Thursday Third Week of Easter

Readings: Acts 8:26-40; Ps 66:8-9.16-17.20; John 6:44-51

Like Stephen, Philip is reckoned to be one of the Church’s first deacons. One of the requirements for the seven men chosen by the earliest Christian community in Jerusalem to serve was that they were “filled with the Spirit and wisdom.”¹ According to the Acts of the Apostles, the whole experience of the first Christians was “Spirit-filled.”

The inspired author of Acts tells us that it was an angel who told Philip to head south from Jerusalem along the Gaza road. It is important to note that this divine messenger did not let the good deacon know why he was to head that direction using that route. Being filled with Holy Spirit, Philip was able to discern why when he came upon the Ethiopian eunuch reading and not understanding a passage from the Book of Isaiah.

While it may seem strange to us that someone would be reading out loud in public, it seems good to note that in the ancient world nobody read silently. All reading was done out loud. Of course, most people could not read. The particular passage the Ethiopian was reading was one of Isaiah’s Servant Songs.² The Servant Songs are four Hebrew poems found in what is known as Deutero-Isaiah. Hence, these were written some six centuries before Christ during the Babylonian exile.

Remarkably, Isaiah’s Servant Songs transcend Israel’s longing for a “savior” to rescue them from exile. The particular passage the eunuch was reading deals with the utterly counter-intuitive and unexpected manner of God’s deliverance. This left the wealthy and powerful Ethiopian confused. “To whom is this passage referring,” he asks?³

' Given this opening, “Philip opened his mouth and, beginning with this scripture passage, he proclaimed Jesus to him.”⁴ Jesus is who this passage is about! As a result of the deacon’s Bible lesson, this man, who, it appears, was Jewish- Ethiopian Jews exist both then and now- came to believe in Christ. As a result, Philip baptized him. After baptizing the eunuch, Philip went on his evangelizing way, no doubt following the Spirit’s lead.

The Baptism of the Eunuch, School of Rembrandt, ca. 1631

In our Gospel today, taken from Saint John’s Bread of Life discourse, the importance of hearing and rightly grasping God’s word also comes to the fore. Of course, in this instance, it is God himself, Jesus Christ, who is doing the expounding.

Jesus tells his listeners- “They shall all be taught by God.”⁵ Indeed, right then they were being taught the word of God by God's very Word. Jesus here is saying that anyone who “hears” the Father is drawn to him (Jesus). Because only Jesus has seen the Father, only Jesus can reveal the Father.

Jesus is the Word who becomes flesh. Jesus is Word who becomes sacrament by the Holy Spirit’s power. Just as foretold by the Servant Song that so puzzled the Ethiopian, Jesus does not do this in an imposing way. Rather, he does so in a rather unimposing and unexpected way. To those who do not know the word, the mystery of Christ’s Real Presence is usually incomprehensible or misunderstood.

Jesus becomes bread so that he can live in and through us, again, by the Spirit’s power. To be a Christian is to be Spirit-filled. For this to happen, we need to have some inkling of what we’re doing, why it is important, and why it matters that we gather for Mass. Hopefully, after what will have amounted to a long Eucharistic fast for most Catholics worldwide, all of us will be more interested in the importance of how the word becomes sacrament in and through us.

Christ is really present in the proclamation of the Scriptures. Instead of eating and drinking, we hear intending to listen to him. The English word “obedience” comes from the Latin verb obidere, which means to listen. Hopefully, like Philip, we will attune ourselves to the Holy Spirit and help others see and believe in the risen Christ. But before you speak you must listen to God’s word with the ear of your heart. While this sounds like a pious sentiment, listening with the ear of your heart is what enables you to become a missionary-disciple and not a sanctimonious twit.

Yesterday, I did a committal service. Despite our current circumstances, it was a beautiful Easter day. It was a day on which it was easier to believe in resurrection than it is under certain other conditions. In such circumstances, all any member of the clergy has to offer are words. But words can be powerful, and so, remain important. The inspired author of Hebrews, which most scholars reckon is a sermon, tells us the

word of God is living and effective, sharper than any two-edged sword, penetrating even between soul and spirit, joints and marrow, and able to discern reflections and thoughts of the heart⁶

Let us dedicate, or rededicate, ourselves to reading, pondering, and praying God’s word daily. This is one of the primary ways God teaches us. This includes preaching. If a preacher does not explain the Scriptures the way Philip did to the earnestly inquiring Ethiopian, then what’s the point of preaching? As Saint Jerome, the great Bible translator and commentator wrote in the prologue to his commentary on Isaiah: “ignorance of Scripture is ignorance of Christ.”⁷

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1 Acts 6:3.^↩
2 Isaiah 53:7-8.^↩
3 Acts 8:34.^↩
4 Acts 8:35.^↩
5 John 6:45.^↩
6 Hebrews 4:12.^↩
7 Saint Jerome, Prologue of the commentary on Isaiah, n.1, CCL 73, 1.^↩

May remains Mother Mary's month

Believe it or not dear friends, May is nearly here. April 2020 will forever be lodged in my mind as a very strange month in my journey of life. Despite a world in retreat (wise people have intentionally used this time to go on retreat), May remains, as much as ever, the month of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

While I urge everyone whenever possible to pray the Rosary daily, it is with even more urgency I ask you to pray the Rosary of the Blessed Virgin Mary this particular May. I am posting this today because I figured if I was urging both of my readers to pray the Rosary daily during May, I shouldn't wait until 1 May to do so.

I have what I have come to call before our Blessed Mother "the COVID intercessions." These are for a quick end to the spread of sars-cov-2, the speedy and full recovery of all who are ill with COVID-19, the protection of healthcare and essential words from the virus, for wise, prudent, and collaborative decisions by local, national, and world leaders in the service of the common good concerning the virus, for wise advice from public health officials, and for the repose of the souls who have died during this pandemic. Quite a list, I know. I am confident Our Lady can handle them and effectively intercede.

In a letter addressed to all the faithful, dated 25 April, Pope Francis urged us all to pray the Rosary during May more and more fervently. "Contemplating the face of Christ with the heart of Mary, our mother," he insisted, "will make us even more united as a spiritual family and will help us overcome this time of trial." It's easy to overlook the teaching of the Holy Father in these matters. When it comes to praying the Rosary, either by one's self, with your family, or another group, the Pope tells us in his short letter- "The key to doing this is always simplicity."

At the end of his letter, Pope Francis gave two prayers that we can recite at the end of the Rosary:

First Prayer

O Mary,
You shine continuously on our journey
as a sign of salvation and hope.
We entrust ourselves to you, Health of the Sick,
who, at the foot of the cross,
were united with Jesus’ suffering,
and persevered in your faith.

“Protectress of the Roman people”,
you know our needs,
and we know that you will provide,
so that, as at Cana in Galilee, joy and celebration may return
after this time of trial.

Help us, Mother of Divine Love,
to conform ourselves to the will of the Father
and to do what Jesus tells us.
For he took upon himself our suffering,
and burdened himself with our sorrows
to bring us, through the cross,
to the joy of the Resurrection.
Amen.

We fly to your protection,
O Holy Mother of God;
Do not despise our petitions
in our necessities,
but deliver us always
from every danger,
O Glorious and Blessed Virgin.

Second Prayer

We fly to your protection, O Holy Mother of God”.

In the present tragic situation, when the whole world is prey to suffering and anxiety, we fly to you, Mother of God and our Mother, and seek refuge under your protection.

Virgin Mary, turn your merciful eyes towards us amid this coronavirus pandemic. Comfort those who are distraught and mourn their loved ones who have died, and at times are buried in a way that grieves them deeply. Be close to those who are concerned for their loved ones who are sick and who, in order to prevent the spread of the disease, cannot be close to them. Fill with hope those who are troubled by the uncertainty of the future and the consequences for the economy and employment.

Mother of God and our Mother, pray for us to God, the Father of mercies, that this great suffering may end and that hope and peace may dawn anew. Plead with your divine Son, as you did at Cana, so that the families of the sick and the victims be comforted, and their hearts be opened to confidence and trust.

Protect those doctors, nurses, health workers and volunteers who are on the frontline of this emergency, and are risking their lives to save others. Support their heroic effort and grant them strength, generosity and continued health.

Be close to those who assist the sick night and day, and to priests who, in their pastoral concern and fidelity to the Gospel, are trying to help and support everyone.

Blessed Virgin, illumine the minds of men and women engaged in scientific research, that they may find effective solutions to overcome this virus.

Support national leaders, that with wisdom, solicitude and generosity they may come to the aid of those lacking the basic necessities of life and may devise social and economic solutions inspired by farsightedness and solidarity.

Mary Most Holy, stir our consciences, so that the enormous funds invested in developing and stockpiling arms will instead be spent on promoting effective research on how to prevent similar tragedies from occurring in the future.

Beloved Mother, help us realize that we are all members of one great family and to recognize the bond that unites us, so that, in a spirit of fraternity and solidarity, we can help to alleviate countless situations of poverty and need. Make us strong in faith, persevering in service, constant in prayer.

Mary, Consolation of the afflicted, embrace all your children in distress and pray that God will stretch out his all-powerful hand and free us from this terrible pandemic, so that life can serenely resume its normal course.

To you, who shine on our journey as a sign of salvation and hope, do we entrust ourselves, O Clement, O Loving, O Sweet Virgin Mary. Amen.

Prayers and blessings to you as you make your way through this difficult time.

Jesus's new presence: do we recognize him?

Luke 24:13-35

I've been posting a lot of homilies and reflections on the readings since Holy Thursday. This is because I currently have time to serve and so to preach at daily Mass regularly. As a result, this Third Sunday of Easter I am a little exhausted. I am limiting this reflection to just the Gospel reading for the Third Sunday of Easter. For those who do not routinely read Καθολικός διάκονος, I preached on the Emmaus story during the Octave (see "Wednesday in the Octave of Easter").

One of the points I've tried to emphasize in my Easter preaching is that in the resurrection accounts found in the Gospels Jesus's disciples have a difficult time recognizing him. I believe this is so because the inspired authors are trying to convey in words a reality that transcends language. In short, after his resurrection from the dead, Jesus's followers, even his closest ones, don't see him in the same way they saw him before his death and resurrection. They see him with what might be called new eyes- the eyes of faith. Resurrected life is a new mode of existence, which is why it cannot be limited to a single event that happened nearly two millennia ago.

Make no mistake, Jesus's post-resurrection presence among us is his real presence. It is a presence so real that it is more real than when he walked the dusty roads of Galilee with his disciples. His resurrection presence is so real, in fact, that Christ can dwell in you. It is the Holy Spirit who is the mode of his new presence. This is made clear in the Emmaus story when Cleopas and his companion- some have opined his companion was a woman, perhaps his wife- recognize the resurrected Lord, who "drew near and walked with them," only in the breaking of the bread.

But before they recognized him, this seeming stranger, who was clearly familiar with "the things that have taken place [in Jerusalem] in these days," taught them that "the things have taken place" were foretold and even necessary. After the two discouraged disciples relayed their dismay at the death of "Jesus the Nazarene," who they thought "would be the one to redeem Israel," this stranger instructed them thoroughly. He began by asking them a question: "Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?" After posing the question, "beginning with Moses and all the prophets, he interpreted to them what referred to him in all the Scriptures."

Les pèlerins d'Emmaüs en chemin, by James Tissot, ca. 1886-1894

The second part of a penitential litany that is found in the appropriate appendix of the English translation of the Roman Missal for the United States, the invocation is: "Lord Jesus, you come in word and sacrament to strengthen us in holiness." Among the things that the pericope of the journey to Emmaus shows us is the necessary, inextricable, and beautiful connection between word and sacrament. Maybe it is better to state it this way: the story of the journey to Emmaus shows us how word becomes sacrament. Keeping in mind one the simplest and most straightforward ways of defining a sacrament- a visible and tangible sign of Christ's presence in and for the world- we need to be aware that the word becomes sacrament in and through those who continue to recognize the risen Lord in the breaking of the bread.

After sharing with each other that their "hearts [were] burning... while he spoke to [them] on the way and opened the scriptures to [them]," Cleopas and his companion (wife?) ran the seven miles back to Jerusalem that night to tell the others about their experience. This demonstrates that not only is Jesus's new way of being present is really real, so to speak, but it shows that the Eucharist is not an end in itself. Receiving Christ's body and blood should make you an evangelist. The purpose of the Eucharist is not to make the community of disciples a self-referential group of the chosen, it is meant to make Jesus's disciples missionaries. The Eucharist orients toward you toward others, especially those you encounter who need your help.

Sadly, during these times, many Catholics are demanding Mass and excoriating their bishops for opting to keep their flocks safer. These sisters and brothers are exhibiting a self-referential understanding of the Eucharist, one that is static and seems to believe that they are in danger of Christ's presence somehow running out unless they get a refill. But Christ's real presence in the Mass is fourfold. In addition to be really present in the gathering of the baptized, he is really and truly present in the word, that is, the Scriptures. During these times, we should still be turning word into sacrament, which is the work of the Spirit in and through us, by making Jesus visibly and tangibly present by our faith, our hope, our joy, and through our service to those in need.

The risen Lord is walking with us now. Even though you cannot break the bread, do you still recognize him?

Women engage in diakonia

All week I have been thinking about posting something that was not a homily. In pondering that I also thought it would refreshing to write to about something other than the pandemic, which I am following with interest, as I suspect nearly everyone is. This morning an article from The Tablet came to my attention. The article, written by Mary Ring, is entitled "Women are already deacons."

Before even reading "Women are already deacons," I thought, with the words of the short title in mind, "No truer words could be written." I am happy to report that I did persist in reading Ring's piece. It mostly amounts to her critique of the newly formed commission established by Pope Francis. Unlike the previous commission, which had the mandate to examine the history of woman deacons, the new commission's mandate is about the possibility of ordaining women deacons. Ring is quite right, I think, to point out the glaring fact that the first commission's report has never been released. I agree with her that it should be, at least at some point. I, for one, would like to read it. Perhaps both reports will be made public together because the first report will be used to inform the deliberations of the newly appointed Commission.

I understand the misgivings of many people about the composition of the new Commission on Women Deacons appointed by Pope Francis. I guess, at least for me, I am not going to pre-judge. This commission has a broader mandate than the previous one. Its focus is more immediate. Given the members of the commission, none of whom seem, based on their previous work, to favor ordaining women, it occurred to me that, if nothing else, it might surface and articulate the biggest issues/objections to undertaking such a historic change to sacramental practice, which, being sacramental, has to do with the Church's very constitution.

Armenian woman deacon chanting the Gospel

While I agree with the Holy Father that we can't wait for the theologians to reach a consensus to do anything substantial, this particular issue requires re-starting the work of the Council, which, by calling for a permanent diaconate that could even be conferred on married men, began to address a not-very-good theology of orders that developed in the Latin Church, particularly the cursus honorum.

Let's not forget, just as there is a priesthood of all the baptized, there is a diaconate of all the baptized. Diakonia is an inherent part of any genuinely Christian spirituality, which fundamentally consists of three basic disciplines, taught by Christ himself: prayer, fasting, and alms-giving. I contend that another name for alms-giving is diakonia. Women, generally speaking, are more engaged in diakonia than men. In my view, this should count for a lot in the Church's discernment.

Keeping the above in mind, there is another matter that Pope Francis keeps mentioning, namely his concern that the Church not be thoroughly clericalized. He is very serious about overcoming clericalism. We need to always keep in mind that the fundamental sacrament of Christian life is not orders, but baptism. This is fundamental to the Council's teaching and an important retrieval for which we owe a debt to Protestant reformers.

Now, the Holy Father's expressed concerns do not by themselves exclude the possibility of women being ordained deacons. Obviously, the Holy Father sees this as an important matter. As a result, he is looking at the question in-depth. He is also serious about including women in the Church's governance. He has made notable strides regarding this in the Roman Curia.

Friday Second Week of Easter

Readings: Acts 5:34-42; Ps 27:1.4.13-14; John 6:1-15

As on Monday, in our readings today, we once again encounter a member of the Sanhedrin: Gamaliel. Rather than hearing about him from our Gospel, as with Nicodemus on Monday, we hear the wise words of Gamaliel in our first reading, taken from Acts.

Like Peter and John in the previous chapter of Acts, the events we hear about today come after the apostles are arrested, put in jail, and drug before the Sanhedrin. Their crime was the same: proclaiming Jesus as Lord and Messiah and healing in his name. It was the intent of those who arrested and charged them to stamp out this dangerous heresy before its spread stirred up more trouble.

Gamaliel intervenes by pointing out what appear to be two recent instances of false messiahs, or at least charismatic leaders, that drew the council’s attention. He notes that these movements died on their own without any intervention by Jewish authorities. He opines that perhaps this will be the case with Jesus’s followers. It seems fair to point out that, maybe having witnessed their preaching and miraculous deeds, Gamaliel felt this group, not yet known as Christians, was perhaps different.

It was Gamaliel’s unspoken admiration for the apostles, their works and preaching, that caused him not only to urge caution by citing examples of similar movements that burned themselves out but his admission that by harshly punishing its leaders the Sanhedrin might well be “fighting against God.”¹

Jesus Feeds the 5,000, by Jacopo Tintoretto, ca. 1579-1581

In our Gospel this morning, we hear John’s account of Jesus’s feeding of the 5,000. This is a text that has often been “de-mythologized.” What I mean by “de-mythologized,” is that some have argued that Jesus didn’t perform a miracle by making a lot of food out of a little food but that in convincing the boy to share his five barley loaves and 2 fishes, other members of the crowd shared their food as well. As a result, there was more than enough for everyone. Frankly, I don’t know which would be more of a miracle: Jesus inexplicably multiplying the little bit that was offered or everyone sharing what they had for the good of all.

What might be called "numerology" found in our Gospel reading is interesting: 5+2=7. Seven, of course, is the biblical number of perfection; twelve baskets leftover. Twelve is the number of the tribes of Israel. But rather than stretching for an esoteric exposition, I think a practical one is to be preferred.

In our first reading for last Sunday, also from Acts, we heard: “All who believed were together and had all things in common; they would sell their property and possessions and divide them among all according to each one’s need.”² As Pope Francis noted in his homily on Divine Mercy Sunday: “This is not some ideology: it is Christianity.” ³

No matter which explanation you accept for the miracle in today’s Gospel, you must always grasp that your participation in the Eucharist, in which you freely receive Jesus Christ, body, blood, soul, and divinity, requires you to freely and mercifully give to others, especially those in need. Grasping this is crucial for understanding what Jesus’s rising from the dead means. In other words, the Resurrection is not a one-off fact that happened nearly two thousand years ago. The on-going nature of resurrected life is what makes it the opus Dei, the work of God.

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1 Acts 5:39.^↩
2 Acts 2:44-45.^↩
3 Pope Francis homily for Divine Mercy Sunday, 2020.^↩

Monday Second Week of Easter

Readings: Acts 4:23-31; Ps 2:1-9; John 3:1-8

Now that the Octave of Easter is over, our Gospel this morning is not an account of the Lord’s resurrection. Rather, we hear a vignette (usually called a “pericope”) that takes place, according to Saint John’s Gospel, relatively early on in Jesus’s ministry. In this episode, Jesus is in Jerusalem teaching and presumably healing.

It would seem that after this first encounter with Jesus, Nicodemus remained one of his disciples, albeit a secret one. After the Lord’s death on the cross, it was Nicodemus, along with Joseph of Arimathea, who saw that Jesus was properly buried. Indeed, burying the dead was and remains one of the corporal works of mercy.

In today’s Gospel, Nicodemus seeks Jesus out at night because, as a member of the Sanhedrin, which was the Jewish council that governed at least Jerusalem under the Romans, he did not want anyone to see him talking to this Nazorean whose preaching and miracles were causing a stir. His approach to Jesus is fairly cautious. In response to Nicodemus’s statement about God being with him, Jesus does not say: “You’re very perceptive, Nicodemus. In fact, not only is God with me, I am God in the flesh.”

Jesus, as he seems wont to do, cuts to the chase, meaning gives the answer to the question that is really on Nicodemus’s heart: “unless one is born from above, he cannot see the Kingdom of God.”¹ In short, he tells Nicodemus about eternal life, which desire is what drew this member of the Jewish ruling class to the Nazorean peasant. But Nicodemus is confused by this answer. He takes it literally and rightly points out that everyone is only physically born once.

Of course, to heed Jesus’s summons would require Nicodemus to make his discipleship public. But he does not do this until after Jesus’s crucifixion when he helps to retrieve Jesus’s lifeless body and place it in the tomb. Jesus persists: “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless one is born of water and Spirit he cannot enter the Kingdom of God. What is born of flesh is flesh and what is born of spirit is spirit.”² In fact, you’re not really born until you are baptized.

Nicodemus Visiting Jesus, by Henry Ossawa Tanner, 1899

Jesus’s words here clearly point to baptism. But the Lord also links what we now call confirmation to baptism when he states: “The wind blows where it wills, and you can hear the sound it makes, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”³

As he is throughout most of the Acts of the Apostles, the Holy Spirit is the focal point of our first reading. The occasion is Peter’s and John’s release after they were hauled into the Sanhedrin on suspicion of heresy for teaching and healing in Jesus’s name and proclaiming him Messiah and Lord. The primitive Christian community was so happy that the two were free that they offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. Of course, “Eucharist” means “thanksgiving.”

So powerful was their prayer that “the place where they were gathered shook, and they were all filled with the holy Spirit and continued to speak the word of God with boldness.”⁴ This, my friends, is how people reborn to eternal life pray! Is this how we pray? Do we pray in the Holy Spirit’s power?

What does the community pray for? They pray that they continue to speak God’s word with boldness, heal the sick- like the crippled man Peter healed in the Temple, and perform other signs and wonders done in the name Jesus.⁵ One mistake we make is to see this as so much crazy charismania, meaning an uncontrolled and wild Pentecostalism. A “charism” is a gift of the Holy Spirit. Because every Christian is possessed of spiritual gifts, these can be used in a healthy manner. In light of this, a distinction can be made between “Charismatic” and “Pentecostal.”

As Jesus noted in speaking with Nicodemus, the Spirit blows where he will. In other words, we don’t have a repeatable formula for miraculously healing the sick or bringing about belief by performing amazing signs. But we can visit the sick, even in this time of pandemic. Like burying the dead, visiting the sick, too, is a corporal work of mercy. We can call people, email them, text, or use Skype and Zoom to check in on them, especially those whom we know don’t have anyone else to do so. We can use our resources to provide necessities for those in need.

Of course, we must be consistent and persistent in intercessory prayer, lifting up the needs of others to God, who is all-good and who is mercy itself. As far as speaking God’s word with boldness, as the Scripture tells us: “Always be ready to give an explanation to anyone who asks you for a reason for your hope, but do it with gentleness and reverence.”⁶

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1 John 3:3.^↩
2 John 3:5-6.^↩
3 John 3:8.^↩
4 Acts 4:31.^↩
5 Acts 4:29-30.^↩
6 1 Peter 3:15-16.^↩

Year A Second Sunday of Easter

Readings: Acts 2:42-47; Ps 118:2-4.13-15.22-24; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20:19-31

Catholic preachers often overlook the New Testament epistle reading. As a result, we frequently miss out on a great treasure trove of inspired wisdom. During this particular Easter season, both in the lectionary for Sunday Mass and in the Office of Readings, which is one of the offices that comprise the Liturgy of the Hours- the Church’s official prayer- the Church, our mater et magistra (i.e., mother and teacher), provides us with a lot of readings from the First Peter. Given this sacred book’s focus on suffering, this seems most fitting during this pandemic.

It is because the Church is in Year A of the three-year cycle of Sunday readings that we read from 1 Peter from this Sunday through the Seventh Sunday of Easter. While some readings feature it more explicitly than others, five out of the six readings broach the subject of suffering.

As the Buddha pithily observed: to live is to suffer. As Christ painstakingly showed: to love is to suffer. But then, to love is what it means to truly be alive. Theologian Herbert McCabe observed a long time ago: “if you don’t love you’re dead, and if you do, they’ll kill you.”¹ While it is abundantly clear that suffering, in its various forms, is an inherent part of human life, it’s important to note that God is not the cause of our suffering. On the contrary, humanity was the cause of the passion of the Christ.

In and through Christ’s passion and death, God- who is Father, Son, and Holy Spirit- redeemed suffering. In his very person, both in his suffering and his descent into hell, Christ retrieved human suffering from the void, from meaninglessness. Because Jesus himself, the Scripture teaches, “was tested through what he suffered, he is able to help those who are being tested.”²

In and through Christ, the alchemy of grace can turn the lead of suffering into the gold of glory.³ Being a Christian means being a person who steadfastly refuses to let suffering have the last word. It is our belief in Christ’s resurrection that makes us incorrigible about this. This is what our epistle reading tells us: that we rejoice in the “resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead,” which is the source of our “living hope.”⁴

While it certainly can, it is important that suffering doesn't diminish your living hope. Rather, suffering, when accepted- instead of denied or refused (both of which are futile responses)- and united with Christ’s suffering, can be, but is not necessarily, the fire through which your faith is strengthened.

Living this way, which cannot and does not attenuate the seriousness of suffering or dull its pain, will result in “praise, glory, and honor at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” When you think about it, not letting your suffering diminish your living hope is the very revelation of Jesus Christ, just as the crucifixion is the deepest revelation of God’s very self.

Beyond, enduring suffering in his Second Letter to the Corinthians, Saint Paul insisted that because of our living hope in the resurrection of Christ, in imitatio Christi, we can put our sufferings at the service of God’s redemptive purposes. Paul wrote:

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and God of all encouragement, who encourages us in our every affliction, so that we may be able to encourage those who are in any affliction with the encouragement with which we ourselves are encouraged by God⁵

Today's Gospel has two distinct parts. In the first part, we hear what we as Catholics usually describe as Christ’s institution of the Sacrament of Penance (i.e., confession). In part two, we hear about Thomas overcoming his doubt by seeing and believing. So, we might say that within one and the same Gospel reading the Church puts before us faith and doubt.

What ties faith and doubt together inextricably is the reality of suffering. Nothing produces doubt about God’s goodness, God’s power, or even God’s very existence more than suffering. Here’s a bit of good news: rather than denying suffering, or seeing it as God’s punishment for wayward humanity or an individual person who has misbehaved, or as the way God goes about accomplishing his purposes, the doubt caused by suffering is important, vital, perhaps even necessary for faith.

According to our epistle reading, doubt caused by suffering is what makes your faith “more precious” and more enduring “than gold that is… tested by fire.”⁶ Doubt is not the opposite of faith. Certainty is the opposite of faith. In the context of suffering, it is people who can always produce a reason for suffering, usually by the use of pious platitudes, that grate on us the most. As Rich Mullins sang: “I know it would not hurt any less/Even if it could be explained.”⁷ Suffering is a mystery because there is no explanation that eases our pain.

It is very important to point out something our Gospel for Divine Mercy Sunday makes very clear: the Risen Lord still bears the wounds of his crucifixion. This is perhaps the best explanation of suffering available to us. It is God telling us he has suffered with us and continues to suffer with us. It is this, perhaps more than anything, that enables us to believe without seeing.

On this Divine Mercy Sunday, let’s worship the God who is Mercy and dismiss the omnipotent moral monster of so many imaginations. Taking a cue from the closing prayer for the Chaplet of Divine Mercy: in difficult moments, like one we are presently experiencing, may we not despair nor become despondent, but with great confidence submit ourselves to God’s holy will, which is Love and Mercy itself.

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1 From Terry Eagleton, “Lunging, Flailing, Mispunching,” London Review of Books, Vol. 28 No. 20, 19 October 2006.^↩
2 Hebrews 2:18.^↩
3 Ken Boa, from the podcast “In the Studio with Michael Card.”^↩
4 1 Peter 1:3.^↩
5 2 Corithians 1:3-4.^↩
6 1 Peter 1:7.^↩
7 Rich Mullins lyrics to “Hard to Get.”^↩