Year C Ascension of the Lord

Readings: Acts 1:1-11; Ps 47:2-3.6-9; Hebrews 9:24-28.10:19-23; Luke 24:46-53

Today we observe the Lord’s Ascension. Traditionally, and still for most Catholics throughout the world, Ascension is observed forty days after Easter. This means that it is ordinarily celebrated on Thursday during the Sixth Week of Easter. Because it comes directly from the scriptures, this liturgical arithmetic is important.

Forty has a particular significance in Sacred Scripture. For example, after being liberated from Egypt, the Israelites spent forty years in the desert before crossing the Jordan and entering the Promised Land. In a kind of recapitulation, Jesus spent forty days and nights fasting, praying, and being tempted by the devil in the desert before being baptized by John in the same Jordan River. His baptism was the start of his public ministry. In our first reading, the inspired author (who also wrote Luke’s Gospel) asserts that for forty days after he was resurrected, Jesus continued to appear to the apostles.

During those forty days, we learn, Jesus spoke to the apostles “about the kingdom of God.”¹ The risen Lord’s teaching during this time is sometimes called “The Gospel of the Forty Days.” What is truly astounding is that, despite being instructed in person by their resurrected Master, the apostles still didn’t understand the kingdom of God. Proof of this is their question to him: “Lord, are you at this time going to restore the kingdom to Israel?”²

Notice that while he instructed them about “the kingdom of God,” they asked him when he was going to restore the “kingdom to Israel.” What they failed to grasp is that these are two different things. One, the kingdom of Israel, is a political entity. The other, the kingdom of God, is not. I think this is instructive for those today who lament the loss of Christendom. Christendom and Christianity differ in the same way as the kingdom of Israel and the kingdom of God differ.

Theologically, it is important to grasp that Jesus did not ascend in order to distance himself from us. On the contrary, he ascended so he can be closer to us than if he had remained. So, it is significant when, in our reading from Acts, Jesus promises his apostles that “in a few days you will be baptized with the holy Spirit.”³

Believe it or not, next Sunday will be fifty days since Easter Sunday. On that day we’ll celebrate Pentecost. Pentecost, which is the most important celebration of liturgical year after Easter, marks the beginning of the Church. The foundation of the Church, the Body of Christ, is part of the resurrection event. It was on the first Christian Pentecost, in fulfillment of the Lord’s promise, that the apostles, Mary, and other disciples were “baptized with the Holy Spirit.”⁴

Why do I say, “first Christian Pentecost”? I say that because Pentecost, which is Greek for “fifty days,” was how the word used by Greek-speaking Jews to refer to their feast of Shavuot. Shavuot, or Pentecost, is fifty days after Passover. It is on Shavuot that observant Jews commemorate God giving the Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai.

It is also important to understand theologically that the Holy Spirit is the mode of Christ’s resurrection presence between his ascension and his return. And so, it is through the Holy Spirit that Christ remains present among us, in us, and through us. The Holy Spirit is the mode, the way, the means through which Christ becomes closer to us than if he had remained. This is made very concrete when you think about receiving holy communion.

The Ascension, by Benjamin West, 1801

In our celebration of the Eucharist, the Holy Spirit does not only transform the bread and the wine. Through our communion with the body and blood of Christ, the Holy Spirit transforms us into Christ’s Body. In turn, filled with the Holy Spirit, we are sent to extend Christ’s resurrected presence to wherever we are. This is really what it means to be a Christian. This is why participating in the Eucharist, especially the Sunday Eucharist, is so vitally important, not only for us but for the redemption of the world.

These days it seems we experience weekly, if not daily, a deluge of bad news. These past few weeks our nation has been traumatized again by mass shootings in Buffalo, New York and Uvalde, Texas. These and other events reveal how badly the world needs to be redeemed. How badly everyone needs genuine hope. As Christians, we are called to be agents of the hope God gives us through Christ by the power of their Holy Spirit.

For those who pray the Blessed Virgin’s Rosary regularly, you know that Jesus’ ascension is the second Glorious Mystery. You also know that the fruit of this mystery is hope. At least in Christian terms, hope is not mere wishing. Rather hope arises through experience.

Experiencing our mortality, our finitude, prompts the question: Is this all there is? Genuine hope can only be seen through the lens of the Paschal Mystery of Christ. In short, the Paschal Mystery is: Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again. Saint Paul, I think, explains well the point I am trying to make:

we even boast of our afflictions, knowing that affliction produces endurance, and endurance, proven character, and proven character, hope, and hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out into our hearts through the holy Spirit that has been given to us⁵

This is also highlighted when one of the men in white asks those who were witnessing Jesus ascending why they were just standing there looking up. By then pointing out that Christ will come again, he seeks to draw their attention to the time between now and his return. The question is clear: How are we to live in this mean-time?

Our faith requires us to hold things in tension: three and one, human and divine, virgin and mother, etc. While, as the liturgy puts it, we “await the blessed hope and the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ,” we must recognize that he is with us and has never abandoned us.⁶ Not only that, but that he seeks to dwell in us so he can act through us. Because of this, God’s kingdom, while not yet fully established, is never absent.

As Christians, we are to live God’s kingdom as a present reality, not as a dream deferred. This is the difference between hoping and wishing. It is how we “hold unwaveringly to our confession that gives us hope.”⁷ Passively awaiting the arrival of God’s kingdom is the result of failing to recognize it has already been inaugurated, is now present, and, by virtue of your baptism, elicits your participation. To think God’s kingdom will take the form of a restored Christendom is, like the apostles at the Ascension, to miss the point and maybe to ultimately miss the boat.

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1 Acts 1:3.^↩
2 Acts 1:6.^↩
3 Acts 1:5.^↩
4 See Acts 2:1-13.^↩
5 Romans 5:3-5.^↩
6 Roman Missal, The Order of Mass, Communion Rite, sec. 125.^↩
7 Hebrews 10:23.^↩

Sixth Monday of Easter

Readings: Acts 16:11-15; Ps 149:1-6.9; John 15:26-16:4a

Among the reasons Christianity is not hereditary is that it is an error to reduce Christian faith to morality or to "values". It's true that God has no grandchildren. This is why, during the crisis experienced by the early Church as a result of the influx of Gentile members, Paul and Barnabas, the chief evangelizers of the Gentiles, insisted so vehemently that these Christians had no need to keep the Jewish law.

In his First Letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul pushed back against the decree of the somewhat anachronistically named "Council of Jerusalem" that stipulated Gentile Christians could not eat meat sacrificed to idols.¹ In the eighth chapter of First Corinthians, written some time after he and Barnabas took their case to Jerusalem, Paul wrote that the only reason not to eat such meat is if it would undermine the faith of a new or perhaps a Jewish Christian. Otherwise, due to the fact that there is only one God living and true, the apostle saw nothing wrong with it.²

Why was eating sacrificed meat such a big deal? One reason is that, unlike our culture today, meat did not make up a large part of the diet of ancient Mediterranean people, especially the poor. Major pagan festivals were huge celebrations. After the animals were ritually sacrificed, the meat was made available to people who did not often eat meat.

What this means is that for Christians it is faith that matters, not rules that are handed down. Christianity is not now nor has it ever been a religion that mainly consists of keeping rules. In his Letter to the Romans, Paul insists that "whatever... commandment[s] there may be, are summed up in this saying, 'You shall love your neighbor as yourself.' Love does no evil to the neighbor; hence, love is the fulfillment of the law."³ Love is the fruit of faith.

This leads us to the conversion of Lydia. Along with her household, this wealthy merchant woman was converted by Saint Paul's preaching about Christ. According this passage from Acts, she was converted on-the-spot. It's unclear whether she along with members of her household were immediately baptized in the river, on the banks of which they encountered Paul and his companions.

Conversion is the result of faith. As such, it is the work of the Holy Spirit. It bears repeating that the Holy Spirit is the mode of Christ's resurrection presence among, in, and through us until he comes again. Christ did not ascend to distance himself from us. He ascended to draw nearer to us than he could ever be if he had remained. "Near" doesn't accurately capture how the Spirit relates us to the risen Christ. It is by the power of the Spirit that Christ comes to be in and among us.

It is by the power of the Spirit that the bread and wine become for us Christ's body and blood. By our reception of Christ's mystical body we, the Church, become Christ's true body. In what is often called his High Priestly Prayer, which is the Gospel of John's version of the prayer in the garden at the beginning of his passion, Jesus says how those who believe in him become one in and through him. Praying to the Father in the power of the Spirit, Jesus asks, with reference to his disciples, "that they may be one, as you, Father, are in me and I in you, that they may also be in us, that the world may believe that you sent me."⁴

How does Christ come to be in us? By the power of the Holy Spirit. This becomes a profound reality in the Eucharist.

This is where what Jesus says in today's Gospel becomes vitally important. It brings us back to sacrifice. In the Eucharist Christ gives himself to us wholly. In the Eucharist there is an exchane of gifts. This exchange, at least at Sunday Mass and Masses on solemnities, is symbolized by the gifts of bread and wine, along with the collection, being presented at the altar. These gifts are symbolic of our very selves.

When it comes martyrs, like Paul, they become an offering to God, but not a sacrifice made to God by their enemies. In most cases, their they offered themselves God over and over long before their martyrdom. To be converted is to offer yourself to God through Christ body, blood, soul, and humanity. The Holy Spirit is the medium through whom you do this.

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1 Acts 15:23-29.^↩
2 1 Corinthians 8:7-13.^↩
3 Romans 13:9b-10.^↩
4 John 17:21.^↩

Yes, it's about love, again

Readings: Acts 15:1-2.22-29; Ps 62:2-3.6-6.8; Revelation 21:10-14.22-23; John 14:23-29

To keep the Lord's word, you must know what his word is. In the context of Saint John's Gospel Jesus gave that word earlier in the same discourse that our Gospel reading for this Fifth Sunday of Easter is taken. It is a "new" commandment: "As I have loved you, so you also should love one another" (John 13:34).

I know this sounds repetitive. But look around the Church today. How well do you think we're keeping Jesus' word? More importantly, how well are you keeping his word?

In today's Gospel, Jesus foretells his sending of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, the Paraclete. Is it the "job" of the Holy Spirit to reveal new things? According to Jesus, it is not. What the Holy Spirit does is remind of Jesus' word that we are to "keep".

Because it has been reduced to the idealistic, so-called romantic variety, the word love fails to resonate the way it should. In our passage from John, the word "love," in its original Greek, is the verb agape, in its appropriate form is used. Along with philos and eros, it is one of the words translated into English as love. Philia is the word for the love between friends. Aristotle held that philia is the highest form of love. By contrast, the romantic love to which our singular English word has been reduced is a kind of eros.

Agape refers to self-giving/self-sacrificing love. According to the theology found in the Gospel According to Saint John, Christ hanging on the cross is the supreme act of agape. This is why elsewhere in this Gospel Jesus says, "And when I am lifted up from the earth, I will draw everyone to myself" (John 12:32) and why he tells his disciples: "No one has greater love than this,j to lay down one’s life for one’s friends" (John 15:13). He follows this by telling his followers- "You are my friends if you do what I command you" (John 15:14). He commands his followers to love one another in the same manner he loves each of them.

Let's be honest. It's the most difficult thing he could command us to do. It's much easier to keep a bunch of rules, which we can habituate and obey almost without thinking. Because each person and each situation are different, loving others as Jesus loves them always requires discernment and intentionality. To be holy means nothing apart from loving perfectly.

What I am trying to explain is exemplified very well in our first reading, taken from the Acts of the Apostles. In this passage, we hear about the anachronistically named "Council of Jerusalem." The dispute was about whether Gentile converts were required to keep the Law, to adhere to the rules laid down in the Torah. Specifically, it had to do with whether male Gentile converts had to be circumcised and whether all Gentile converts had to adhere to the Jewish dietary laws. In the end, it was determined that circumcision was not required. Neither was adhering to the Jewish dietary laws. Gentile Christians were to avoid eating meat sacrificed to idols and to adhere to the rules on marriage laid down in the Torah.

Despite it being determined quite early on, this dispute continued to pop-up in the communities founded by Paul, in which Gentiles were likely the majority. But in the eighth chapter of his First Letter to the Corinthians, Paul writes that eating meat sacrificed to idols is okay, but with an important caveat. (1 Corinthians 8). What is the caveat? His caveat is that by so doing you do not undermine the faith of someone else. It's about self-giving care and concern for someone else. At the same time, there were those, who came to be known as "Judaizers," who persisted in the belief that male Gentile converts needed to be circumcised and that all Gentile converts needed to obey the Torah (See Galatians).

Towards the end of his Letter to the Galatians, Paul exhorts these Christians:

For you were called for freedom, brothers. But do not use this freedom as an opportunity for the flesh; rather, serve one another through love. For the whole law is fulfilled in one statement, namely, “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” But if you go on biting and devouring one another, beware that you are not consumed by one another (Galatians 5:13-15)

Another case-in-point of plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose (i.e., the more things change, the more they stay the same).

The Holy Spirit reminds us, again, in these readings, of what Jesus asked us, as his followers, to observe.

Year II Fifth Monday of Easter

Readings: Acts 14:5-18; Ps 115:1-4.15-16; John 14:21-26

Idolatry still exists today. It even exists among Christians. Idolatry happens when you make anything other than the Gospel of Jesus Christ the basis of your life.

Politics is a great example: you don’t evaluate Church teaching on the basis of an ideology or political program be it of the right or of the left. Rather, as Catholics, we evaluate politics through the lens of Church teaching, properly understood and appropriated. When you do this in a serious way (as opposed to the superficial manner used by various individuals and groups with agendas), you find that there is no political party you can support as a Catholic without serious misgivings. To secular-minded people, both conservative and liberal, Catholics might seem a bit politically incoherent.

The criterion set forth by the Gospel is love. The Greek word for love in our Gospel today is agape. Agape is self-giving/self-sacrificing love. Agape love is putting the good of the other before your own. As Jesus indicates in our Gospel, taken from Saint John’s Last Supper Discourse, we need to be reminded to love in a self-giving way. So, he sent the Holy Spirit.

The Holy Spirit is way Christ remains present among, in, and through us until he comes again. Being loving always requires discernment on how best to love in a given situation. Discernment requires reliance on the Holy Spirit. The ability to rely on the Holy Spirit is something that happens through prayer, fasting, and experience, even when your experience is that of failing to love.

Paul and Barnabas in Lystra, by Nicolaes Berchem, 1650

By what power do you think Paul healed the lame man in our first reading? He healed him by the same power that brought Jesus back from the dead. What is that power if not the power of love, of agape?

In the Act of Contrition, which we say between confessing our sins and receiving absolution, we admit that “in choosing to do wrong and failing to do good I have sinned against [God], whom I should love above all things.” Sin does not consist of breaking rules. Such a view of sin is simply not Christian. In fact, one might say such a perspective is idolatrous- the worship of rules. Something at which Jesus often took aim and of which he was very critical. Sin then, as the Act of Contrition indicates, is a failure to love God and/or neighbor.

This is verified when, looking back in the Gospel of John, to part of the passage that constituted our Gospel reading yesterday, one sees the commandment to which Jesus refers in our Gospel this evening, which comes from the very next chapter of John: “I give you a new commandment: love one another. As I have loved you, so you also should love one another. This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”¹ This and nothing else is how we love Christ.

Looking deeper into the Johannine corpus, which is the Gospel According to Saint John and the first, second, and third letters of John, we learn:

If anyone says, “I love God,” but hates his brother, he is a liar; for whoever does not love a brother whom he has seen cannot love God whom he has not seen. This is the commandment we have from him: whoever loves God must also love his brother²

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1 John 13:34-35.^↩
2 1 John 4:20-21.^↩

"Behold, I make all things new"

This Sunday's readings, far from being disparate, constitute a unified whole. I don't think this is evident at a glance. So, in this reflection I seek to bring the unifying thread to the fore.

Revelation 21:1-5a- The city of God comes down from heaven. We don't go up. There is probably no worse distortion of Christianity than the idea that heaven is up there somewhere. Believing in the resurrection means believing that human beings are embodied beings, not disembodied spirits. Hence, there has to be a place for us to dwell. That place, according to the New Testament and the beliefs of the ancient Church, is earth. In short, how we live now matters. We can't disconnect life from salvation. Going up to heaven is not a reward for good behavior down below. Besides, such a market exchange understanding of salvation is inimical to Christianity. The last line of the passage that constitutes this reading serves as a key: "Behold, I make all things new." Pope Francis' encyclical Laudato 'si profoundly deals with this reality.

John 13:31-33a.34-35- Love, agape, is how we are to live now and forever. The mission of the Church, the mission of Christians, that which we are sent forth to accomplish at the end of every Mass, is to make make God's kingdom a present reality. This means making heaven present here and now. Agape, best described as self-giving/self-sacrificing love, is the means by which we accomplish this is in the concrete circumstances of our daily lives. Loving one another as Christ loves us is its own reward. "God is love" (1 John 4:8.16). Loving others is how we make God's kingdom present now. It is practice for the heaven on earth that is to come. In other words, if you don't like living this way now, what makes you think you're going to like living this way forever?

Acts 14:21-27- Paul and Barnabas take up the mission of spreading the Good News of God's love given us in Christ. They do so by the power of the Holy Spirit. What they experience they also teach: "It is necessary for us to undergo many hardships to enter the kingdom of God." To love is to make yourself vulnerable. If to live is to suffer, at least to some extent, then to love is to suffer, as we all know. Love entails a risk.

Paraphrasing the late Dominican theologian Herbert McCabe: If you refuse to love, you're already dead. If you choose to love, they'll kill you. While loving others in a Christlike way may not expose you to the risk of being put to death, it is how you die so you can live the new life you received when you were baptized. Being a Christian means to become selfless in the service of others, especially those in need. A fine example of what McCabe was getting at are these well-known words of the Archbishop Hélder Câmara: When I feed the poor, they call me saint. When I ask why they're poor, they call me a communist. Aquinas, taking his cue from Saint Paul, noted that love is to put the good of the other person before your own. Simple to say, hard to do. But maybe I am projecting.

It means something quite specific to insist that "God’s dwelling is with the human race." It points to something quite profound to say that God will dwell with us and that "God himself will always be with [us] as [our] God." Far from being a rhetorical flourish, this is deep theology.

Year C Fourth Sunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 13:14.43-52; Ps 100:1-3.5; Rev 7:9.14b-17; John 10:27-30

The Fourth Sunday of Easter is known as “Good Shepherd Sunday.” It is on Good Shepherd Sunday that the Church celebrates the annual World Day of Prayer for Vocations. All too frequently, for Catholics, the word “vocation” means only two things: the call to become either a priest or a consecrated member of a religious order.

Vocation comes from the Latin word vocare, a verb meaning “to call,” In the context of our faith, it means to discern or figure out how best to serve God. In Baptism you’re called. In Confirmation you’re strengthened for your call. At the end of every Mass, nourished by the Eucharist, you’re sent to fulfill your calling.

There is only one Christian vocation. It’s given to you in Baptism: follow Christ. This is your call, my call, Father Andrzej’s call, the call of Bishop Solis and Pope Francis too. It’s easy to forget that it is not the sacrament of Orders but the sacrament of Baptism that is the fundamental sacrament of Christian life.

When the ordained vest for Mass, the first liturgical vestment we put on is an alb. Albs are white because they are baptismal garments. Over the alb goes the stole, a symbol of ordination. Over the stole goes the distinctive vestment of office: a chasuble for bishops and priests or a dalmatic for deacons. Baptism is the foundation of the sacrament of Orders.

Just as hope is the flower of faith and charity is their fruit, Baptism is the font from which all Christian vocations flow. The Church is the field watered by those who faithfully respond to God’s call. And the world is the recipient of the bountiful harvest.

What the world needs now is not finger-wagging moralists, “prophets of gloom,” or culture warriors who engage in endless and fruitless political and ideological battles. What the world needs to experience is the witness of the new life you received in Baptism. The Fruits of the Spirit, which are born from the Spirit’s sevenfold gifts, are what characterize Christian life: charity, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, generosity, gentleness, faithfulness, modesty, self-control, and chastity.¹

Pope Saint Paul VI noted that the Church’s “first means of evangelization is the witness of an authentically Christian life, given over to God in a communion that nothing should destroy and at the same time given to one’s neighbor with limitless zeal.”² Each day, each moment is the decisive time for Christian witness. Each moment of witness is an occasion for Spirit-led discernment.

Considering this, the important question for all of us together and each of us individually is- What is God calling me to? If your first vocation, received in Baptism and reissued and strengthened by Confirmation, is to follow Christ, your secondary vocation is to determine to which state of life you are called.

Yes, priesthood is a vocation. Religious life is a vocation. But married and family life is also a vocation. Being single and not ordained and not belonging to a religious order can also be a vocation.

For most Catholics, your tertiary vocation is what you do for a living. Yes, your secular work, where you spend a lot of time, engage with people and, hopefully, strive to make the world a better place, should be part of your baptismal vocation. As Christians we seek to live integrated, not compartmented, lives. At the beginning of the chapter entitled “The Laity,” the Second Vatican Council’s Dogmatic Constitution on the Church, Lumen Gentium, teaches that “the laity, by their very vocation, seek the kingdom of God by engaging in temporal affairs and by ordering them according to the plan of God.”³

The laity, that is, baptized and confirmed members of the Church who are not ordained and who do not belong to religious orders, the Constitution continues,

are called by God that by exercising their proper function and led by the spirit of the Gospel they may work for the sanctification of the world from within as a leaven. In this way they may make Christ known to others, especially by the testimony of a life resplendent in faith, hope and charity⁴

By way of example, it’s been noted that the Christian shoemaker does his Christian duty not by putting little crosses on the shoes, but by making good shoes. This is one way a Christian gives glory to God in all things.

It's easy to see that the scriptural metaphor of sheep, even when written as coming from the mouth of Jesus, as in today’s Gospel, has its limits. While discerning one’s vocation is to seek to follow Christ, it is not a mindless, sheep-like undertaking. On the contrary, it requires the discerning person to engage with her/his entire being. Discernment starts with considering what you like, what you’re good at, and, yes, considering what you want, as long as what you really want is to do God’s will.

One of three kinds of people Saint Ignatius of Loyola identifies in the part of his Spiritual Exercises devoted to the process of prayerful discernment is the person who does everything except the one thing necessary.⁵ What is the one necessary thing, according to Saint Ignatius? The one thing necessary is not only to discern but to do God’s will. It is only by freely doing God’s will, Ignatius insisted, that you attain interior freedom.

Seeking to discover God’s call is an act of love. How better to love God “with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind” than by seeking God’s will for your life?⁶ What better way of loving your neighbor as you love yourself than by faithfully living out your God-given call?⁷

Echoing words Bishop Solis’ words to the young people of our parish who were confirmed in this church on Friday, for those of you here who are still deciding your state of life and/or your educational and vocational future, I urge you to give some thought, just some thought and maybe some prayer to whether you are called to the priesthood or religious life. No matter what, prayerfully and in collaboration with your parents, teachers, mentors, godparents, confirmation sponsors, and other trusted people, seek God’s will for your life. Then, trusting God, take the risk, and set out to do it.

Our second reading today, taken from the Book of Revelation, provides us with what we might call “a mystical glimpse” of the destiny awaiting those who respond and are faithful to God’s call. What else can the washing and the wearing of white robes symbolize except Baptism?

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1 Compendium of the Catechism of the Catholic Church, sec. 390.^↩
2 Pope Paul VI. Apostolic Exhortation Evangelii Nuntiandi, sec. 41.^↩
3 Second Vatican Ecumenical Council, Dogmatic Constitution on the Church [Lumen Gentium], sec. 31.^↩
4 Ibid.^↩
5 Saint Ignatius of Loyola, Spiritual Exercises, sec. 149-155.^↩
6 Matthew 22:37.^↩
7 Matthew 22:39.^↩

On the potential overturning of Roe v. Wade

If what was leaked from SCOTUS yesterday is true and Roe v. Wade is going to be overturned, it is a not a time for triumphalism by those who have worked to overturn it. Rather, it's time to take up the responsibilities opponents of Roe have had all along. Foremost among these is materially assisting women and children, ensuring that they're housed, fed, clothed, and have access to healthcare. During the long regime of Roe, these social policies have proven effective at reducing abortions.

Especially if you are a Christian, gaining a legislative victory cannot be the end you seek. Such an outcome can be but a means to the end of creating a civilization of love. Pope John Paul II did not contrast what he called a "culture of death" with a culture of life. Rather, he advocated for building "an authentic civilization of truth and love" (Evangelium Vitae, sec. 6).

In short, overturning Roe returns abortion back to the democratic process. At least in the beginning, it becomes a matter for the states. While there will be states like Oklahoma, Alabama, South Dakota, etc. that effectively ban abortion, there will be other states that either codify Roe, as New York has already done in anticipation of it being overturned, or even expand abortion. So, the outcome is far more complex than many have assumed.

While this is an immensely difficult issue for women- those on both sides of the abortion debate- many legal scholars here and abroad have noted over the years that the fundamental problem with the abortion settlement in the U.S. is that it was made by judicial fiat and not democratically. Again, if/when the anticipated decision is handed down, it simply returns the matter to the people.

In case you haven't noticed, democracy is a messy business. Demonstrations resulting from this Court ruling will no doubt be vociferous, maybe even vicious. But these, too, within reasonable legal limits, are part of our constitutional system and a healthy part at that.

Memorial of Saint Athanasius

Readings: Acts 6:8-15; Ps 119:23-24.26.27.29.30; John 6:22-29

Today the Church remembers Saint Athanasius, a bishop who lived mostly in the fourth century. To be a bit anachronistic, Athanasius was the champion of orthodoxy at the Church's very first ecumenical council: the Council of Nicaea, which started in AD 325. The particular point of Christian orthodoxy for which he strongly advocated was the real divinity of Jesus Christ. Prior to this first Council, perhaps the most widespread understanding of the Son's relationship to the Father was the one set forth by another bishop: Arius

Arianism insisted that the Son was the first creation of the Father. According to this view the Father created, or made, the Son before creating anything else either invisible or visible. A good summary of Arianism is there was a time when the Father existed when the Son did not exist. Time, of course, is a function of change. Athanasius rightly understood that this meant that Jesus Christ was, at best, a sort of demi-god.

Far from being "true God from true God," a demi-god is a being who possesses only partial or lesser divine status, a minor deity, maybe the offspring of a god and a mortal, or a mortal raised to divine rank. The classical world was full of such second and third-rate deities.

The particular term Athanasius introduced into Christian theology, the word he thought best-describes the relation of the Son to the Father is the Greek word homoousios. Like most complex, philosophical terms, homoousios is difficult translate. In the third English edition of Roman Missal, promulgated in 2011, homoousios is translated as "consubstantial," as in "consubstantial with the Father."

"Consubstantial" is used in the current English edition of the Missal because it is translated from the Latin consubstanialem Patri and not from the original Greek. But the translation of homoousios used in the second English edition of the Roman Missal, taking its cue from the Greek, is probably a better one: "one in being with the Father."

In the Nicene Creed, we also profess that Jesus is "God from God, Light from Light, true God from true God, begotten not made." Distinguishing between begotten and made is vital for confessing Jesus' divinity. You make what is unlike yourself (someone made this ambo). Like begets like. So, human parents beget a human child. A divine Father begets a divine Son.

Far from being a demi-god, Jesus is truly God and truly human. Just as he is consubstantial with the Father, through the Blessed Virgin Mary, he consubstantial with us! In our first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, it is confessing Jesus' divinity that lands Stephen (one of the Church's first seven "deacons"- see Acts 6:1-6) in hot water. It is Stephen's unwavering confession of Jesus' divinity, his Lordship, that, imitatio Christi, results in his being stoned to death.

Jesus' divinity was not some late development. It is in the New Testament- think of the Prologue to Saint John's Gospel (see John 1:1-5) or this passage from the first chapter of the Letter to the Colossians- Col 1:15-20, to pick just two.

It is, nonetheless, difficult to describe the mystery of one God in three divine persons. Because it is really the mystery of love, grasping it at all is probably more experiential than it is intellectual. But as Jesus says in today's Gospel: "This is the work of God, that you believe in the one he sent" (John 6:29).

What it means to entrust yourself to Jesus

Readings: Acts 5:27-32; Ps 30:2.4-6.11-13; Rev 5:11-14; John 21:1-19

Today is a rare Sunday that I have off. I served at the Sunday Vigil Mass last night. In the past, I have tried, albeit with limited success, to take a break the first Sunday of each month. It feels kind of weird.

Last Sunday, Sr. Sophia Michalenko's The Life of Saint Faustina Kowalska: The Authorized Biography fell into my hands. I started reading it in conjunction with re-reading Faustina's Diary. Now, I probably have more reservations about private revelation than most Catholics. One of the unique features of private revelations, even those Sister Faustina claimed to receive that are "approved" by the Church, is that they are not de fide (i.e., of the faith). In other words, nobody is required to believe in them. In fact, a good Catholic can reject them.

But I do think that since 2000, when Pope John Paul II, in accordance with what Christ asked of Faustina, declared the Second Sunday of Easter "Divine Mercy Sunday," thus making Faustina's message of Divine Mercy universal in scope, that it's hard to simply ignore it. It is also the case that there is likely no sustained instance of private revelation that does not present some theological difficulties.

I personally believe that Helena Kowalska, whose religious name is Maria Faustina, was chosen to bring the message of God's mercy given us in Christ Jesus through the power of the Holy Spirit to the world. I believe this despite the apparent likelihood that some of the message with which she was entrusted was imperfectly conveyed and maybe even interpreted by its recipient in problematic ways. It really should go without saying that, at least in parts, some passages in St. Faustina's Diary are very timebound, conditioned by her milieu, as well as her human limitations. But this is also true of Sacred Scripture.

Tying my reading of the Diary of Saint Maria Faustina Kowalska to the readings this Third Sunday of Easter, particularly the Gospel, yesterday I came across these words, words that make a phrase I've used in my preaching for several years: "love is stronger than death" (#46). This is preceded by "Love endures everything" and is followed by "love fears nothing" (ibid). I can think of no better way than to describe the message of today's Gospel. The context of these words, which are Faustina's own, describes her experiencing "the Passion of the Lord Jesus in [her] body" (#46).

Crucifixion, by Caravaggio, 1601

In our Gospel we are told, before his touching encounter with Simon Peter, that this "was now the third time Jesus was revealed to his disciples after being raised from the dead" (John 21:14). (There's something about both three and the charcol fire in this passage.) What follows is Jesus asking Simon Peter three times whether he (Simon Peter) loves him (Jesus). In each instance, with what seems to be increasing frustration and perhaps a little impatience borne of humiliation, Peter answers not just "Yes, I love you, Lord" but buttresses his yeses by saying to Jesus "You know that..."

The humiliation that likely gives birth to Peter's frustration and impatience is his memory, which the Risen Lord surely seems to want him to recall, of his three-fold denial after Jesus' arrest. No doubt, remembering this caused Peter great pain. It is not until his final reply to Jesus's question "Simon, son of John, do you love me?" that Peter bares his soul, as it were, to the Risen One, saying "Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you" (John 21:17).

Our Responsorial today highlights something easily missed: remembering our sins in order to be forgiven them. Such a calling to mind is as painful as it is necessary. Either you do this or there is no way of truly experiencing Divine Mercy. And so today we sing: "I will praise you, Lord, for you have rescued me."

You see, the question is never "Does Jesus love me?" He loves you and there's nothing you can do about it! It is his love for you and for me that raised him from the dead (Christus resurrexit quia Deus caritas est- Christ is risen because God is love). Hence, "love is stronger than death!" Do you love Jesus enough to entrust yourself completely to his care come what may? In this moment, Peter does just that.

As a result of the mercy he receives, Peter, in this frank encounter with the Risen Lord, repudiating the fear that caused him to deny the Lord three times, entrusts himself wholly to Jesus. This prompts Jesus to then allude to the "kind of death [Peter] would glorify God" (John 21:19). Tradition hands-on that Peter was crucified in Rome, possibly during the Neronian persecution.

As the story goes, not considering himself worthy to die in the same way Jesus died, Peter demanded to be crucified upside-down. His being led where he would never have gone on his own ties back to Saint Faustina's experience, which somewhat mirrors that of the Little Flower, Saint Thérèse of Lisieux (with whom Faustina claimed to have a mystical encounter) of what it means to entrust yourself wholly to Divine Mercy, which is but another name for Jesus Christ.

Sadly, death is real. Its inevitability weighs on us more and more the older we get. So, the question becomes more pressing over time: Is love stronger than death? This question can only be answered existentially, that is, through the experience of courageously enduring "everything" in love. This brings to mind a passage from one of the most sublime chapters that can be found in our uniquely Christian scriptures:

There is no fear in love, but perfect love drives out fear because fear has to do with punishment, and so one who fears is not yet perfect in love. We love because he first loved us (1 John 4:18-19)

This is what it means to say with Saints Peter, Thérèse, and Faustina- "Jesus, I trust in You."