Year 2 Monday of Holy Week

Readings: Isaiah 42:1-7; Psalm 27:1-3.13-14; John 12:1-11

There is a big difference between understanding Jesus as miracle worker and believing Him to be the Christ, Son of the living God. The first flows from the second but it does not do so necessarily. It’s important to note that Jesus’ attitude to His own miracles is ambivalent at best. Jesus would still be the Christ even if He performed no miracles! The greatest miracle of all, of course, is His resurrection.

The Lord understood the spectacle His miracles made. He knew the curiosity they generated. He knew that based on stories of what He had done making the rounds that many sought Him out not for salvation, not forgiveness of their sins, not life everlasting, but to see a magic show or to have some immediate material need met.

After feeding 5,000 on the far side of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus went back across to Capernaum. The crowd followed Him. It’s easy to forget that the Bread of Life Discourse begins with the Lord chiding the crowd: “I say to you, you are looking for me not because you saw signs but because you ate the loaves and were filled.”¹ Keep in mind that “a sign” points to something beyond itself.

Towards the end of our Gospel today, the inspired author tells us explicitly that the large crowd gathered around the house in Bethany not only because Jesus was there, “but also to see Lazarus.”² Who wouldn’t want to see someone who had been dead for four days and then, by simple command, was brought back to life?

In our age, we would be more prone to launch a scientific investigation into the physics and biology of someone who was dead coming back to life. What is missed by looking either through the lens of magic or science is the genuinely metaphysical aspect.

Even if it was possible to explain how this might’ve happened or prove that such a thing is, in fact, possible, the question “Why?” is ignored. Understanding how doesn't necessarily tell you why. For what purpose did Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead? So “that the Son of God may be glorified through it.”³

Jesus did this to demonstrate exactly what He said to Martha on the dusty road leading to Bethany: “I am the resurrection and the life.”⁴ Raising Lazarus was but a preview of what was to come. Lazarus, after being raised from the dead, died again. Hence, what he experienced was more a resuscitation than resurrection. Of course, it is no less stunning for that. He was dead and brought back to life!

Although it appears in the following chapter, this scene in which Mary anoints Jesus’ feet with oil and then dries them with her hair, is referenced at the beginning of the pericope about the Lord raising Lazarus from the dead. In a parenthetical statement, the author notes: “Mary was the one who had anointed the Lord with perfumed oil and dried his feet with her hair; it was her brother Lazarus who was ill.”⁵ This reinforces the significance of Mary's humble act.

The significance of Mary’s anointing Jesus is a recognition that He is Messiah, whom the Bethany siblings believed Him to be. Messiah means “anointed one.” It also pointed to Jesus’ own death. Jesus’ rebuke of Judas Iscariot indicates both these things.

What this means is that to have Jesus is to have everything. The only concise definition of eternal life that we find in all Sacred Scripture is also found in Saint John’s Gospel: “Now this is eternal life, that they should know you, the only true God, and the one whom you sent, Jesus Christ.”⁶

At the Great Paschal Vigil you, too, will witness the miracle of the dead being brought to life. It is the miracle of baptism. Just like in Jesus’ day, you must have eyes to see. As a sacrament, baptism, too, is a sign.

As Catholics, we say that a sacrament is an “efficacious sign.” We designate them as such because sacraments, while certainly pointing beyond themselves, don’t merely signify something, or stand in for something that is absent. A sacrament “actually makes present what it signifies.”⁷

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1 John 6:26.^↩
2 John 12:9.^↩
3 John 11:4.^↩
4 John 11:25.^↩
5 John 11:2.^↩
6 John 17:3.^↩
7 USCCB. Marriage: Love and Life in the Divine Plan, 32. 2009.^↩

Year A Palm Sunday of the Lord's Passion- Procession

Reading: Matthew 21:1-11

The procession, which will start right after this, is our symbolic journey with Jesus, the King of Israel through the line David, into Jerusalem. We are privileged to participate liturgically in the Lord’s triumphal entry into the holy city. Hence, it is not something that happens before Mass, something added on. It is an integral part of the Passion Sunday liturgy. Mass has begun!

Processing is different from merely walking. While joyful, a procession is a solemn act of worship. A procession has a destination. Ultimately, of course, our destination and our destiny is the city of God, which will descend from heaven to earth.¹ It is here that Christ will reign forever.

Our procession today culminates by our entrance into the Temple. Our Church symbolizes the Temple. We are those hailing and lauding Jesus as He enters the Temple precincts. Father Andrzej, acting in persona Christi captis, represents Christ.

To walk without a palm branch is walk and not process. It makes no sense to process without a palm branch. These branches are signs and symbols of your recognition of Jesus as Messiah, Savior, and Lord. Far from being incidental, these palm branches are an essential element of today’s liturgy.

During this procession, the sound that should be heard is our joyful singing- All glory, laud, and honor to You, Redeemer King. . .

Sisters and brothers,
like the crowds who acclaimed Jesus in Jerusalem,
let us go forth in peace

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1 Revelation 21:2..^↩

"Though there's pain in the offering"

Here we are, the last Friday of Lent. This holy season concludes, as it does each year, with Evening Prayer next Thursday. Evening Prayer on Holy Thursday ushers in the shortest of liturgical seasons: the Sacred Triduum.

The Sacred Triduum constiutes something like our Christian high holy days. It might be more accurate to say "our Christian high holy day." Holy Thursday's Mass of the Lord's Supper has no concluding rites, no dismissal. Instead, we process with the Blessed Sacrament to the chapel of repose. Good Friday has no introductory rites, but begins with the Collect. Good Friday, too, ends without a dismissal. We're not dismissed until the end of the great Paschal Vigil, which both brings the Sacred Triduum to an end and inagurates the season of Easter.

All Catholics really should make an to participate in the entire Triduum. Do it once and you will want to keep doing it.

For me, it's been an eventful year so far and an vibrant Lent. About halfway through, I began working for the Church full-time, which event was more than a year in the making. To say that I am feeling a bit overwhelmed at present would be to put it mildly. Nonetheless, I remain excited and forward looking. It's an opportunity to extend my Lenten discipline of being gentle with myself!

Earlier this week, I had a beautiful experience during my morning walk. It was a gorgeous spring day. I decided to listen to some glory and praise music, as it matched my mood and weather. As I noted in my homily last Sunday, we don't observe Lent, or even Good Friday, pretending that Christ isn't risen from the dead. That level of pretense belies Christian realism. Besides, as Richard Foster noted in his seminal work, Celebration of Discipline, "Joy is the keynote of all the Disciplines" Just as "happiness," at least as it is popularly understood, shouldn't be confused eudaimonia, neither should it be mistaken for joy. Happiness is fleeting. Joy abides. Happiness is superficial. Joy runs deep.

Anyway, our traditio is then-Sister Cristina Scuccia with an acoustic version (suitable for its simplicity) of "Blessed Be Your Name." In or around 2022, Cristina left religious life after 15 years. She's emphatic that the time she spent as an Ursiline sister were "splendid years." She is also insistent that she has not abandoned the faith. While we don't use the "A-word" during Lent, we do praise Jesus Christ always and everywhere!

Year 2 Monday of the Fifth Week of Lent

Readings: Daniel 13:41c-62; Psalm 23:1-6; John 8:1-11

Our reading from the Book of Daniel is perfectly paired with the pericope of the woman taken in adultery. Referred to as pericope adulteræ, this text has its own colorful history. The story of Susanna has this in common with the story of the adulterous woman. Susanna's story only survives in a Greek and a later Syriac translation of the Septuagint. Even in ancient times, there was no received text in Aramaic or Hebrew. This called it to be questioned by no less than Saint Jerome, among others. But these are issues in themselves and not relevant to our reception of these inspired texts.

Our first reading requires some context. The two men Daniel interrogates are people of high standing. Men who were, in fact, judges and who adjudicated cases people brought before them. As it happens, they were also men of low character. The place where they carried out their duties was seemingly next door to Joakim’s house.

Each day when they finished their business about noon, the lovely Susanna entered her garden for a walk. Watching her over time led these two men to lust after her.

One day, they observed Susanna bathing. She had dismissed her attendants and was bathing alone as these two watched her, hidden by some trees. As soon as her attendants left, the two men approached Susanna and made the crudest of propositions to her, telling her that if she did not agree to it, they would both accuse her of adultery with a young man.

Susanna, being a woman of character and integrity, knowing full well that the testimony of two respected judges would most likely lead to her execution, refused their disgusting offer. And so, the wicked judges made their false accusation, which was believed. Not being given the chance to plead her case, Susanna was doomed to die.

As she was about to be executed, Susanna prayed out loud to God, pleading for deliverance. This is where Daniel comes in. Refusing to take part is what he saw as a miscarriage of justice, Daniel puts a stop to Susanna’s execution. He protested that she had been tried and sentenced without any evidence and without being examined or her accusers even being questioned.

Hence, Daniel’s confrontation of the two wicked judges. Daniel had these men separated and questioned them individually. Their inability to tell the same story quickly reveals their attempt to frame Susanna. But the vile nature of what led them to make their false accusation does not appear to have been revealed.

What I’ve always found interesting about Jesus’ encounter with the woman taken in adultery is that her partner in crime, the man, seems to have gotten away. In cases like this, it literally does take two to tango. Unlike Susanna, this woman seems to accept that she is guilty of that of which she stands accused.

Further, this poor woman seems resigned to being stoned to death. She does not shout out something like, “What about him, the man I was with?”, let alone identify him to the merciless mob, all of whom would’ve been men, so he could be punished too. We are told nothing about the circumstances under which she was caught. Perhaps she was a woman with no close male relative to take of her who was reduced to prostitution just to survive.

Jesus isn’t interested in any of this. He takes the situation at face value and, unlike Daniel, doesn’t say, “Wait a minute! Not so fast.” Instead, the Lord gives an example of what is beautifully summarized in the Letter of James: “For the judgment is merciless to the one who has not shown mercy; mercy triumphs over justice.”¹

We acknowledge this everyday when we pray in the Our Father “forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us.”² What the Lord makes clear to those gathered to stone this woman is that they, too, need mercy: “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.”³ Maybe Jesus wrote "mercy" in the dirt.

You see, the prospect of justice, of getting what you deserve, is scary. In the end, I don’t want what I deserve. I don’t want that for you either. As a wise mentor once told me: “Whenever to point the finger, there’s three pointing right back at you.” I’ll go with grace over karma any day. As U2 sang:

Grace/She takes the blame/She covers the shame/Removes the stain. . . It's also a thought that could change the world⁴

When some Pharisees questioned His disciples about why their Master ate with “tax collectors and sinners,” Jesus told them, quoting the Hosea, "Go and learn the meaning of the words, 'I desire mercy, not sacrifice.' I did not come to call the righteous but sinners."⁵

Lent is a great time to grasp mercy. And, not being condemned, go your way and sin no more. “Because Grace makes beauty out of ugly things.”⁶

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1 James 2:15.^↩
2 Matthew 6:9-15; Roman Missal. The Order of Mass. The Communion Rite, sec. 124; Liturgy of the Hours, Morning and Evening Prayer.^↩
3 John 8:7.^↩
4 U2. "Grace" off All That You Can't Leave Behind album. Released 2000.^↩
5 Matthew 9:9-13.^↩
6 U2. "Grace."^↩

Year A Fifth Sunday of Lent- Third Scrutiny of the Elect

Readings: Ezekiel 37:12-14; Psalm 130:1-8; Romans 8:8-11; John 11:1-45

Today marks the third and final Scrutiny of the Elect prior to their receiving the sacraments of Christian Initiation at the upcoming Paschal Vigil. Especially to the Elect, I say that if at this point you don’t recognize that you are the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, that you are the man born blind who was given true sight by the Lord, and that you are Lazarus, called forth from the tomb, you may not be ready. This also goes for those of us who are baptized, for whom Lent serves as preparation for renewal of our baptismal promises at Easter.

These passages from Saint John’s Gospel, used by the Church since ancient times for the scrutiny of the Elect, should deeply resonate with us all. This resonance is what the term catechesis means. In nearly 2,000 years of Christian usage, the Greek word katekeo doesn’t mean merely to echo. Echoes quickly fade. It means to resound.

The verb, “to resound” means to fill a place with sound. What the Church resounds is not merely the “teaching” of Christ handed by the apostles and through the Church’s apostolic ministry, but Christ Himself. The Holy Spirit is the mode of His post-Ascension presence in, among, and through us.

Each of these three Gospel passages tells of the kind of personal, life-changing encounter that makes one a Christian. You can’t give faith to anyone and no one, except God, can give you faith. Being a supernatural virtue, faith is a gift from God.

Like love, particularly agape (i.e., self-giving, self-sacrificing love), faith is a verb. In a Christian context, faith is not a generic term, reducible to mere belief in something. For Christians, faith requires, not an object, but a subject. Not a something but Someone: Jesus Christ. It is to Him that a Christian actively and completely entrusts herself.

Foremost, the Church is the community of faith. It is a community of people who haven’t only been given this saving gift (which God offers to everyone) but who have accepted it by embracing Jesus Christ as Savior and Lord. Those whose deepest desire is to be like Him.

By its nature, as Christ’s establishment of the Church demonstrates, faith is a team sport, or a communion. More exactly, the Church is koinonia. While “communion” is typically used, there is no English word that directly translates koinonia. Hence, it can be described as fellowship, intimacy, solidarity, sharing, and acting in common.

Of course, the central way we act in common is by participating in the Eucharist. It is the Eucharist that makes us together the Body of Christ and individually members of His Body. In a single word, koinonia captures how Christians are meant to live. Koinonia is how the redeemed are sanctified. Just as one person is no person (there needs to be a thou for there to be an I), one Christian is no Christian. We need one another!

Rather than a moral philosophy or a systematic theology, let alone what author Herman Hesse described as “the glass bead game,” Christianity is a Person. At the start of his pontificate, Pope Benedict XVI insisted:

Being Christian is not the result of an ethical choice or a lofty idea, but the encounter with an event, a person, which gives life a new horizon and a decisive direction¹

There is an interesting line in our long Gospel reading that is easy to pass-by. It is uttered by the same disciple who refused to believe the testimony of the other disciples that Jesus had risen from the dead: Thomas. As a result, he is usually referred to as “doubting Thomas.”²

A few days after learning that His friend, Lazarus, was gravely ill, Jesus said to His disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.” To which someone responded” “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?”³ To which Jesus, implying that He knew Lazarus was dead or was going to die, replied in the affirmative.

Just before they headed south to Judea, “Thomas, called Didymus, said to his fellow disciples, ‘Let us go die with him.’”⁴ Die with whom, Lazarus? No, to go to Jerusalem to die with Christ. This exhortation by “doubting” Thomas should not be forgotten when it comes to his insistence on seeing the Risen Lord for himself.

Could it be that Thomas understood what it might mean to die with Christ but fail to grasp what it means to rise with Him to new life? I think sometimes, as Catholics, we understand the dying bit quite well while giving short shrift to living the life of the redeemed. Like those who observe Lent as if Christ isn't already risen from the dead. We even enter Good Friday knowing how the story continues.

It was this excessive, even morbid, focus on dying that prompted Nietzsche, in the voice of Zarathustra, to say this about Christians:

Better songs would they have to sing, for me to believe in their Saviour: more like saved ones would his disciples have to appear unto me!⁵

When Saint Paul refers to “the flesh” in our reading from Romans, he is not referring to the body. Instead, he is invoking the carnal mindedness that results from the fall. (For those who care about these things, it is the sarx/soma distinction) You know, all those natural tendencies that cause you to go against the teachings of Jesus, like holding a grudge or getting even rather than forgiving, returning evil for evil instead returning good for evil, seeing others as a threat rather than a gift, refusing to welcome the stranger, putting your good before that of anyone else. .

Because death is the result of sin, it is these fleshly tendencies, according to Paul, that cause “the body” to be “dead because of sin.” The Christian life, therefore, is not a matter of overcoming your body, which will be raised from the dead, but overcoming sin and whatever leads to you to sin so that your body can be and remain a temple of the Holy Spirit, a place where Christ dwells.⁶

Just He ordered those present untie Lazarus “and let him go,” Christ wants to liberate you from the bondage of sin that leads to death.⁷ He wants you to live and to joyfully sing better songs so that others may also believe.

Do you think Lazarus’ life was ever the same after Christ raised him from the dead?

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1 Pope Benedict XVI. Encyclical Letter Deus caritas est, sec. 1. Promulgated 25 December 2025.^↩
2 See John 20:24-29.^↩
3 John 11:7-8.^↩
4 John 11:16.^↩
5 Friedrich Nietzsche. Thus Spake Zarathustra. XXIV. Second Part. "The Priests." Trans. Thomas Common.^↩
6 See 1 Corinthians 6:19-20.^↩
7 John 11:44.^↩

What do with the time left in Lent?

What follows is my reflection for the diocesan staff's weekly Lenten gathering for Morning Prayer, which takes place on Wednesdays of Lent. There are still a few weeks left of this holy season. Reflecting on what it means to be a Christian, what it means to be baptized, is really important.

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Reading: Deuteronomy 7:6.8-9

As I was thinking about preparing for this morning, forgetting it was Lent, I wondered if today’s reading was really the same as that for last Wednesday and the Wednesday before that. After all, the book is Deuteronomy, means “second” telling not fourth telling.

During Lent, the readings for Morning and Evening Prayer are repetitive. By means of this repetition, the Church tries to focus on what really matters. As with the Israelites’ forty-year trek through and all around the Sinai Peninsula, Lent is meant to be a journey through the dry desert of our souls, in which, as The Police sang, “I always play the starring role.”

Our annual journey culminates at the baptismal font. This is not only true for the Elect, but for all the baptized. Lent, which means springtime in old English, is the time we are given each year to prepare for the renewal of our baptismal promises. It is a time for new life.

Baptism is our crossing of the Red Sea as well as our crossing of the Jordan into the Promised Land. It is the womb from which we are reborn and tomb from which we arise with Christ to live a new life. Baptism is our deliverance from slavery to sin and death, enabling us to live in the glorious freedom of the children of God.

Holy baptism, not holy orders, is the fundamental sacrament of the Christian life. Those who are ordained should always remember, as we vest for liturgical celebrations, that the alb is a baptismal garment. Everything else goes on top of the alb: stole, chasuble, dalmatic, cope. "Every baptized person," Pope Leo noted in today's Wednesday audience, "is to bear consistent witness to Christ.”

It is through baptism into Christ that the Lord, our God, who is ever faithful, includes you in his merciful covenant. And so, over these final few weeks of Lent, prepare to renew this covenant, which is your covenant with the living God. How do I do this, you might ask?

Before I answer, it’s important to realize that God loves you and there’s nothing you can do about it. God’s love is the rock on which we can firmly stand. So, the question is, what might I love more than I love God? All sin is a matter of not loving God, “whom,” we acknowledge in the Act of Contrition, “I should love above all things.”

Traditionally, those things we love more than God (or neighbor) are called “disordered attachments.” Lent is the time to identify and, with God’s help, strive to be delivered from them. And so, let this Lent be a time of deliverance. Let God bring you out of Egypt by His strong arm and ransom you from Pharoah.

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A fair amount of the time, on Fridays, I reflect on time. Taking my cue from Trevor Hudson, I like to refer to Lent as "a time-gift." So, our traditio for this Friday of the Fourth Week of Lent is from Jesus and Mary Chain's still very good Darklands album: "On the Wall."

Solemnity of Saint Joseph, Spouse of the Blessed Virgin Mary

Readings: 2 Sm 7:4-5a.12-14a.16; Ps 89:2-5.27.29; Rm 4:13.16-18.22; Matt 1:16.18-21.24a

It’s fairly obvious from the Infancy Narratives found in both Saint Matthew’s and Saint Luke’s Gospels that Jesus’ Davidic lineage comes through Saint Joseph. Nonetheless, Joseph, the very end of whose genealogy marks the start of our Gospel reading for this Solemnity, remains an intriguing figure.

It was only in the nineteenth century that popular devotion to Saint Joseph really took off. If Saint Patrick’s Day is the “Irish” day, then Saint Joseph’s Day is the Italian day. But since 1870, Joseph has been Patron of the Universal Church. Being a Solemnity, today is a holy day of obligation in traditionally Catholic countries.

In the words of Saint Paul from our second reading, Saint Joseph is certainly to be numbered among “those who follow the faith of Abraham.”¹ Like Abraham, Joseph led his family from their home to a foreign land. Unlike Abraham, when the danger they were fleeing subsided, Joseph led his family back to the land promised to Abraham and his descendants.

If we adhere to Matthew’s narrative, God communicated to Saint Joseph by means of angels who appeared in his dreams. Joseph was meticulously faithful to the divine direction he was given. We learn of his first dream in our Gospel reading today.

It isn’t hard to imagine the consternation Joseph must've felt upon learning that Mary, his betrothed, was pregnant. It’s clear Joseph knew that the child was not his. He understood how pregnancies normally occur.

Do you think that if Joseph had been angry, resentful, and bitter upon learning the woman to whom was betrothed was pregnant that he would’ve been receptive to the revelation he was given concerning the child’s conception? Do you think that he might not have received it in the first place?

Even though Joseph “was a righteous man” and, like the Blessed Virgin, no doubt chosen by God for this very important vocation, like her, he was free to decide how to respond to circumstances.² You miss a lot if you fail to see that God is a big risk taker! What’s riskier than love in any of its forms?

A statue of Saint Joseph in Rome, by Paul Haring for CNS

Rather than seethe with anger and resentment, upon learning that Mary was pregnant, Joseph was concerned about protecting both her dignity and her safety. You see, genuine love is selfless. It is about desiring the good of the other, even above your own good. Joseph gives us an example of how to move this from a nice sentiment to a living reality. It is no small matter that he is forced to confront.

To mark the one hundred fiftieth anniversary of Pope Pius IX declaring Saint Joseph Patron of the Church Universal, on 8 December 2020, which is also the Solemnity of the Immaculate Concepion, Pope Francis promulgated his Apostolic Letter on Saint Joseph, Patris Corde- “With a Father’s Heart.” I recommend Patris Corde to you. It is an exquisite reflection on Saint Joseph by someone with a deep devotion to this righteous man.

After noting that every Catholic prayerbook contains prayers to Saint Joseph and that each Wednesday as well as the entire month of March are to dedicated to him, just as Saturdays and the month of May are dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, Pope Francis revealed in a footnote to Patris Corde that each day for more than forty years, at the end of Morning Prayer, he “recited a prayer to Saint Joseph” from a nineteenth century prayerbook published by a Congregation of French sisters.

Pope Francis noted that this prayer, “expresses devotion and trust, and even poses a certain challenge to Saint Joseph”:

Glorious Patriarch Saint Joseph, whose power makes the impossible possible, come to my aid in these times of anguish and difficulty. Take under your protection the serious and troubling situations that I commend to you, that they may have a happy outcome. My beloved father, all my trust is in you. Let it not be said that I invoked you in vain, and since you can do everything with Jesus and Mary, show me that your goodness is as great as your power. Amen³

In addition to being Patron of the Universal Church, Saint Joseph is the patron of a happy death, the patron of workers (the Church observes the Memorial of Saint Joseph the Worker on 1 May), Guardian of the Redeemer. And last but not least, Saint Joseph is the Terror of demons.

So, don’t hesitate to entrust cares and concerns to Saint Joseph’s intercession. As Sacred Scripture teaches, “The fervent prayer of a righteous person is very powerful.”⁴

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1 Romans 4:16.^↩
2 Matthew 1:19.^↩
3 Pope Francis. Apostolic Letter, Patris Corde, footnote 10. Promulgated 8 December 2020.^↩
4 James 5:16.^↩