April 2007 Sánchez Commentaries and Sample Homilies

PASSION OF THE LORD April 1, 2007 The Savagery of Sin

Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Isa 50:4-7 Phil 2:6-11 Luke 22:14-23:56

When asked to explain his reasons for directing and financing the movie, The Passion of the Christ, Mel Gibson cited several, not the least of which was the encouragement offered to artists by the late Pope John Paul II, viz., to do “redeemable work” that pierces the world’s darkness with the light of truth. When the film debuted in the Spring of 2004, it represented Gibson’s attempt to follow the pope’s advice. Portrayed in The Passion of the Christ are the last twelve hours of Jesus’ earthly life beginning with a poignant scene set in the garden of Gethsemane on the Mount of Olives. There, Jesus, whose part was acted by James Caviezel, is shown to be in the throes of a dilemma over whose will he would embrace, God’s or his own. His choice of, and acquiescence to, God’s will, did, as we all know and believe, lead Jesus on a horrendous journey through suffering, pain, rejection and humiliation to life and eternal glory. For its dramatic, graphic and shocking depictions of that journey, Gibson’s work received mixed reviews. Some welcomed the film as an affirmation of the extent of God’s love for sinners, calling it a graced meditation, worthy of its subject matter. But others, who called Gibson’s work “the most controversial film of all times” (Entertainment Weekly, 2006) panned the film as “simplistic and relentlessly pedantic with a NC 17 level of gore”(Steve Rhodes, Internet Reviews). “If Jesus actually received the amount of punishment dished out in this film,” wrote Jeffrey Westhoff (Northwest Herald, Capital Lake, Ill.), “he would have been dead three times over before arriving at Calvary.” Jeff Vice, a reviewer for the Deseret News in Salt Lake City, Utah, admitted that the film “does have its share of very powerful moments, but whether audience members will be able to concentrate on them amid the ultra-realistic and excruciating violence is questionable.” Also sympathetic to Gibson’s audience, Phil Villarreal (Arizona Daily Star) suggested that viewers would be “lost in a labyrinth of stomach-churning pugilism. The spectacle,” said Villarreal, “is a heavy cross for audiences to bear.” A. O. Scott of the New York Times agreed, insisting that “The Passion of the Christ is so relentlessly focused on the savagery of Jesus’ final hours … that it succeeds more in assaulting the spirit than in uplifting it.” Defending his work in a television interview with Diane Sawyer, Gibson admitted, “I wanted it to be shocking … and extreme so that they could see the enormity of that sacrifice, to see that someone could endure that and still come back with love and forgiveness even through extreme pain and suffering and ridicule.” Regardless of whatever else we may think of Gibson as regards his behavior, political leanings and religious preferences, it seems that his motivation here was genuine. For those among us who judge his portrayal of Jesus to be too extreme, too unrelenting, too realistic, or too savage, this writer asks “Isn’t human sin far more savage?” Don’t the all too common realities of abuse, apathy and neglect speak a sad commentary on the savage nature of the selfish human heart? Isn’t genocide a savage act? Isn’t greed, either personal or corporate, that would rob another of his/her livelihood equally base? Could we not also describe as savage the injustice that would reject another on the basis of race, social status, gender, age or religious persuasion? Cannot aggression between nations be deemed savage inasmuch as such violence implies that human lives are expendable and that the helpless innocents caught in the crossfire are simply inevitable statistics in the wars waged between the powerful? Indeed, wasn’t the passion of Jesus and all he innocently suffered for the sake of the guilty made all the more intense and unrelentingly extreme by human sin? Therefore, rather than be offended by a portrayal that shocks our sensibilities and leaves us disconcerted and uncomfortable, shouldn’t the horrifying sufferings of Jesus be our focus as we journey toward the celebration of life that is Easter and toward the forgiveness that has become our gift in Jesus? Surely it was the passion of Jesus that effected our salvation in a manner that was neither expected, nor welcomed, nor immediately understood. Only gradually did the early Christians realize that Jesus’ messiahship would not be exercised as a victorious general at the head of an unstoppable army. Only gradually, and not without surrendering their age-old hopes and preconceived ideas, did the first believers recognize that Jesus was indeed the Servant of the Isaian songs (first reading) who gave his back to his whip-wielding executioners, his cheeks to those who mocked him, his face to those who spit upon him, his life for those who cooperated in sending him to his death. That the early Christians did eventually become convinced of the crucial and necessary, albeit savage, cost of our salvation is shown in the fact that the account of Jesus’ passion was the first part of his story to be remembered, preserved and passed on. As the Lucan version of Jesus’ passion is proclaimed today among us as good news, might we not hear the echo of our own voices calling for his demise? “Away with him!” “Crucify him!” “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” Happily for us, however, even amidst these savage expressions of our lesser selves, we will also be blessed to hear “Father, forgive them” … “this day, you will be with me in paradise.” Despite the savagery of human sin and through the savagery of Jesus’ suffering and sacrifice, God’s forgiveness is made known and sinners are saved. Blessed with yet another opportunity for remembering, celebrating and reveling in a love that we have not earned and that we do not deserve, let us resolve to leave aside the savagery of sin and respond as best we can by worthily loving and serving God and one another.

Isa 50:4-7 No matter how many times we return to this description of the Isaian Servant, the figure remains a conundrum. Although he appears unappealing and unattractive, the person herein portrayed speaks with unparalleled eloquence of the mysterious ways of God. Made ugly and even repulsive by the sufferings that are heaped upon him by human sin, he carries himself gracefully, with the dignity that comes from bowing low before a will that is not his own and accepting to live his life according to that will, despite the physical, psychological and emotional cost. What does this figure who is both pitiable and proud have to teach us as we become reacquainted with his unexpected but necessary role in God’s saving plan? Perhaps this figure comes into our presence yet again to enable us to recognize and accept the large and small sufferings that come into our lives as large and small windows through which to see ourselves and God in a fresh and more intimate way. Through these windows, our weaknesses are revealed, as is our pain, but so also are the strength and support that God offers to those willing to suffer and serve for the sake of redemption. For the people of Israel, the figure of the Servant offered an example of one who remained faithful to God through all the struggles that his service to God entailed. Was this servant the prophet who is known to us only as Deutero-Isaiah? Or was it Jeremiah who was quite frank in sharing the personal cost of his service to the Word of God. Some suggest that the Israelites were to see, in the description of the Suffering Servant, a reflection of their own experience of suffering in exile and to use the experience as a vehicle for proclaiming the goodness and faithfulness of their Redeemer-God. Perhaps it is best that the Servant remained unidentified (until Jesus) so that all who struggle might see themselves in him and to rely completely, as he did, on God. Empowered and authorized to speak God’s word, that empowerment also enabled the Servant to endure the hostility and rejection engendered by his message. In fact, says Paul D. Hanson (Isaiah 40-66, John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1995) the abuse and shame heaped upon the Servant lost its power over him because of his awareness that God was his help and God would not allow him to be put to shame (v.7). As Hanson (op. cit.) has further noted, a very important dimension of the suffering of the faithful Servant comes into focus here. Through personal suffering, there steadily grows in him the capacity to uplift a whole community that has been driven near to defeat by the ever changing tides of history. It remains one of the more intriguing and edifying mysteries of life that those with the greatest ability to encourage others who struggle are often people who have discovered their special gifts of empathy and empowerment in the depths of their own personal suffering. This, the Servant did for his contemporaries. This, Israel was to do for the nations. This, Jesus did for all of humankind. This, we too, are called to do for one another.

Phil 2:6-11 Paul was not the first to recognize the manner in which Jesus took upon himself the “stuff” of humankind. Incarnated into every aspect, good and bad, of the human condition, Jesus willingly embraced all that we are so as to “uplift a whole community that had been driven near to defeat” (Hanson, op. cit.) by human sin. In this early Christian hymn which he borrowed and quoted to his beloved believers in Philippi, Paul reaffirmed an already accepted belief, viz., that Jesus’ ability to encourage others who struggle arose from the empathy for humankind that he had learned from his time among us and particularly during the suffering he endured for sinners. In this beautiful and rhythmic attestation of Christian faith, the loving self-giving of the innocent Jesus for his sinful brothers and sisters is described as kenotic or as an emptying of self not unlike that of the Suffering Servant (first reading) or Jeremiah, or Amos, or Ezekiel, or Mary or like Paul himself. Brendan Byrne (“The Letter to the Philippians,” The New Jerome Commentary Prentice Hall, Englewood Cliffs, N.J.: 1990), while acknowledging the vast development of kenotic christologies that have sprung from this text, suggests that kenosis should be appreciated here in a metaphorical sense along the lines of Paul’s similar use of the same verb (kenoun) in Rom 4:14 where it means “to be rendered powerless, ineffective.” Metaphorically, then, this hymn asserts that Christ freely surrendered his power in order to become powerless, just as a slave is without power. This he did because human existence, before redemption was, essentially. a slavery to sin and to death. Jesus took on this slavery in a desire to obey God and he remained obedient unto death (v.8). Throughout his whole life, explains Byrne (op. cit.), Christ lived out perfectly the demands of human existence before God. His death, therefore was not simply the termination of his obedience; rather, Christ’s dying was the inevitable consequence of being fully human (powerless except for the power he found in God) and totally obedient in a world characterized by total disobedience. In referencing this hymn for the church in Philippi, Paul was in effect summoning his readers to live as Jesus did, to surrender to powerlessness as he did, to be obedient in every way as he was, so as to be one with him in the downward, then upward, journey of salvation. That journey began in God, reached its ultimate earthly climax on the cross and then its eternal climax in glory at the right hand of God. As believers, as disciples, we are challenged, by faith and through obedience, to travel a similar path. More often than not, this journey of obedience will be characterized by struggle or what our Hispanic brothers and sisters refer to as la lucha. As Ada María Isasi-Díaz (En La Lucha / In the Struggle: Elaborating a Mujerista Theology, Fortress Press, Minneapolis, Minn.: 1993) has pointed out, this struggle is one of self-determination and self-definition; it is a struggle to be fully. With a nod of respect and agreement to Isasi- Diaz, believers in Christ share in the same sort of struggle, to be fully given, to be fully obedient, to be fully determined to live according to God’s will; to be defined as being fully Christ’s. As we celebrate today all that Jesus has been and is being, and will be, for us and for all sinners, so shall we resolve to be likewise for God, for Christ, for others.

Luke 22:14-23:56 Critics of Martin Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ were quite vocal in their contempt for the manner in which the film maker depicted Jesus as vacillating and his final hours as filled with conflict, ambiguity and tension. However, and as Peter Gomes (Sermons, Biblical Wisdom for Daily Living, William Mason and Co. Inc., New York, N.Y.: 1998), this is precisely the manner in which the evangelists, and this year Luke, have represented the Passion. There are conflicts of mood, the vacillation of the will and a confusion of sentiments. The crowd that shouted “Hosanna!” also called out “Crucify him!” The Son and Savior who experienced such agony as to pray, “if it is your will take this cup from me” would also summon the strength to obey and say, “not my will but yours be done.” Faithful friends and disciples in one moment became deserters and deniers in the next. Indeed, even the brazen thief, says Gomes, that most cynical commentator on the cross, voiced the question that pointed out the irony and ambiguity of Calvary. He asked, “Aren’t you the Messiah? Then save yourself and us.” Isn’t that truly the question that arises in each of us as we make our annual descent in to the hell of Jesus’ suffering? If you truly are God incarnate, Son of God and Savior, then save yourself and us from going through your humiliation, abasement, rejection, abandonment and death. But Jesus does not save himself. He draws us into his suffering yet again so that we might not simply watch it, as in a film or play, or listen to it as Luke’s passion is read. Rather, Jesus, the Lucan Jesus, this year, draws us in so that we might share in human suffering as he did. This Jesus does, insists Gomes, so that we might weep as he did at the brokenness of what is meant to be whole, to see the world as it was meant to be and to experience it as fractured and shattered. Jesus draws us in to his passion so that we might weep at the injustice he suffered and that continues to exist, to decry to violence, deprivation and depravity, as these continue to plague our world, to enter into his sorrows as if they were our own because they are our own. Jesus suffered and died, not to spare us the burden of a wounded world but that we might see the wounds as our own and embrace and attend them accordingly. Nowhere does the wounded, suffering Jesus manifest a more loving embrace of our wounded world and sinners than in the Lucan passion narrative. Only in Luke does the suffering Jesus redirect the eyes of the weeping women toward themselves, their sufferings and those of their children. Only the tortured Lucan Jesus asks forgiveness for his executioners on the grounds that “they do not know what they are doing.” Only the suffering Lucan Jesus confidently promises a place in paradise to one who asked for remembrance in his kingdom. Only the dying Lucan Jesus cries out, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit,” fully aware that through all his pain and struggle God’s will for the salvation of sinners was being accomplished. Thanks to these Lucan insights into the suffering and dying Jesus we recognize the depths of God’s love for sinners, the extravagant cost of our forgiveness, and the responsibility we have, until Jesus comes again, to tend the wounds of this world, as did he, as if they were our own – for so they are.

Sample Homily for April 1, 2007 Passion/Palm Sunday “Luke’s Passion” by Patrick Marrin

The Gospel According to Luke has been called the gospel of prayer, the gospel of women and the gospel of compassion because it stops to pay attention to these themes and the stories about them. Luke’s account of the Passion of Jesus is characterized by these same themes. Jesus prays with great intensity in the garden, drops of blood mingling with his sweat. He prays from the cross, asking his Father to forgive those who are killing him. “They know not what they do.” He reserves his final breath to pray, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.” On his way to Golgotha, Jesus stops to acknowledge the grief of the women of Jerusalem, and their prophetic insight that his death also signals the failure of the holy city to avert coming disaster and destruction. Even in his death throes, Jesus is alert to the needs of others. He will die in the place of Barabbas. He hears the appeal of the thief crucified with him and promises him paradise. His Passion, to the end, is for the sake of sinners, and his surrender to the will of God is expressed in his fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, that God’s chosen one must suffer and die for the salvation of all the people. We are indebted to Luke for small details that reveal the deeper connections and implications of Jesus’ death. He is betrayed by a friend, one of his own disciples, who kisses him. He is denied by Peter, chosen to lead the others to faith. His final hours reveal the complicity and corruption of power in both Pilate and Herod. Arrested by the Temple police, he is beaten during his interrogation, mocked by Herod’s court, flogged by Pilate’s soldiers, even though Pilate has judged him innocent of any capital offense, and then executed to avoid a public disturbance. Though innocent, he is exchanged for another prisoner guilty of murder. His death is not just a public execution, but a method of killing designed to humiliate, torture and prolong the agony of the victim. Jesus’ death is routine for the soldiers, who wile away the hours on Golgotha by gambling for the few possessions of the condemned. Scene by scene, sentence by sentence, Luke’s Passion is heart- breaking, and it is meant to move us to compassion. We are invited to stand with the women who weep as Jesus staggers past. We are invited to identify with Simon of Cyrene, drafted to take up Jesus’ cross in order to insure that he survives long enough to be nailed to it. The reading of the Passion is meant to be felt as much as listened to. Only the heart can grasp the full weight of the tragedy unfolding in the events of Jesus’ death. We are invited to join our own personal suffering and losses to Jesus’ way of the cross. And we, as baptized members of his body in the world, are meant to invoke all of the terrible suffering the world has experienced in the past year. Only here, in this hour, will any of it make any sense. This is our work for Holy Week. It will prepare us to feel Easter.

Sample Homily for April 5, 2007, Holy Thursday “Table Talk” by Fr. James Smith

Let's look around the table and wonder what each apostle is thinking about their friend, Jesus. Which says something about themselves Peter is thinking something like this: After all this time together, I still can't figure him out. Just when I think I know what he's doing, I say something stupid. And he looks at me with an undisguised mixture of disappointment and acceptance. But the hardest time was when I promised him that he would not be killed -- and he called me a devil! What is this death wish he seems to have picked up? Naturally, I don't want him to die, because I like him. But more than that, I wonder if I can handle it. I have no doubt at all that Jesus could face death undisturbed. But could I stand there with him -- or would I run a away and leave my friend to die alone? James and John, being twins with the same DNA and life experience, tend to think alike. Jesus called them the Sons of Thunder for a reason. They are thinking: We have been nudging ourselves to the top of the apostolic pile. And with the lobbying of our mother, we will probably be Secretary of State and Secretary of Defense in the Kingdom. What a joy it will be to see the fear in the faces of the Roman soldiers. After kicking us around for decades, now we will let them see how it feels to be a subjugated people, depending on someone else's condescension. How sweet revenge will be! Matthew thinks: For the first time since childhood I finally feel part of something. When I lost my little farm for not being able to pay the Roman taxes, I couldn't find a job in this poor economy. So, in desperation, I took a job collecting taxes. It is ironic that I now tax poor people like I was to give to the despised foreigners. Of course, the job threw me out of good standing with my fellow Jews, so I was an outcast. Jesus doesn't seem to mind my infamy. But I will have to tell him that if he keeps giving the collection away, we'll soon be broke. Simon is at the end of the table, thinking worrisome thoughts. I am not sure I belong in this bunch. I am a zealot, sworn to fight the Romans to the death and take back our own land. Jesus looked like the real thing: a crowd pleasure with a message. But just when he stirs the people up to the point where they might crown him king, he runs away to pray. That may be his way of building tension to the point of rebellion. So, I will hang around for a while to see how it goes. But if it starts to look like he will be squashed, I'm out of here. Not because I'm afraid of death, but so I can live to fight for the real messiah. Naïve Nathaniel is happily without thoughts, just drinking in the atmosphere. But if he would think, it would sound like this: What a life -- I have finally found my space in the world. I never felt comfortable with people, never cared about the things they did, never wanted the things they did. But I finally found someone who thinks like me. At least I think so. I have no idea how the poor can be blessed or how the meek will end up with the land or how the sorrowful will rejoice. It makes no sense. But it feels so good. And when Jesus says it, I just know that it will somehow happen someday. Thomas is lounging a little outside the circle. Timorous Tom is thinking about the ambivalent message of Jesus. He doesn't seem to know what he wants or when he wants it. An earthly kingdom or a heavenly reward, now or whenever? Sometimes, Jesus looks like the real thing, sometimes, a near miss. I am not sure about his message; maybe he's making it up as he goes along. But I have absolutely no doubt about the messenger. I would follow him into hell. Judas has dark, troubling thoughts: I know that Jesus is hell bent for some kind of confrontation. But I cannot tell if it is with the Romans or the Jews. I'm up for either fight -- they are both living on the fumes of past glory. But while Jesus wavers, each of his opponents is gathering forces against him. If he doesn't declare his intention soon, the rebellion will be crushed before it starts. So, I will help Jesus make up his mind. I will offer him to both the priests and the soldiers to see which one buys him. That will set things up for a showdown. Then Jesus will be forced to show his hand. And I will know where I stand. Let's leave them to finish their meal and decide their destinies.

RESURRECTION OF THE LORD

April 8, 2007

Defeating Death Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Acts 10:34, 37-43 Col. 3:1-4; 1 Cor 5:6-8 Luke 24:1-12

When faith in the resurrection of Jesus first took hold of the hearts and minds of the earliest Christians, they proclaimed their belief with credal formulae that were at once simple and profound, e.g., God has raised Jesus! Jesus is Lord! Jesus lives! Jesus is risen! As these declarations attest, the resurrection of Jesus was interpreted as divine approbation and vindication of the life and the mission, the suffering and the dying of Jesus. In today’s Lucan gospel, God’s vindication of Jesus is eloquently voiced by two witnesses at his tomb: “Why do you seek the living one among the dead? He is not here, but he has been raised.” When he, for his part, came to believe in Jesus and in Jesus- risen, Paul became the earliest New Testament writer to enunciate the centrality and importance of the resurrection of Jesus for the Christian faith (1 Cor 15). Like Luke (Acts, first reading), with whom he appears to have shared both his ministry and his travels, Paul recognized the universal reach of the resurrection event, affirming that everyone who believes has the power to appropriate the forgiveness that was won for all by the dying and rising of Jesus. Like his contemporaries and like us, Paul understood that through the resurrection of Jesus, sin and death, have been conquered and all the redeemed and liberated are thereby empowered to live by resurrection grace, not only at death, but in the here and now. This grace, as is reflected in both choices for today’s second reading (Colossians and 1 Corinthians) requires a redirection of one’s energies and of one’s heart so as to be able to focus on eternal rather than transitory realities, on sincerity and truth rather than on corruption and wickedness. Such Easter faith, insists Jurgen Moltmann (The Power of the Powerless, Harper Collins Pub. San Francisco, Calif.: 1983) sees the raising of Jesus as God’s protest against death and against all who work for death; Easter faith recognizes God’s passion for the life of the person who is threatened and burdened by death. Those who have faith in what God has done in Jesus can participate in this protest against death by rising above apathy and misery and by climbing out of the cynicism of prosperity to battle against death’s accomplices here and now in this life. However, and as Moltmann has further noted, world-weary believers have too often deleted this critical and liberating power from Easter. This omission causes faith to degenerate into a merely intellectual assent to certain tenets and dogmas and an almost pitiable hope for the next world, as if death were no more than an enemy awaiting us at the end of our earthly lives. But death is a power in the here and now; its evil clutches have a stranglehold on so many in our world. Says Moltmann, it is the economic death of those whom we allow to starve from famine, the political death of those countless lives that struggle with oppression; the social death of the handicapped, the lonely, the abused, the neglected, the misunderstood; the noisy death that strikes with missile and bomb, torture and violence; the soundless death of the apathetic and purposefully ignorant. Since death reigns here and now, so also must the power of Jesus’ resurrection and our sharing in it begin to rise up and confront the insidious powers of death, here and now, and wherever they threaten to diminish or destroy life. Therefore, it becomes both the privilege and the responsibility of believers in Jesus-risen to bring their faith to bear upon death in the form of revolt and protest against it, while giving of themselves fully to the preservation and promotion of life. These actions of revolt, protest and self-giving become possibilities for believers through the action of the Spirit, released upon the world and all of humankind through the rising of Jesus Christ to life. Wisely, Moltmann warns against allowing protest and revolt to desolve into mere accusation and campaigns that are content solely to criticize and identify death’s problems in our world without doing anything to resolve them. Resurrection hope and joy, and the service that these inspire and empower, will fuel our active participation in plans and policies and programs that realistically and practically rout death and the culture of death from our midst. Death, as we know, has many faces. Some are easily recognizable; others are more deceiving and seductive. Whatever the face it presents and however it manifests itself in our lives or in the lives of others, death is Easter’s enemy and, therefore, our opponent as well. With God, with Jesus, with all other believers, we protest death in the same breath that we celebrate our freedom from death and work for its defeat. Anyone, insists Moltmann, who fails to hold these things together, viz., protest, celebration and service has failed to appreciate the resurrection of the crucified Jesus. As those who do appreciate all that God has done for us in Jesus, we celebrate the resurrection of Jesus in this holy place and with one voice. Then we shall go forth from this place and into our separate lives with renewed zeal for battling death with hope, with joy, with life.

Acts 10:34, 37-43 Part of a lengthy narrative (10:1-11:18) in which Luke details the conversion of Cornelius and the realization on the part of Peter et al. that the good news of salvation was intended for Gentiles as well as for Jews, this pericope represents Peter’s proclamation of that good news at Cornelius’ home in Caesarea. A landmark event for the nascent Christian community, Luke attests to its significance by the sheer length of his narrative and by the fact that it is, in effect, told twice over; it is also referenced again in summary in 15:7-9. Further attestation to the importance of the reception of the Gentiles into the Church is, unfortunately, lost in certain translations of this text. Whereas the NAB, NRSV, JB, and NJB introduce Peter’s speech or sermon in a similar manner, e.g. “Peter began to speak,” or “Peter addressed them,” the Rheims NT and RSV preserve the momentousness of the occasion by rendering verse 34a: “And Peter opened his mouth.” Similar phraseology signalled the weightiness of the Great Sermon (Matt 5:2) and underscores, in this context, the importance of the universal scope of God’s saving purpose. Having established God’s purpose and the worthiness of those present to hear the good news, Peter proceeded to proclaim the kerygma or the essential expression of the Christian faith. Included in this proclamation are these basic elements of Christian belief, viz., that Jesus (1) was sent by God and empowered by the Spirit; (2) exercised a ministry of healing and doing good; (3) was crucified, died and rose to life; (4) was witnessed as risen; (5) commissioned others to continue his mission of preaching and healing; (6) brought to humankind forgiveness and the gift of a new relationship with God. Because of Jesus, that relationship, once interrupted by human sin, shall endure forever and shall be enjoyed by all who hold God in awe and live accordingly (Acts 10:35). To better appreciate this declaration of faith in Jesus, William Willimon (Acts, John Knox Press, Atlanta, Ga.: 1988) invites readers to take note of the fact that Luke does not portray Peter as basing his sermon on any Hebrew proof text. Rather, the affirmation of Jesus as Savior is a theological statement supported by the experience and faith of the disciples. Although Jesus is the fulfillment of the Law and the Prophets, Peter does not rely on these and finds himself on what Willimon calls “risky terrain,” without Scripture or tradition to back him up. This remains a challenge for the Church. If Jesus is Lord, and Jesus is indeed our Lord and God, then it is our task as believers to penetrate the mystery of his person and mission in order to discover there the surprises and new implications of the gospel that cannot be explained on any basis other than the fact that the Lord has led us to those discoveries and implications. This does not give us permission to sell only our own ideas, as it were, or to ride on the coattails of the latest trends in culture. Rather, insists Willimon, such probing into the mystery of Jesus’ Lordship is simply an attempt to keep up with the ongoing redemptive activity of God. For Peter, that day in Cornelius’ home, probing into the mystery of the risen Jesus opened his eyes and heart to what was, for Peter, hitherto unthinkable, viz., that God loves and forgives and desires the salvation of Gentiles! What shall our probing into the mystery of Jesus lead us to discover? Shall we be open to what God shall reveal or will we dismiss what we discover as unthinkable?

Col. 3:1-4; 1 Cor 5:6-8 In a recently televised documentary on Cuban citizens who relocated to Miami after the Battista government was overthrown in 1959, many of those interviewed spoke of their lives as they had lived them BC, i.e., before Castro. So distinct from one another were the regimes of Battista and Castro that, for most, it seemed like the differences between day and night. Couldn’t the times before and after the Christ-event be similarly compared? With Christ the darknesses of sin, death and evil have been conquered and a new era has dawned. Life in Christ has become as different as the day is from the night. To acclaim the significance of the action of God in Jesus, believers have adopted a distinctive convention for marking time, referring to that period before Christ as BC (Before Christ) and to the time in which we continue to live, after the first coming of Christ as AD (Anno Domini). In both choices for today’s second reading, i.e., in the disputed and probably non- Pauline letter to the Colossians, as well as in Paul’s first letter to the Church of Corinth, believers are urged to allow the Christ event to similarly impact their lives. Before Christ, as both authors attest, humankind was anchored to the things of earth but, with the coming of Christ, this anchor has been weighed. Therefore, with Christ, in Christ, and because of Christ, life on this side of the Christ-event is redirected. Our focus is not solely on the temporal, or on things below, which are fleeting, here today and gone tomorrow. Rather, our focus ─ and therefore our energies ─ are on God and all that pertains to everlasting realities. We put aside what ties us to temporariness in order to give oneself to forever. We set aside our past evil ways just as the Jews swept the old leaven from their homes to prepare for Passover. Leaven symbolized the lesser human self that surrenders to corruption and wickedness, but the presence of Christ in our midst and in each of our lives calls forth our better selves to live in sincerity and truth. German pastor and advocate of social justice, Christoph F. Blumhardt (Action in Waiting, Plough Publishing House, Farmington, Pa.: 1998) once suggested that when human beings choose to live their lives in the risen Christ, a new life comes into being. This new life is not just a notch above one’s former way of life. It is not, Blumhardt has explained, simply trying to be better than other people. Nor is it lying less, gossiping less or being less self-absorbed. This new life means that forces for life can now be seen within the believer, that something of God and of eternity, something holy is growing within. It means that one can actually see that it is no longer sinful desires that have power, but Christ’s resurrection. For this reason, we believers have the capacity to bring hope into every venue of daily life, into everything at which we work and into anything and anyone we touch. Because of Easter we do not live just a notch above, we live life anew. Therefore, we must ask the risen Christ to fill our longing and our openness with more and more of his resurrection, with more and more of the Christ event, until this life- power runs over and the powers from on high permeate all we are and all we do and, through us, our world.

Luke 24:1-12 (an alternative choice to John 20: 1-9, as offered in the Liturgical Calendar) Functioning as interpreters of the resurrection of Jesus, the two men in dazzling garments informed the women whom came to the tomb on that long ago Sunday that the one they sought to anoint was not there. “He has been raised,” they affirmed. Then the holy pair called upon the women to remember what Jesus had told them. And so they did, and in their remembering, they became convinced of what they had seen and heard and hurried to proclaim the same to the apostles. “Remembering,” as John Gillman (Luke, Stories of Joy and Salvation, New City Press, Hyde Park, N.Y.: 2002) has explained, “is used here in the rich biblical sense of realizing that Jesus’ past words and actions have a significant connection to the present.” Remembering is the process whereby those recalled words and actions from the past begin to live again and speak to the present reality. Though they had come to mourn Jesus as one lost to them forever, through the proclamation of the interpreters and through their own remembering, the women became aware that they had reason to celebrate Jesus as risen and so they believed. Their remembering, insists Fred B. Craddock (Luke John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1990) activated their power of recognition. For this reason it is important that teachers and preachers continue to share with all who will listen the account of the Christ-event. Such sharing may not strike a chord of recognition at the time or even be valued as having necessary relevance. However, the time will come when those who have heard the story will remember and the movement toward faith will then be prompted. But one cannot remember what one has not heard. So, listen we must. Share we must. Remember and proclaim we must, until the seeds of faith are awakened and begin to grow in every human heart. Although a powerful witness, the fact of the empty tomb, narrated in the gospel, should be appreciated as secondary and subordinate to the appearance of the risen Jesus and the narratives that explain how he was experienced by his own. However, when the witness of the empty tomb is joined to the witness of those who saw the risen Christ, it serves to support and strengthen the church’s proclamation: “Jesus is risen!” When the women made this proclamation, some thought it to be nonsense and refused to believe. But Peter was moved to go to see the tomb for himself and, as Luke tells his readers, he was full of amazement. We who know the rest of the story are aware that Peter’s amazement developed into genuine faith such that he who had, at various times, misunderstood Jesus plan (Luke 9:33), fallen asleep when Jesus needed his support (Luke 22:45-46) and denied the suffering Jesus (Luke 22:54-62) became an avid proclaimer of the risen Christ (Acts, first reading). Peter’s journey from hearing, to following, to believing, to questioning, to denying, to amazement, to faith is one that each of us travels in our lifetime. From his blunders each of us can learn to rely more heavily on grace and on the forgiveness and compassion of God who affords those who stumble another chance. From Peter’s faith and admirable service in Jesus’ name after his resurrection, each of us can find a model to emulate as we too continue believing and serving the cause of the good news until Jesus comes again.

JOHN 20:1-9 (Alternate Gospel) Darkness and light, light and darkness; the interplay of these two opposites form a recurring motif in the fourth Gospel. It seems quite fitting that this motif should continue throughout the resurrection narratives. Darkness, a symbol of all that is not right with the world — sin, death, evil — is made to yield to the power of Jesus-risen, who brings forgiveness, life and an end to the chokehold of evil on the world. As Mary Magdalene comes to the tomb, the Johannine evangelist tells his readers that “it was still dark.” “Darkness will last,” insists Raymond Brown (The Gospel of John, Doubleday, New York, NY: 1066), “until someone believes in the risen Jesus.” That someone in this particular narrative will be “the other disciple, the one Jesus loved” (v. 2), or, as we know him, John. Although the empty tomb is only a secondary witness to the resurrection of Jesus, and one that could be readily misunderstood (notice that Mary Magdalene saw the tomb empty and assumed that someone had taken away the body of Jesus), it functions, nevertheless, as an important feature of this narrative because of the reaction of John. “He saw and believed.” Was his faith prompted by the details about Jesus’ burial cloths? Perhaps. Obviously, if someone had come to steal the body, it is unlikely that they would have risked taking the time to unwrap it and place the cloths in two different places — one on the ground and the other rolled up in a place by itself. However, Brown (op. cit.) suggests that such reasoning does not explain why neither Mary Magdalene nor Simon Peter was moved to faith at seeing the garments. A better explanation involves Johannine symbolism. Recall that Lazarus came forth from the tomb “tied hand and foot with burial bands and his face wrapped in a cloth” (John 11:44). Jesus left a similar set of wrappings in the tomb. Lazarus was resuscitated to resume his natural life; he would eventually die again and be similarly bound in burial garments. But Jesus, who was resurrected to eternal life, left his burial bonds behind forever. This, John saw and believed. To explain the contrasting faith of John with the lack of understanding on the part of Peter and Mary, the evangelist added the aside that “as yet, they did not understand the scripture that Jesus had to rise from the dead” (v. 9). Notice that we are not told that Peter did not believe; rather, he did not yet understand. As Brown (op. cit.) has further noted, the evangelist’s intent was not to denigrate Peter. After all, he too was one of Jesus’ own whom he loved to the very end (13:1, 36) and one who stayed with Jesus when others left his company because he recognized and believed that Jesus was the Holy One who had the words of eternal life (6:66-69). What the evangelist was emphasizing here was not Simon Peter’s (or Mary’s) lack of faith, but the extraordinary sensitivity of the other disciple. That sensitivity was born of a love that enabled him to believe and to hope. As featured in the fourth Gospel, that “other disciple” who loved and was beloved by Jesus had rested his head on Jesus’ chest at their last meal together (13:25). After Jesus’ arrest, that other disciple made his way to the courtyard of the high priest and, once inside, arranged for Peter also to be admitted (18:15-16). That other disciple was present with Jesus’ mother at the site of his crucifixion, and it was to him that Jesus entrusted her care with the touching words, “Behold your son; behold your mother” (19:26-27). Obviously, and as is increasingly clear in the Johannine Gospel, the other disciple whom Jesus loved was revered as a hero within the community that heard, preserved, developed and handed on the good news that we attribute to John. For us, he remains an exemplar of faith that grows from love. He first came to faith without seeing Jesus. Now, he has shared with us that experience so that we, who do not see and yet believe, will be encouraged and affirmed in our own faith. By this faith, we are empowered to live as risen beings in the here and now and to revel in the realization that, like our older brother and mentor in the faith, each of us is beloved by Jesus.

Sample Homily for April 8, 2007 Easter Sunday “And God Sighed, ‘Live!’ ” by Fr. James Smith

Resurrection means different things to different people. For the disciples, who enjoyed a close relationship with Jesus, it probably meant that they were happy that he didn’t stay dead; and they wanted to be wherever he was doing what he was doing — just like the good old days. Without any theological training, they had no language to describe the resurrection event. So, they turned to the traditional method of storytelling. That is why there are different and contradictory accounts of resurrection appearances. They do not recognize Jesus and then they do; he appears to one and then to 500; he is immaterial enough to walk through closed doors but physical enough to eat meals with them. Different stories try to portray the fact that Jesus was the same yet different; different but the same. We have had 2,000 years to ponder this mystery. And great minds have meditated on its manifold aspects. But we could reduce them to three concepts: resurrection is about the body, it is about the person, it is about the Christ. Most people probably think of eternal life in terms of immortality of the soul. But that is a pagan idea — that since the soul can experience truth, goodness and beauty, it should be able to do that forever. But since the body inhibited the soul, death was seen as a liberation of soul from body, which, having done its earthly work for the heavenly soul, dissolved into nothingness. Resurrection exalts in the body. The body is not a temporary tool of the soul but its partner. There is no separation of body and soul on earth — nor will there be in heaven. An old maxim says that there is nothing in the soul that did not come through the body. Our bodies give our souls something to work with; our souls mold our bodies by exercising them through various decisions. Resurrection means that our body will remain an integral part of us — in glorified form. The resurrection is about the person. Even though the body gives the soul its raw material to work on, the soul takes those sensory perceptions to a different level. Every body offers its soul basically the same input, but each soul interprets that input uniquely. Each body/soul transaction is a conscious decision, a free choice, which forms a unique person. That body/soul person is who is resurrected. Resurrection is about the Christ. We say that Christ rose from the dead, but that is not accurate. Jesus was totally dead — he could not lift himself back to life by his own death-straps. Only someone outside the life and death could hoist him back from death. Jesus battled death magnificently — and lost. Then, with unspeakable sadness and desperate love, God cradled his mangled Son in his arms and sighed: “Live!” And that is how we will be resurrected. Not because we are good, or immortal, but because we are joined at the hip with Christ. If we live and die with our Elder Brother we will die and live with him. As Hopkins had it: “In an instant, I am what Christ is because he was what I am.” Science and theology cannot begin to conceive how a dead person could be revived — and then live forever. But the poet knows. Emily Dickinson, the Maid of Amherst, wrote: “Love is the Fellow of Resurrection scooping up the dust and chanting: “Live.”

SECOND SUNDAY OF EASTER

April 15, 2007

An Evolving Church Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Acts 5:12-16 Rev 1:9-11, 12-13, 17-19 John 20:19-31

Although only a week has passed since our annual celebration of Jesus’ resurrection and while that central tenet will continue to inform and inspire our worship together for the remainder of the Easter season and always, and although it may not be clearly evident at first glance, we have, indeed, made our way from one period of our salvation history into another. We have turned the page, as it were, from the time of Jesus of Nazareth who came among us as one of us, who went about doing good, who suffered for his goodness and for the truth and justice of his teaching, who died innocently for the sake of sinners and who rose to live eternally in glory … we have turned that page and have begun to enter the time of the Church. We remember the people of that time, whose experiences, beliefs and convictions contributed to the process whereby the proclaimer of the good news became the proclaimed. Each of today’s readings and, in fact, the entire New Testament has been prompted by that very conviction, viz., that Jesus came and lived and died and rose to declare the irrupting reign of God in time and space. But in the aftermath of Jesus’ earthly ministry, the Church appeared and with it the Scriptures that are at once an expression of faith in the Christ- event and an attempt to bring the graced and redemptive consequences of that event to bear on every aspect of the human condition. In today’s first reading from the second volume of Luke’s contribution to the Christian Scriptures, the evangelist has lent his considerable talents and energies to illustrating the legitimacy of the Church and its teachings as well as the continuity of the Church’s mission with that of Jesus. To that end, Luke portrays the apostles, the recognized and accepted leaders of the followers of the Way, doing as Jesus had done, e.g., working signs and wonders, meeting in Solomon’s Portico, healing the sick, casting out unclean spirits and welcoming into the community those who were being continually added to the Lord. Sensitive to the challenges posed to his contemporaries, viz., of accepting the Church as the legitimate successor of Jesus by whom the words and works of Jesus would continue to be made known, Luke was intent upon offering asphaleia (Luke 1:4) or the certainty that would be needed to accept the Church in that capacity and to become active and contributing participants in its mission. Throughout the coming weeks, Luke will keep us in close contact with the efforts of those who have gone before us so as to encourage us to continue promoting and serving in the process of redemption. Today’s second reading and gospel come to us from the Johannine church that claimed the Beloved Disciple, John, as its leader and inspiration. By the time the Johannine literature appeared at the end of the first Christian century, John the evangelist may have already died, but the literary legacy he prompted begged to live on and continue to speak his insights regarding the Christ-event. Just as John the Seer had received visions from the Lord (second reading, Revelation) which he interpreted for his contemporaries so as to foster their faith and encourage their continued commitment to Christ in troubled times, so would the Church continue to serve, in the same capacity, when John’s voice was silenced by death. In his poem, “A Death in the Desert,” Robert Browning offers his literary assessment of the necessary process of development through which the Johannine Church had to grow in order to survive the passing into memory of those who had known the earthly Jesus: “When my ashes scatter,” says John, “there is left on earth no one alive who knew – saw with his eyes and handled with his hands That which was from the first, the Word of Life. How will it be when none more saith, ‘I saw’?” Indeed. when there were none who could claim to be eyewitnesses and therefore authoritative teachers about Jesus, the early believers had to be reminded, as we are reminded in today’s gospel, that the living legacy of Jesus, the legacy of the Holy Spirit, continues to breathe life and purpose and legitimacy into the community he left behind. Through the presence and by the power of the Spirit, the message of the good news continues to speak and voice its truth to the ever changing times and evolving circumstances of the human community. Through the presence and power of the Spirit, we began to be and we continue to be ekklēsia, i.e., Church. As Wes Howard-Brook (The Church Before Christianity, Orbis Books, Maryknoll, N.Y.: 2001) has pointed out, literally the Greek term ekklēsia means “called out.” Therefore the Church is a community of people called by the Spirit of Jesus to live as an alternative society in the midst of the world. During the next several weeks, the Church will be reminded of the alternative values, convictions and lifestyle it is to offer; we shall also be renewed with grace so as to continue speaking the words and doing the works of Jesus in the world.

Acts 5:12-16 In Acts 1:8, readers of the Acts of the Apostles are offered what Raymond E. Brown (The Churches the Apostles Left Behind, Paulist Press, New York, N.Y.: 1984) has called a table of contents of the book. There the geographical line of the Church’s divinely intended mission is traced: “You shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you and you shall be my witnesses in Jerusalem and all of Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.” In each place along that missionary route, and as Luke has noted in today’s first reading, “men and women in great numbers were added to the Lord” (v. 14). By attributing its missiology, its motivation (the Spirit) and its considerable growth and development to God, Luke established the Church as a movement that had both divine and human dimensions. Not a “fly-by-night” trend or a “flash-in-the pan” phenomenon, the Church was meant to be an enduring and significant force for good in the world. Something of that goodness is attested in this, the third Lucan description (see also 2:42-47; 4:32-35) of the nascent community of believers in Jesus. This description, as William Barclay (“The Acts of the Apostles,” The Daily Study Bible, The Saint Andrew Press, Edinburgh, UK: 1976) has explained, tells us three things about the early Church, viz., (1) that they met in one of the two great colonnades which surrounded the temple. Constant in their devotion to the Temple and the presence of God, these first Christians drew their strength and sustenance therefrom; (2) that they assembled in a public place, their openness attesting to their courage and conviction as regards their continuing the good work of Jesus; (3) that the impact of those early believers upon society was significant. The Church still exists, insisted Barclay (op. cit.), to make bad people good (and good people better!); people will always throng to a community where lives are changed. Luke’s vibrant narrative may appear idealistic and indeed, it does represent the ideal to which believers in Jesus are called to realize. Unfortunately, some of us tend to regard that ideal as unattainable and even impractical. Is it perhaps because we look too often solely to our own resources rather than to those that are made available to us through God and by grace? Our annual reacquaintance with the earliest members of our faith-community should, if Luke would have his way, rekindle the fire of faith and fervor within us (or under us, as the situation warrants!) such that we do not cower before the challenges that face the twenty-first century Church, but face them with determination. We can do so if we keep reminding ourselves that ours is not a singular effort but a collective one; nor is ours a merely human attempt to resolve this world’s ills for we are a Church that is Spirit-filled, Spirit-inspired and Spirit-driven to accomplish God’s good and saving plan for humankind.

Rev 1:9-11, 12-13, 17-19 By the time the Johannine literature (Gospel of John; Revelation; 1, 2, 3, John) made its appearance on the Christian scene, believers in Jesus found themselves in the throes of a fierce persecution. Instigated and carried forth by Emperor Domitian, this onslaught on the Church differed from that of Nero which was confined mainly to Rome. Domitian’s attack on Christians extended throughout the empire and untold numbers of the faithful suffered the wrath of the one who wished his subjects to worship him under the title, “My Lord and God.” Occasioned by the severe struggle being experienced by believers, Revelation, like other such literatures that were spawned by times of crisis (e.g. Daniel, Maccabees, Esther, etc.), met that struggle head-on with that unique genre of resistance literature that we call apocalyptic. Apocalyptic, which means unveiling, is that name given to an unusual literary offering which disguises but does not hide the truth in symbolic images, colors, numbers, visions and cryptic language. Usually set in the past, the subject about which the apocalyptic writer spoke was usually his/her present circumstance. From within that circumstance of persecution and crisis, John, the Seer, related his call to minister to his contemporaries in terms similar to the calling of the prophets. Caught up by God and told to put his visions into writing, John’s first sharing was that of a regal Jesus, dressed in the garb of the Old Testament priests (Exod 30:7) moving among seven golden lampstands. These represent the churches of Asia Minor and all in the Church who have taken to heart the words of Jesus of Nazareth: Just as “I am the light of the world” (John 8:12), so “You are the light of the world …. Let your light shine before others …” (Matt 5:14, 16). For its late first century readers who were attempting to let their light shine in a hostile world, Revelation offered both exhortation and admonition, encouraging believers to stand firm in their faith while warning against any compromise with the powers that be. Despite the threat of suffering and even martyrdom, the recipients of Revelation were assured that the promises of God would be fulfilled. Even when it seemed that evil would rear its ugly head in a manner and through persons who appeared insuperable, the underlying principle that informed all of Revelation, viz., that goodness would never be overcome by evil, remained intact and indomitable. To encourage their fidelity to Jesus as their only Lord and God, John the Seer shared with his readers his vision of the Son of Man and declared his message: “There is nothing to fear” (v. 17). Then we can almost hear the Seer as he continues to speak for the risen Christ saying, Emperors and empires will come and go and, in the end, death shall claim them all … but, “I am the First and the Last and the One who died but now lives forever.” With these assurances regarding the love and caring and invincibility of their true leader, John promised his readers that they could withstand and survive whatever came their way. Even if their battle with empire should end in their earthly demise, their Lord and God, Jesus, who holds the keys of death can release from death all who believe and remain faithful. This remains our hope; this is our Easter faith.

John 20:19-31 At the heart of the Johannine literature stands the fourth gospel and at the heart of the gospel stands the risen Christ, represented here as the giver of the Spirit and the One who mandates the Church’s mission of peace and forgiveness. But, do we truly believe this? asks Karl Rahner (The Great Church Year, Crossroads Pub. Co., New York, N.Y.: 1994). If we truly believe, then why are we lax, joyless and resigned? Why do we so stingily offer up only a little of ourselves as though it were too insecure for us to risk our whole life, all our strength and the last drop of our heart’s blood in Christ’s service? Is Christ, or is he not, risen from the dead? Having asked the tough questions, Rahner also offers some answers by reminding us that Jesus is the living One, victor over sin and death and, as such, is represented here by John. He did not rise and ascend to heaven until he had descended into the utter depths of sin, death and loss. He accepted to be mired in the ultimate lostness from where all viciousness springs and where all streams of tears have their origin, where the last source of all hatred and self-seeking abides … and there, in that ugly desolation of human depravity, he has won victory! He won, not by shoving it all away from himself but by losing himself and forcing his way into the innermost center. He seized this center, accepted it as his own and transformed it. And so, in his resurrection, Jesus has not gone from us; he has actually come to be present in it with us forever. This he does by means of his divine Spirit; in that Spirit, Jesus is present in our openness and in our impotence, when we open the door and when we close it. He climbs into every human heart, filling them with hunger for himself, for justice, love, truth and peace. He is with you, with me, in you, in me, in us. This, John celebrates in today’s gospel. From this celebration, we are to go forth in mission, despite fear (v. 19), despite doubt (vv. 25-27), despite not seeing (v. 29), and despite the ever lengthening interim until his return. Sharing his insights into realized eschatology, the Johannine author would have us be aware and fully attentive to resurrection grace, here and now, among us, guiding and goading us to mission. Jesus’ own mission, says Charles Cousar (Texts For Preaching, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1994) becomes the paradigm for our mission. His words of peace are not for us alone, but for every other person or group who hides behind closed doors dismayed and upset, who have not yet heard or find it hard to believe that death is not the end. His empowerment is our empowerment; the Spirit can and will speak and move in us if we put off the paralysis of indifference and give ourselves over to its power. If these words and all the words that John has recorded for the sake of our believing (vv. 30-31) remain only words on a page, then the Spirit’s power also remains sterile and untapped within us. What we are being called to today is a deliberate act of the will that will move beyond words and sentiment and even righteous emotion about so great a reality as resurrection in order to make those words come to life in us. Then, pulsing and breathing in us, these words will move us to be, as Jesus was, and as Jesus is, through us, a force for good that will transform a dying, desperate, needy world. Jesus lives and we live to make him and the power of his resurrection known.

Sample Homily for April 15, 2007 Second Sunday of Easter “Realistic Thomas” by Fr. James Smith

Doubting Thomas has became a by-word for unbelief. But let’s let Thomas speak for himself. “I could more accurately be called Realistic Thomas. All I did was what anyone else would do — what you would do: I asked for proof. My friends told me that the man we saw crucified had come back to life. Was I unreasonable to want some kind of evidence? Later Christians would use me to make up for their own lack of faith. They thought that their faith was better than mine because they believed without seeing. Nonsense! They would have nothing to believe if I hadn’t seen. “Someone had to have physical proof that Jesus was still alive. If not me, than someone else. I was born to do that, just as Judas was born to betray Jesus. Without Judas, there is no crucifixion, without me there is no proof of resurrection. I am not ashamed; I am proud of my actions — even if they were wrong. Because the blood of Jesus is now drying on my fingers — what he was, what he still is, lingers.” The reality of Christ’s body has always been hard to pin down. Even the church has been apparently ambivalent. For the first 12 centuries, the church thought of the people as the body of Christ. The Eucharist was his Mystical Body. But as the world grew squeamish about flesh, the church became the Mystical Body and the Eucharist became the real body of Christ. But to denigrate the physical body is like burning the house for the insurance: you have a fistful of money but nowhere to sleep tonight. Back to Thomas. His friends, the other disciples, told him that they had actually seen the Lord alive. Thomas wasn’t satisfied with explanation — he wanted experience. He knew that the mind can make up all kinds of possibilities, but the senses ground us in reality; the body reduces many possibilities down to one certainty. That is why Thomas had to feel that mechanical muscle of a heart for himself. You and I would love to have that same experience. Who would not want to put their hand in the side of God, hoping to find it warm, human? The body does not lie. It is not for nothing that we talk about voting with our feet or putting our money where our mouth is or walking the talk. It is one thing to hear read the names of soldiers killed in Viet Nam; but that is a nothing at all like tracing your fingers over their names engraved in the Monument. Back to Thomas. Demanding proof was entirely in character. He was a hands-on disciple. When Jesus was going to Jerusalem to die, his friends wanted to discuss other possibilities, but Thomas interrupted their theories with his practical: “Let’s go die with him.” And when Jesus told his friends to follow him, and they acted as if they owned a global positioning device, Thomas freely admitted: “We have no idea where you’re going, let alone how to get there. So, tell us plainly.” It is no surprise that this man demanded a reality check. But so does everyone have to have some reason to believe. Some people believe that Jesus rose from the dead because the Bible tells them so; or because the church tells them; or because their mother told them; some believe because it feels good; some because they hope to rise from the dead with Jesus. I believe that Jesus is alive because I don’t want a dead man running my life.

THIRD SUNDAY OF EASTER

April 22, 2007

The Struggle Inherent in Believing Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Acts 5:27-32, 40-41 Rev 5:11-14 John 21:1-19

Doesn’t it seem rather bittersweet that, even though we are in the midst of our annual celebration of Easter and all the joys that are ours in Jesus, the sacred texts call our attention to the suffering that is necessarily our lot as believers? In the first reading from Acts, Luke narrates the experience of Peter and company; forced to appear before the Sanhedrin and warned of the dire consequences that would befall them, the disciples were nevertheless undeterred. Emboldened by the Spirit and bursting with enthusiasm that arises in hearts still reeling with the surprise of the resurrection, they dared to testify to the Good News before their interrogators. In verses that unfortunately are omitted from today’s first reading, Luke tells of the flogging the disciples received for their efforts. Not only were they undaunted by that experience, they were actually strengthened by their sharing in the sufferings of Jesus; this being so, the disciples went forth to continue their work in earnest. A theme of glory, tempered by suffering, also pervades the second reading from the revelation mediated by John the Seer. Although this vision offers a glimpse of eternity wherein there is great rejoicing at the victory won by Jesus over sin and death, at the very center of the celebration is a slain Lamb. Suffering, again, is affirmed as the path that one will travel to glory; only after suffering and dying did Jesus Christ, our triumphant passover Lamb effect his own and our passover from death to life. Should we be surprised, then, that a similar itinerary is also ours? Even the gospel for today is tinged with a note of sorrow that seems unwelcome in this season. Despite his emphasis on the love and forgiveness of the risen Jesus, the fourth evangelist offers a somber reminder that Peter and all who would love and feed Jesus’ sheep will also know the struggle that is inherent in believing. If this notion of accomplishing God’s purposes by embracing suffering is disconcerting to contemporary believers, it was no less so for those of Jesus’ day. Nevertheless, this was an idea that was woven inextricably into the very fabric of the faith tradition they inherited from Israel. Recall the Isaian servant whose person and mission were set before us frequently during Lent and whose experience has now penetrated our Easter joy. This special servant, as Nicholas T. Wright (The Challenge of Jesus, Inter-Varsity Press, Downers Grove, Ill.: 1999) has explained, attested to the understanding that suffering was somehow held within the ongoing divine purpose, that in due time, present woe would yield to vindication and that the present suffering would somehow hasten the moment when Israel’s (humankind’s) tribulation would be redeemed, but, paradoxically, be part of the means by which that redemption would be effected. For all these reasons, the Cross, the shadow of which looms large at every celebration of salvation, however joyous, offers itself as the great linchpin of history; it was, as Wright has further noted, the moment when all evil and all pain came together in one place, in one person, there, in all its contradiction, the Cross can be understood as Jesus’ final great act of love. In the Cross are drawn to a passionate climax all the loving words and works of his ministry, viz., his touching of a leper, his tender mercies for the sick, the bereaved, the outcast, the poor, his tears at Lazarus’ death. In all these, we see the profoundly human as well as the God-filled Jesus; in him, meet death and life, suffering and glory, struggle and hope. Therefore, while we rejoice in Jesus’ rising, we are never far from his dying and these realities are necessarily joined in our own lives as well. We who have consented to commit ourselves to him, in faith and through our daily following have consented to claim as our own a crucified Savior. His suffering, his Cross is the surest and clearest window through which we may perceive the heart and character of God. Consequently, the more we learn about these two sides of our faith, i.e., the struggle and the believing, the suffering and the glory, the more we learn about the One in whose image we are created and recreated; the more we learn about our own vocation to be what Wright (op. cit.) calls “cross-bearing people,” the people in whose lives and through whose service God is made known. As representatives or images of God in the world, it is our redemptive task to bring the achievement of the Cross to bear on the world. To that end, our methods, our missiology, our message must be cross-shaped through and through. Of course, we rejoice in the glory of Easter, of new life and of salvation but we never forget or fail to acknowledge that all these blessings have come to us filtered through the prism of the Cross. Does this make our celebrating bittersweet? Perhaps, but even the Bread of the Word and the Bread of the Lord which we have gathered to share today must first be broken and poured out before they may be shared. Let us, therefore, be grateful to God, for we celebrate a broken Christ who makes us whole; we remember a poured out Christ who heals our wounds; we rejoice in a dying Christ who gives us life. This is both the privilege and the paradox the bitterness and the blessedness of our believing.

Acts 5:27-32, 40-41 Not only did the author of Luke-Acts offer readers an account of Jesus’ ministry and the continuation of that ministry by his followers, the ancient writer also offered his readers a literary forum within which important questions could be asked and answered by believers of the growing Jesus-movement. These questions pertained to Christianity’s rootedness in Jesus, its concern for Gentile as well as Jewish believers, its position as regards the Roman empire, its ability to adapt to changing needs and circumstances, its concern for the orthodoxy of its beliefs and the authenticity of its values and lifestyle. As they considered these questions and determined their answers to the same, so also were the followers of Jesus able to arrive at a surer sense of Christian self-definition. Part of that self-definition would require that Christianity would eventually distinguish itself from its Jewish origins. Not an effortless evolution, the development of the Jesus- movement was fraught with conflict as is reflected in this excerpted text from Acts. In its early decades, Christianity continued to be regarded as a Jewish sect and in order to remain on good terms with the Empire that tolerated Judaism and granted it the status of a licit religion, the Jewish authorities were quick to quash any problem that could threaten that status. One of those problems was the community of believers in Jesus. As Beverly Gaventa (Texts For Preaching, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1994) has explained, the ministry of Peter and the other disciples had begun to arouse considerable public interest and, with it, the hostility of the authorities. Already, there had been trouble (Acts 4:1-12) but the disciples had pressed on, preaching and healing in Jesus’ name. Arrested again (5:12-18), they were delivered from their dungeon by divine intervention (5:19-21) and went on with their work much to the chagrin of the high priest and Sanhedrin. Today’s narrative picks up the experience of Peter and company at the point where they were being formally charged with insubordination and slander (vv. 27-28). But rather than offer testimony at their trial that might aid in their release, the disciples used the opportunity to preach the good news. After testifying to Jesus as no longer dead but risen by the power of the God of Israel, Peter and the apostles bore further witness to Jesus as “the ruler and savior” whom God has sent “to bring repentance to Israel and forgiveness of sins.” This same Lord was present in the apostles in the person of the Holy Spirit who empowered them to continue Jesus’ work. This same Lord remains present to us through the Holy Spirit. Today, Luke reminds us yet again to tap into this ever renewable and renewing resource so that the boldness and daring that characterized the first disciples continue to be manifested in us. Their work has become ours to continue; the good news is now our privilege to preach, with our lips, with our lives.

Rev 5:11-14 During the last two decades of the first Christian century, a proliferation of literary works were produced in order to address the changing circumstances of the Jesus movement. Most of these, as L. Michael White (From Jesus to Christianity, Harper Collins Pub., San Francisco, Calif.: 2004) has pointed out, reflect an emerging Christian identity, a gradual separation from Judaism and a sense of accommodation to Roman culture. While some Christian groups called their adherents to “honor the emperor” (1 Pet 2:17), others found this move toward accommodation with Rome to be abhorrent and used the vehicle of apocalyptic literature to voice their convictions concerning the empire. Throughout Revelation, the promise that Rome would one day be defeated is repeated in a variety of ways, through graphic symbols, epic battles and weird depictions of dying beasts. Through it all, believers in Jesus are exhorted to remain faithful (see letters to seven churches) so that, in the end, which is really the beginning, they may be blessed with the realization of the Seer’s visions of heaven. One of those visions is shared in today’s second reading; at the center of the vision is the Lamb who was slain. This Lamb, as Raymond E. Brown (An Introduction to the New Testament, Doubleday, New York, N.Y.: 1997) has pointed out, is elsewhere identified as the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David who has conquered. Clearly, says Brown, the paradoxical symbolism of a slain but conquering Lamb outstrips descriptive logic. The hymn being sung to honor the Lamb has a refrain about being “worthy” and is similar to the hymn sung to God in Rev 4:8-11. Thus, God and the Lamb are represented as on the same plane, with one being hailed as Creator and the other as Redeemer. The word redeemer, as Wes Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther (Unveiling Empire, Reading Revelation Then and Now, Orbis Books, Maryknoll, N.Y.: 2002) have pointed out is an economic term meaning to cause the release or freedom of someone by a means which proves costly to the one effecting the release. Of course, the cost to the Lamb was his very life which proved to be only temporary (Rev 1:18). Having died for our redemption, the Lamb now lives and, as John’s vision attests, is enthroned with God the Creator in glory forever. Surely, this scene made a significant statement for the late first century believers in Jesus. Even though another ruler sat upon a throne, viz., Domitian, and demanded the acclaim of his subjects. John’s vision testifies to the temporal and temporary nature of the empire and its emperors while affirming the everlasting reign of God and Jesus Christ. This very scene, as Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther (op. cit.) have insisted, is the key to the entire direction of Revelation. Those, throughout the ages, who have read Revelation as a violently vindictive text have ignored the central feature that holds the entire narrative together. It is God, the Creator, King, Warrior, Judge and Lamb who was slaughtered for his nonviolent witness who are due honor in place of emperors and lesser deities. Those who would honor God and the Lamb and who would take their places around their thrones at the eternal liturgy must accept the peaceable, nonviolent way of the Lamb as being the way of God. Acceptance of this way of peace will invariably bring suffering as it did for Jesus. Today, the Seer’s words and his vision challenge our willingness to continue making Jesus’ way our own.

John 21:1-19 In this poignant Johannine narrative of one of the appearances of the risen Jesus to his own, the experience of Peter stands out and invites our consideration. After fishing all night on the Sea of Tiberias (or Galilee) and having no catch to show for their efforts, Peter and the others must have been tired. But this did not deter Peter from jumping into the sea upon recognizing Jesus or from hauling in the great catch Jesus had provided. Nor did Peter shrink from Jesus’ questions about his love for him and his willingness to feed Jesus’ sheep. Even though he was hurt by the reminder of his triple denial of Jesus, Peter willingly submitted to the “rehabilitation” Jesus offered him by urging him to restate his loyalty, not once or twice but three times. As Stanley B. Marrow (The Gospel of John, Paulist Press, New York, N.Y.: 1995) has noted, Peter’s grief is testimony to his acknowledgment of his sin as well as his repentance; this experience invites us to keep in mind what Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, once said of sinners, “Many sins are committed by reason of pride but not at all proudly; some are committed from ignorance, others from weakness, and many with sighs and tears.” Like Peter, Augustine knew whereof he spoke. Up to this point in today’s gospel, Peter, the repentant and humbled sinner, appears to be his own person and worthy of the appellation Jesus had given him … Rock. He appears strong of will and of purpose; he was, after all, the leader who would serve in Jesus’ stead. But then, an ominous word from Jesus suddenly makes what was an otherwise joyous occasion turn very somber. There would, Jesus announced quite solemnly, come a time when Peter would no longer be his own person, strong of will and of purpose, fastening his own belt, going about as he pleased. Instead, someone else would tie Peter fast and carry him off against his will. As the fourth evangelist has noted, these surprising words about Peter were indicative of the sort of death that awaited him. Of course, by the time the fourth gospel appeared near the end of the first Christian century, Peter had been gone for a few decades and the manner of his dying was well known to John’s readers. They knew that Peter had paid the ultimate price; the struggle inherent in his believing had cost him his very life. According to a long-held but unverifiable tradition, Peter, like Jesus, was crucified but, feeling himself unworthy to bear such a striking similarity to his Lord, Peter requested to be hung upside down on his cross. Most of us will probably not die as dramatically as did Jesus or Peter or any of the others who were martyred for their faith. Nevertheless, most of us shall share in the experience of losing our independence and of having to surrender to a will other than our own. Through the natural process of aging, even the strongest and most purposeful among us will be required eventually to submit ourselves to the care of others. For some of us, aging may also bring on the “long good-bye” that is Alzheimer’s when even the faculties that helped to define us as a person slip away. Whatever the future may hold, the example of Peter and, of course, Jesus will stand us in good stead. Both lived by a faith strong enough to endure not only the struggle inherent in believing but also the surrender to God that will eventually and inevitably cost us not less than everything. Sample Homily for April 22, 2007 Third Sunday of Easter “No Ordinary Fishing Trip” by Fr. James Smith

We are so familiar with this fishing expedition that it feels like a quaint little story about Jesus making a big catch for his friends. That much is true — but it leaves out everything that happened before. It is a story about ordinary fishermen in an ordinary village in ancient Palestine They have ordinary wives and ordinary children and ordinary lives. They are on the sea most of the time. Their faces are weather-beaten, their hands cut by net barbs and hardened by sea salt. It is a hard life of work, but it is a good life: Honest, healthy, simple — and they are content. Then, all of a sudden, a charismatic preacher took the region by storm. He made everyone acutely aware of the evil in their lives. They had grown so accustomed to the way they compromised their covenant with God that they thought everything was just fine. But the Baptist warned them that God was unhappy — and about to scuttle their comfortable boat. Hundreds of people were frightened into repentance. But not our intrepid fishermen. They knew they were not perfect, but they would not be stampeded into salvation by rigid laws. Fishermen are free. But just when they had escaped the Baptist, along came an even more exciting preacher with a new angle on God. It sounded much more appealing, but there were fish to catch. It was not until Jesus approached them personally that they were lost. His message was powerful, but his personality was overpowering All he had to say was “follow me” and they dropped nets and family to chase God-knows-where after this amazing man. They had a glorious time romping over the hillsides like Robin Hood’s band. But it all fell apart as quickly as it had come together. The powers-that-be grew tired of this popular road show and so they shut it down. They killed the leader of the band, and the backup players drifted apart, as everyone knew they would. They went back to their old jobs where they could; and suffered the scorn of their wives. They paid a serious price for getting in over their heads. And now here they are, back in the boat, working all night for nothing. But that “nothing” was still profitable. Because “boat talk” is the kind that lingers: it floats over the water, it is plain, honest, intimate. Boat talk is like pillow-talk or doing-the-dishes talk or going-for-a-walk talk. Close conversation solidifies bonds, intensifies the memory. They said to each other: “What a grand time we had. We never would have dreamed we had that energy and daring inside us …. It was the best thing that ever happened to us .... It was well worth the price.” Their happy reverie was disrupted by a voice from the shore: “Hey kids, how’s the fishing?” They bristled: Who dares to call hardened fishermen ‘children’? And make fun of our fishing failure? But the voice sounded vaguely familiar. It couldn’t be … Could it possibly be? It is, by Yahweh, it absolutely is their old master. John knew right away — the one who loves most knows most. Peter jumped into the sea as quickly as he would have dashed into a fire for his friend. But the other fishermen wondered “Do we really want to go through this again? It was wonderful, yes, but such a huge price!” You and I are still in that same boat with them, wondering if fishing with Jesus is really worth it. FOURTH SUNDAY OF EASTER

April 29, 2007

Our Vision to Realize Patricia Datchuck Sánchez

Acts 13:14, 43-52 Rev 7:9, 14-17 John 10:27-30

In his latest book entitled Everyday Greatness (Rutledge Hill Press, Nashville, Tenn.: 2006), author Stephen R. Covey has suggested that all things are created twice. All things. Vision is the first creation. For a house, vision takes the form of a blueprint. For a life, it’s called a mission. For a day, it’s called a goal and a plan. For a parent, it’s called a belief in the unseen potential of a child. For all, it’s the mental or spiritual creation which always precedes the physical or second creation. Vision not only helps us to see present opportunities where others might not see them, but it also points us toward the future and inspires us to ask, Who do I want to be five years from now? Ten years? Where do I want to be? What do I want to be doing? With whom and for whom do I want to be doing it? Why? Vision helps us to see the possibilities of tomorrow within the realities of today and motivates us to do what needs to be done to realize those possibilities. If we who are the community of believers in Jesus were to take Covey’s words and ideas and questions to heart, we could, first and foremost, be prompted to determine and identify our vision as Church. That vision is given eloquent expression in each of the New Testament texts chosen for our inspiration and edification today. In the first reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Luke allows us to look in upon the unfolding mission of Paul and Barnabas. Avid travelers, desirous to make Jesus known to all, they made their way from city to city, attempting in each place and within the hearts of all who would listen to plant the seeds of faith and to preach the good word of salvation. In all they said, in all they did, the vision that was their impetus was first voiced by the prophet Isaiah (49:6), then by Simeon (Luke 2:30-32), then by John the Baptizer (Luke 3:6): “I have made you a light to the nations, a means of salvation to the ends of the earth.” This universal vision was the first creation, reflective of the divine universal concern for all of humankind. This vision came to live among us in the person and through the mission of Jesus who reached out to embrace all, whether far or near, regardless of race, gender, ethnicity and worthiness or lack thereof. As Church, we are still in the process of enabling this vision to be realized. Though still far from being fully accomplished, this vision must continue to fuel our efforts. As we revisit this vision, so also must we acknowledge those times when, through prejudice, bias, intolerance, disrespect, ignorance, or any other form of parochialism and/or animosity we have clouded or dimmed or otherwise prevented this vision from being created among us. That this vision has suffered through the centuries is readily attested in our history as Church. That God remains patient and merciful is evidenced in the fact that we are still here, still being afforded the grace of beginning anew to be instruments of peace and salvation rather than hatred, violence and war … still being afforded the opportunity to open our hearts, our minds, our lives and whatever resources may be needed so as to recognize, accept and acknowledge our relatedness to and responsibility for all others in God and in Christ. When this responsibility seems too daunting, too large and impossible to achieve, we would do well to remember the sage advice of Mother Teresa of Calcutta who said, “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.” If we apply this same advice as regards the universal concerns that should characterize our vision as believers, then we are thereby prompted to reach out, one person at a time, until, through our individual and collective efforts, all are touched, all are welcomed, all are loved, all are served, all are saved. This universal salvific vision is also echoed in today’s second reading wherein John the Seer affirms that those for whom the Lamb was slain and whom the Lamb intends to shepherd are innumerable. These, who are our divinely intended brothers and sisters come from every nation and race, every people and tongue. Though the Seer’s vision was a heavenly one, it is the mission of the Church to reflect and enact that vision here and now. To aid us in this regard, the Johannine evangelist reminds us of two things in today’s gospel. First, we are assured that the loving voice of Jesus will never cease to speak to us. Always calling us by name, always lending direction and support, always assuring us that we are cherished, all we need do is listen and follow our Shepherd’s loving lead. In our following we shall be joined by all the Shepherd’s other beloved sheep. These too are known by name and loved by our Shepherd Jesus; therefore, they are ours to cherish as well. Second, while we are certainly free to listen and to follow, or not to listen and to choose another path, we are also assured that nothing and no one could ever snatch us from Jesus hand or from God’s. Our position, our place in God’s universal saving plan is secure; from that place of security therefore, let us work together to allow God’s vision to come to life in us and, through us, in our world. Acts 13:14, 43-52 In one of his addresses, the late pope John Paul II insisted that “the Church must preserve her identity as a family, united in the diversity of her members. She must be the leaven which helps society to react as it did to the early Christians: ‘See how they love one another’ …. This picture of the Church is certainly not idealized unrealistically but matured by trial and suffering … to realize this picture, we call on everyone to overcome unlawful and dangerous differences. We must recognize each other as brothers in the love of Christ that unites us.” John Paul’s vision of what the Church should be was not unlike that of Paul and Barnabas who, as Luke tells us in today’s first reading, worked diligently to bring that vision to life. In keeping with their initial, customary missiology (see Acts 9:20; 14:1; 17:1), Paul and Barnabas began their efforts in Antioch in Pisidia (in the province of Galatia) by addressing the Jews who had gathered at their local synagogue for prayer. In verses that are omitted from this pericope, Luke has narrated the address of Paul which is thought by many to be a largely Lucan composition. Therein, beginning with the exodus and concluding with the death, resurrection, and appearances of the risen Jesus to his own, the ancient writer proclaimed the good news of salvation. This address represents the first of several such attempts (see also 24:10-21; 26:2-23) to convince the Jews that the Christian church is the divinely intended and logical development of Judaism. Well received by those gathered that day, the address of Paul earned for him and Barnabas an invitation to return again on the next Sabbath. Although he tells us that “almost the entire city gathered to hear the word of God” (v. 44), some scholars think this to be a bit of Lucan exaggeration, borne of zeal for the gospel and the desire that it be preached to all people and to the ends of the earth. Regardless of the number of people who came to hear the word of God as preached by the Christian missionaries, it is clear that reactions to them were mixed. Whereas some were receptive and welcomed the good news, others, who were not convinced of the orthodoxy of their message, “countered with violent abuse whatever Paul said” (v. 45). In response, Paul explained this course of events as the fulfillment of prophecy (v. 47 = Isa 49:6) and as God’s foreordained plan evolving as intended. He further insisted that human obstruction did not divert their course or necessitate a different missiology. Rather than regard the inclusion of the Gentiles in the church’s efforts at evangelization as a Plan B when Plan A (the mission to Israel) had failed, Luke understood that the Church’s ministry was to reflect and implement the universal concerns of God from the outset. To that end, he portrays Paul and Barnabas as undeterred by the opposition they encountered. Next stop: Iconium. As we are reacquainted each Easter season with our ancestors in the faith, we should realize that Luke has intended that the telling and retelling of their efforts for the sake of the gospel should enflame each of us with similar zeal and inspire us to a similar largesse of heart as regards all others for whom Jesus died and whom God wishes also to be saved.

Rev 7:9, 14-17 So many images have been drawn together in this text to form a Christological collage that cannot help but compel our appreciation. Four distinct yet related images are evoked by the one word, Lamb. First, the reference to washing in the blood of the Lamb identifies the glorious, risen Jesus as the ultimate passover lamb (Exod 12:1-11) by whose blood sinners are delivered from death. John the Baptizer identified Jesus as such in the fourth gospel (1:29, 35). Also referenced indirectly here is the Suffering Servant who, like a lamb, was led innocently to the slaughter (Isa 53). The fact that John’s vision centers on a Lamb enthroned, as God is also enthroned in heaven, identifies Jesus as one with God and underscores the divinity of the Savior-Lamb. A fourth image portrays the Lamb as a Shepherd, who leads the universal community of the saved to springs of life- giving water, thus evoking Psalm 23 and John 4:4-14, as well as the blessings of Christian baptism. In addition to the multi-faceted and multi-tasking Lamb, the image of the uncountable crowd from every nation and race people and tongue, all dressed in the white robes of victory and waving the palms of peace serves to underscore the universal dimensions of the Lamb’s salvific efforts. Because of the Lamb, these whom the Seer calls “survivors of the great period of trial” have not been conquered by the persecution enforced by Domitian. On the contrary, they now live forever with the Lamb and with God. Subject no more to the struggles imposed by empire, they shall no longer know hunger or thirst or the inclemencies of climate. Comforted by God, there shall be no reason for tears. This joyous and touching image of God’s tender parental caring may seem incongruous amid the scenes of violence and vengeance so frequent in Revelation. Yet, and as Wes Howard-Brook and Anthony Gwyther (Unveiling Empire, Reading Revelation Then and Now, Orbis Books, Mary knoll, N.Y.: 2002) have pointed out, rather than be out of place, this image recognizes that the people’s experience of God depends on how they live in the midst of empire. Those who refuse to repent will experience the just judgment of God (16:1, 5-11); those who acknowledge the authority of the One who is holy and true and who obey (6:10) will experience God and the Lamb’s community of intimacy and compassion. As Howard-Brook and Gwyther (op. cit.) have also noted, these victorious survivors constitute the New Israel. What had, at first, been an ethnically pure tribal confederation from out of Egypt and within the Promised Land, is revealed in John’s vision as a multicultural, multinational, multilingual multitude of the saved. Whereas salvation was thought to be provided exclusively by the emperor, as a result of Pax Romana, this great multitude professes that salvation comes from our God who is seated on the throne and from the Lamb (7:10). Their profession of faith and their total reliance on God continue to challenge believers of the twenty-first century to do the same, i.e., to recognize the presence of empire in our midst and to refuse to be seduced. We are to be in the world but not of it; we are to embrace and serve the needs of the world but not its false and fleeting values. We are not Caesar’s but Christ’s, and our peace is not one imposed by empire but one that has been won for us through the words and works of our loving Brother, Shepherd, Lamb and Lord.

John 10:27-30 Location! Location! Location! Considered a sound principle for operating a successful business venture, location is also important as regards an accurate understanding of biblical texts. When readers appreciate the location or the context within which the Johannine Jesus made these statements, their significance is more readily perceived. In verses that precede today’s gospel, the evangelist tells readers that Jesus was walking in the temple area, on the Portico of Solomon, while all of Jerusalem was celebrating the feast of the Dedication. Known also as Hanukkah, the eight-day festival of lights held each December, this feast celebrated the Maccabean rededication of the altar and reconsecration of the temple ca. 164 BCE after these were desecrated by Antiochus Epiphanes IV. It was a time for remembering and rejoicing in the victory of the few whose faith and desire to retain their Jewish heritage enabled them to battle powers greater than themselves and to emerge from that battle victorious. Because of the nature of this feast and the memories it celebrated, some scholars suggest that it may have charged the atmosphere with an air of messianic expectation. Perhaps some of Jesus’ contemporaries were hoping that he might follow the lead of the Maccabees and rout the oppressing enemy, who at this juncture in their history was the empire of Rome. These hopes may have prompted their question to Jesus: “How long are you going to keep us in suspense?” (John 10:24). This request prompted Jesus’ response, i.e., today’s gospel. Jesus’ reply, as Charles Cousar (Texts For Preaching, Westminster John Knox Press, Louisville, Ky.: 1994) has pointed out, reminds us that an understanding of who he is cannot be simply a matter of deciding whether he measures up to a preconceived idea as to how a messianic figure ought to act. Jesus eludes all prior categories and totally redefines even those cherished titles from Israel’s faith tradition. He is Messiah yes, but he will exercise his authority as Shepherd. He knows his own; his own hear his voice and choose to follow him. Another issue arises from the question posed to Jesus in John 10:24. Jesus’ questioners seem to think that their decision as to his messiahship could be arrived at by merely processing information. If Jesus would be forthcoming with the data, they could arrive at a reasoned conclusion. But Jesus’ response (also not included in today’s gospel) says otherwise: “I told you and you do not believe … because you are not among my sheep” (10:25-26). Belief in Jesus is based on knowledge of Jesus and, as Cousar (op. cit.) has further explained, knowledge of the Messiah involves reorientation, a change of location from one community and way of life to another, a radical conversion. Some refuse these challenges, as is reflected in the gospel and as continues to be reflected in our world. Others opt to reorient their lives toward Jesus, to leave one fold for another, to make him the reason for their radical conversion. These are the sheep who hear his voice, who follow him, who receive eternal life, who shall not perish, who will not be snatched from his hand. Ultimately the Shepherd will give his life to preserve the sheep and to save their lives. As our Good Shepherd’s commitment to us is proclaimed once again in our hearing, so also is the opportunity for us to recommit ourselves to him. Commitment to Jesus means commitment to God, for as the Johannine Jesus assures us, “the Father and I are one.”

Sample Homily for April 29, 2007 Fourth Sunday of Easter “Life in Time and Eternity” by Fr. James Smith

Jesus gives us eternal life, but we can’t get our minds around eternity, which we imagine as time going in a circle without beginning or end. Actually, time itself a bigger mystery than eternity. If you ask someone what time is, they start to answer, then stumble until they admit, along with St. Augustine: “I knew what time was until you asked me to explain it.” We have to get some control over the thing that measures our whole life, so we divide it into three manageable sections of past, present and future. But that is just in our minds. There is no such thing as the past. We imagine it as a dump where everything goes to rest, like the trash bin in a computer. But where is this place? How are past things stored? What are they made of? No, the past exists only in our brain cells. But there, it can have a powerful influence on our present. Past decisions set us up for present choices. Habitual choices form our character. Memory can bring past events into the present. But, although memory preserves the past, it’s all in our mind. Only the present is real. The future looms large in our lives. Today is largely structured by the notes on our calendar — which were future appointments when we jotted them down, And we are already plotting tomorrow’s and next month’s activities. But the future is no more real than the past; only the present is real. But even that is suspect. What, in fact, is the present? The present is an imaginary point where the past and the future happen to meet. While the past quietly slips away, the future slides in to replace it. There simply is no empty space, no interval of time, no nano-second between past and future. Time is all one piece of cloth; the present is all in our minds. And yet, we really experience the present time. In fact, that is the only time we can actually experience. But if time is a continuously unrolling film, how can we feel any separate time? When we are in the throes of despair, we beg time to move swiftly, but it ignores us. When we are ecstatically happy, we cry along, with Faust: “Stop, thou art so fair!” But time is not uninterested in our moods. Then how do we experience the present which does not actually exist? We step out of time, we remove ourselves from the constant movement of the cosmos. Like this: if we stand on a bridge and watch a leaf float by, the leaf doesn’t know it is moving because it is moving along with the water, inseparable from it, part of a single event. But we know that the leaf is moving from one side of the bridge to the other because we are separate from both the leaf and the water. We are objective observers standing still as the leaf moves along from its past to its future. That is how we experience the present. We step out of the flow of time in order to watch it. That is called eternity. From which we see that time is simply the unfolding of eternity into space. Eternity is not so mysterious, it is not some religious symbol for time outside of time, it is not what happens when time runs out. Eternity is what time looks like from God’s point of view. And we can enjoy it anytime we see things as God sees them. Eternity is always going on, along with eternal life. So, don’t waste your time — or your life.