Sunday Readings
Next week I have a wedding in Georgia.
The following week I'm in Lourdes.
See you when I get back.
Do Not Be Disturbed

Goodness is a power that has no rival. Over the past 50 years or so, no one can seriously deny the attractive force of the person and the office of the Pope. Historically huge crowds prove it. And now that ‘Shepherd One’ has landed, millions want to know their place in all this. Whether with a ticket or a TV, there is a place for everyone. Do not be fooled: this is no mere celebrity or some sort of ‘holy road show.’ This is unique because it is yet another statement of the Gospel message of hope. Continuing the visionary pontificate of Pope John Paul the Great, we hear again the words of today’s Gospel: ‘Do not be afraid.’

What are we afraid of and why do we need to hear this message? We can begin with the massive security surrounding this visit and we are reminded that we live in a dangerous world. The vulnerable wound of 9-11 is so fresh that even the blue skies of Washington DC on Wednesday morning seemed a little too familiar. The world is, as it always has been, a place of war and conflicts. Add to this the instability of politics and the economy, and that message is even more relevant. But there is anther fear and one that goes deeper than these shifting things of the world.

It is the fear that there is no room for us, no place where we fit in. There is an unspoken dread that we would be without a ticket to heaven, that we would not be on the guest list to the heavenly banquet. And ultimately it is the anxiety that, in the end, it would truly be the end. Perhaps Jesus saw that in His disciples’ eyes the night before Good Friday. He may have seen a shimmer of this anxiety in their confused and frightened faces. As their friend and their God, He spoke to that darkness as He entered His own. And in the glory of the Easter Mystery, He sees it in us today. And like that first time, He says again “Do not be afraid” in the words of the Gospel or even in the smiling face of Pope Benedict.

Jesus says to us: You pray to be ‘protected from all anxiety’ and My Father has heard your prayer. I am your protection; I am your safety. I deliver you by My power as God made Man. I see you can be troubled and fearful. I know what you face but you fear that I don’t. Do not be afraid. You fear losing what you think you have but it was never really yours. What you have constructed is good; what My Father has built is better. Do not be afraid that your hut will be torn down by the winds of change; My Father has a mansion prepared for you. You’ve done well so far not because of what you have but because of who you are by grace. Could ‘circumstances possible change who you have become in Me?’

You desperately hold on to your fear because you think you have reason to be afraid. You may even fear me as God because you think your sins are too awful. Do not be afraid. Are you queasy over the future and see sickness, pain, and loss bearing down n you? Do not be afraid. Do you tremble at being told ‘no’ at the pearly gates? Do not be afraid.

Now, we can answer and say, “that’s easier said than done. True. That’s similar to what the disciples ask Jesus. It’s as if they said “Alright. We hear You: Do not be afraid. How?” And Jesus does not give them a magic formula or some mysterious incantation. He said that they already had faith in God but even more than a belief in a Divine Being, they had Him. He was their way out of fear. He was the truth of God’s love when they though it had disappeared. He was the life when they could only imagine its end. The answer to fear is not courage; it is hope.

Hope is the extraordinary way good people lead ordinary lives. Hope is a joyful defiance that says fear is real but useless. Heroes are hopeful more than they are brave. They do good but for a better reason. Hope doesn’t contribute to society as much as it seeks to change the world. It is childlike but never childish. It says that God is good even when life isn’t great. And hope is not some ideal like a classical stoic virtue. It is not some impossible dream found only by those who are searching for the Holy Grail or some other quest. Jesus tries to tell the disciples that they should have no fear because they have a relationship with the Father through Him. This is personal. It is about us and who we are. What we face and what we have can’t be compared to what we have become in the grace and mercy of the resurrected Christ.

Pope Benedict is speaking to a world, a nation and a city that doesn’t really believe this. And that is nothing new. The Gospel message is always repeated because humanity is never fully convinced that God will never forget us. We give in to the fear and discouragement that our failed efforts produce. In every age, the words of this Gospel need to be proclaimed and heard. “Do not let your hearts be troubled” is a rebel yell that says the victory of the Risen Christ is not merely an icon enshrined in more noble aspirations of the human heart. It was offered to us in the intimacy of a Passover supper. And it is still a hope offered over that same meal whether here or in St. Patrick’s Cathedral or even in Yankee Stadium.

Do not be afraid. Be hopeful. After all, God is.

Sunday Readings

TrustGate

Commitment’ is a word like ‘sacrifice’: we like it but would prefer not to live it. And there’s no fault to that. We like to think the best of others and hope the same of ourselves. And thankfully, many opportunities arise that prove we are capable of both. But although occasions in life demand it, we normally do not prefer it as a way of life. Even with this healthy desire to live free of difficulties, we value ‘personal investment’ on behalf of something worthy. If it is anything less, we appreciate the sentiment but never rely on it. Experience demonstrates disappointments as well as the possibilities of virtue.

And as people of faith, we have something truly reliable beyond our best efforts and our better selves. We have the risen Shepherd.

Today Jesus says that He is the gate. This is strange to our ears. In those days, sheep were kept in a circle made of a pile of stones and shrubs but that had a single breach as an entrance and exit. The shepherd would lead the sheep into this enclosure in the evening and would literally sleep in the breach through the night. Any predator would have to climb over the shepherd as would any wayward sheep if they tried to leave the protection of the sheepfold. In other words, harm would come to the sheep only over the shepherd’s dead body.

Well I guess we can see in the Easter season why this is rather appropriate. The Good Shepherd laid down His life on the cross and took it up again the glory of the resurrection. He proved His personal investment in us like no other. And because He lives forever, He still watches over us in the same way. He still offers Himself to keep harm and fear at a distance. And this is not a one-time thing reserved only for the last moments of life. This is mobile.

We all know the safety of a familiar place or secured building. We’ve seen it at airports and we’ll really know it when Pope Benedict arrives. But these are places and pre-determined locations. It’s another thing when we’re in a new place or new situation. We are anxious when surrounded by the challenging and unfamiliar. Well-known and trusted landmarks are gone. We feel vulnerable and rightly so.

Obviously I am not referring to just moving from one neighborhood to another. Life is too surprising to be that simple! We all know the trauma of new jobs, new homes, new health concerns and the like. I use the word ‘trauma’ not be dramatic but to be accurate. The scary realities and subsequent testings of change can take on a dangerous power that assaults our peace and happiness. And they can even take a shot at our faith. We can be set adrift and wander from God. We can be so buffeted by change that we can even start to doubt that God is holding us. Like the fearful disciples caught in the storm on the lake, He says to us “Peace, be still.” He sees the dangers threatening our serenity and says, “No further.” He stares at the fear and hopelessness aiming toward us and says, “over My dead – and now risen - Body.”

So long as we still hear His voice, we are the ones He protects. Even if we hear it from a distance or muffled by anxiety, we are the ones He guards. He has laid down His life for us and we are free to follow Him. He has promised that H will accompany us through the valleys and up the mountains.

The sheep in that safe and familiar place trust their situation. They see the familiar shepherd and hear the comfort of his voice telling them everything is fine. But when the sheep are on the move and in new places, they have to do something we all find difficult. They have to trust the shepherd. Trust is easy when things are orderly and calm. And few can say that of their lives. Actively or passively, life changes and we change. Even how we trust is never the same because the reasons why we trust in God (or not) are subject to the same mutations. Like love, trust is a dynamic that fluctuates but one thing remains constant: the one we trust, the one we love.

And God is constant. The Risen Shepherd always walks with us and calls us Even if our view of the shepherd is blocked by fear or confusion, He is still there. The twists and turns can dampen the sound of His Voice, but He still calls. The safety of His promise stands even if we stumble. So trust, then, is not automatic. It is a decision and not an easy one at that. It is repeated and repeated not because we are faithless but because life is relentless. Don’t worry about doing it well because what matters only is that God is good.

And Good Friday proved how serious He was about that. Easter says that he still is.

Sunday Readings

Together

If misery loves company, happiness demands it. There is a desire in our nature that wants to be a part of something greater, something larger. We find a strange comfort in a crowd even if we are there alone. When something goes wrong or there is sadness we gather and want to see other human beings. And when we are joyful or celebrating, we do the same. Just look at the mobs in Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Sure, there are few actually New Yorkers there, but we still want to see everyone making fools of themselves. It just the right thing, isn’t it? You can build a great stadium but without people, it’s a hunk of metal and concrete. Look at a beautiful cathedral devoid of worshippers and it is nothing more than a religious museum. The composer Leonard Bernstein once said that a pretty picture of a mountain may be nice, but if there is a person on that mountain, it becomes really beautiful. In a few days we’re going to see this as vast crowds fill Yankee Stadium, St. Patrick’s Cathedral and St. Joseph’s Seminary to worship and pray with Pope Benedict. Some complain that they cannot even pray in the Cathedral because of all the people in there. Some even say the same thing of their local parish.

But our Easter faith is the faith of a Church. These two disciples on the road to Emmaus return to be with others. They experience the Risen Christ in the Eucharist and are naturally and super-naturally drawn to the community of the same faith. Even Mary Magdalene had her personal experience with the risen Savior and returns to the Disciples. Peter’s witness is a proof. And suddenly, the formerly scattered, fearful and diverse gaggle is becoming a Church. The individual is never lost nor their experience discounted. But there is a certain lack of completion without the community. The same is true even now.

In today’s Gospel, Christ is found in three places. The first is the word of Scripture which points to the burning presence of Christ in our hearts. The second is the Eucharistic presence of Jesus when He is known to us in the breaking of the Bread. And the third is in the gathered Church. Back in Jerusalem there is a tremendous power in being together and it is to that assembly that the risen Christ appeared with His words of mercy. Yes, there are individual encounters with God that we all have because there are those moments of grace that impact us and shape us. And we hear stories of those who have had these and have left the Church. They seem to have resisted this pull to the Eucharist and the community for an individual faith in the word of God. Yet even this path leads to others at some point. When it comes to the Christian faith, no one is alone and no one is an island. If faith is Christian, both are impossible and even forbidden.

Pope Benedict once wrote that the Church itself is an object of faith. That is why we say “I believe in the Holy Catholic Church.” We don’t just give a nod to the institutional church as a convenient vehicle for transmitting a set of beliefs. It is a part of our religion because it is a revelation of the risen Christ. It is a security measure that holds our individual experience of God to account. It is the tangible gift that we are not alone. The disciples were despondent because they felt that they were alone without Jesus. The Risen Christ brings the Church together in the power of His glory and builds up the faith of the early Church.

Emmaus is such a rich Gospel because it speaks to the human soul so dramatically. We are normal human beings who have the normal human fear of being alone. In our search, we reach out and all over. We join clubs and form families. We go to parks and go online. Emmaus speaks to this longing because a grace of Easter is the presence of Jesus in the Church. It is more than a crowd or an organization. It is the Body of Christ. It is a sacrament in that it communicates the grace it signifies. It says that we are not alone or left to forge our own faith. It gives the witness of saints and sages to the working of God in the world and in the individual. And it is worthy of trust.

Yes the structures and operations of the Church, both local and global, may change. Buildings are constructed and torn down, schools opened and shut. That is the human element to the Church that changes with the times and the needs of our world. But we can never rightly confuse the two. Many have when a familiar institution goes under and they abandon their faith. This has always been a part of our history. There was a crowd that could not have been too happy that things were moving from Jerusalem to Antioch. I guess they reminisced over the “god old days” – until the Romans destroyed the city.

Is our Church organization perfect? In matters of faith it is, but not in how we live and promote it. We are imperfect beings handling amazing grace. Mere mortals influence eternity itself in what we do and in what we fail to do in this life. As Maximus says in Gladiator, “What we do in life echoes in eternity.”

Our Church is a gift of the eternal God to the most mortal of people. It is a mystery that is a place of peace, not a puzzle to be solved. We find comfort and grace in the Church because it is there we find the Risen Christ as these two did. It is where we find the Eucharist and hear the word of God proclaimed. And whether or not we know the names of those we pray with, one thing remains indisputable. By grace we are not alone and in this hope we are saved.