We will never be able to fully comprehend all that You have done for us through the Passion and Death of Jesus. Thank you for loving us with Your gracious, bottomless love, and may through our living and loving, may we honor Your most Holy name. Amen.
March 22, 2008
Holy Saturday
Mk 16-17
Exultet
Flint for the first flame of the night. A spark,
A distant star, and a cock crows at first.
light. Fire, in a flash of pain, sears
lips to proclaim the unthinkable: joy
tomorrow. Fiercer than any flame is love:
many waters cannot quench it. Over
the waters night fire runs, opening
a way. Come to the water, Lord Jesus.
Sr. Pat Chaffee, OP
At the early dawn on Sunday, we rise. We rise and hope to see something magnificent. We have submitted ourselves to weeks of discipline, or repeated attempts at discipline, or perhaps just the prick of our conscience that we ought to have had some discipline this Lent. We have kept watch with our Lord on that dark, that doleful night, when powers of earth and hell arose against the Son of God’s delight, and friends betrayed him to his foes. We have seen our Savior upon the Cross, undone by our treason, knowing it was we who denied him, we who crucified him. We have waited, desolate, on that long Sabbath while the whole world kept still, and kept vigil through that night to the joyful peals of bells on high, echoes of the shattering of the gates of brass, the cutting of bars of iron in the depths below. Now, in the early dawn we arise, only to find that the magnificent something has already come and gone. The happy signs of is passing are everywhere, to be sure. Like the colored and chocolate eggs left by the rabbit with his basket, or scattered by the cloche de Pâques, winging his way with gifts from the pope in Rome, the signs all point to a world made new by the rising of the dawn. Even so, we might wish to have seen his rising.
That, however, is not our Lord’s way. The turning point of all creation, when death itself worked backwards, when the creature of dust and earth lived again, when the dominion of Death, Hell, and Sin came crashing down, and Life himself sprang forth never to depart — this was a private spectacle, and intimate feat by the Son for the Father in the Spirit. Even then, only a few were let in on the secret. Mary saw the empty tomb and thought only of grave robbery, Peter ran but did not understand, and the Beloved believed, but did not see. When Mary later saw, the others did not, and had to rely on her word. Not even in the days following will everyone get a chance to see him: This man God raised on the third day and granted that he be visible, not to all the people, but to us, the witnesses chosen by God in advance, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead.
The Lord will not allow us a solitary joy on this the holiest of days. We must come together and hear those witnesses chosen by God. We must announce to one another how we too have rushed to the empty tomb, how we have seen, and believed.
Fr. Dominic Holtz, OP
Aquinas Institute of Theology
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