Easter 2008

Fr. Mychal Judge O.S.F.[1]
B.5/11, 1933 – D. 9/11, 2001

He Rolled the Stone away for Us
(One Nifty Word: Alleluia)

To the churched and unchurched[2]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[3]

March 23, 2008: Easter Sunday
Acts 10: 34, 37-43 Colossians 3:1-4 Mark 16:1-6

First reading from Acts

Peter proceeded to speak and said: “You know what has happened all over Judea, beginning in Galilee after the baptism that John preached, how God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Spirit and power. He went about doing good and healing all those oppressed by the devil, for God was with him. We are witnesses of all that he did both in the country of the Jews and in Jerusalem. They put him to death by hanging him on a tree. This man God raised on the third day and granted that he be visible, not to all the people, but to us, the witnesses chosen by God in advance, who ate and drank with him after he rose from the dead. He commissioned us to preach to the people and testify that he is the one appointed by God as judge of the living and the dead. To him all the prophets bear witness, that everyone who believes in him will receive forgiveness of sins through his name.”

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Mark
Glory to you, Lord.

After the Sabbath day was over, Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome brought spices to go and anoint the body of Jesus. Very early on Sunday morning, at sunrise, they went to the tomb. On the way, they said to one another, “Who will roll the stone away from the entrance to the tomb?” (It was a very large stone.) Then they looked up and saw that the stone had already been rolled back. So they entered the tomb, where they saw a young man sitting at the right, wearing a white robe, and they were filled with alarm. “Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “I know you are looking for Jesus of Nazareth, who was nailed to the cross. He is not here! He has been raised! Behold the place where they laid him.” (Mark 16: 1-6)

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Introduction
The huge stone rolled away

On Good Friday, Joseph of Arimathea placed the dead body of Jesus in his own tomb newly hewn from rock, and then rolled a very huge stone across the entrance and went away. (Mt 27: 58-61) Very early on Sunday morning, Mary Magdalene and Mary the mother of James and Salome were on their way to the tomb with spices to anoint the body of Jesus. On their way they asked one another, “Who will roll away for us the huge stone from the entrance to the tomb?” When they arrived, to their great surprise they saw that the stone had already been rolled away. (Mk 16: 3-4)

Who rolled it away?

Who rolled the stone away? Matthew writes there was a great earthquake, and an angel of the Lord dressed in a robe white as snow came down from heaven, rolled it away, sat on it and announced to the women, “He is not here; he has been raised, just as he said.” (Mt 28:6) Mark writes that a young man dressed in a white robe told the women on entering the tomb that Jesus of Nazareth had been raised from the dead. (Mk 16: 5-6) Luke writes that two men in dazzling garments appeared to the women who were surprised to see the stone rolled back. The two announced to the women, “He is not here. He has been raised.” (Lk 24: 6) Whoever it was who rolled the stone back, the message is simple: the stone was so huge it took a mighty angel from above or at least one or two hefty men from below to roll it away.

God murdered by an “act of God”& an act of man

The German philosopher Friedrich Nietsche is famous for his expression “God is dead.“ (Nietzsche -- The Madman, section 125) What or who kills God for us? Sometimes it is “an act of God” (i.e., an act of nature) -- like the tsunami of December 26, 2004, which ruthlessly swept away 140,000 people in southeastern Asia. That horrendous act of nature murdered God for many people, laid Him in a tomb and rolled a huge stone at the entrance.

Sometimes it is an act of man that murders God. Nietzsche, who put his expression "God is Dead" into the mouth of a madman, writes,

Have you ever heard of the madman who on a bright morning lighted a lantern and ran to the market place calling out unceasingly: "I seek God! I seek God!" As there were many people standing about who did not believe in God, he caused a great deal of amusement. “Is your God lost,” asked one. ”Has he strayed away like a child,” asked another. “Has He hidden Himself? Is He afraid of us? Has he taken a sea voyage? Has he emigrated?”

So did the people mock him. Then the madman jumped into their midst, transfixed them with his glances and said, "Where is God gone? I will tell you! We have killed him, you and I! We are all his murderers! What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has yet known has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to clean ourselves?”

God murdered in the Holocaust & 9/11

The twentieth century proved the madman wasn’t so mad after all; man does, indeed, murder God. Elie Weisel (the most famous surivor of the Holocaust) writes of the Holocaust -- that horrendous act of man -- in a little volume entitled Night.

Never shall I forget that first night in camp [Auschwitz] which turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little faces of children whose bodies I saw turned into wreathes of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul, and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget, even if I am condemned to live as long as God.

For many other Jews God died in the concentration camps of Auschwitz, Buchenwald and Dachau. The Holocaust, in fact, was such a horrendous act of man that it gave rise in the middle of the twentieth century to a group called The Death-of-God Theologians.

Marina Fontana, whose husband David was one of the 343 firefighters who died on 9\11, tells how that horrendous act of Usama bin Laden murdered her God:

I cannot bring myself to speak to God anymore because I feel so abandoned. I guess deep down inside I know that He still exists, and that I have to forgive Him and move on. But I am not ready to do that yet.

God murdered in the churches

After Nietsche’s madman’s episode in the marketplace, he made his way into different churches on the same day, and there he intoned a Requiem upon churches as “tombs and sepulchers of God." Sometimes it is nature and sometimes it is man who murders God. Sometimes it is the very church herself who murders God. In the Inquisition she not only murdered heretics like Giordano Bruno[4] but with them she also murdered very God Himself. The church murders God much less spectacularly but still quite effectively with her picky pedantries, hohum homilies and lifeless liturgies in the Sunday assembly.

God murdered for Jung

For example, Karl Jung, the father of modern psychology, describes the day of his First Holy Communion. He waited for it with eager anticipation. It finally came. Behind the altar stood his father, the minister, in his familiar robes. He read off the prayers from a book. He ate a piece of the bread and sipped the wine, then passed the cup on to the others, who looked stiff, solemn, and it seemed to him, uninterested. He waited in suspense for something out of the ordinary to happen but it did not happen. He saw no sadness and no joy on anyone’s face. When his turn came, he ate the bread which tasted flat, and sipped the wine which tasted sour. After the final prayer all pealed out of the church, neither depressed nor illumined with joy, but with faces that said, "Well, that's that." In the course of the following days, it dawned on Jung that the church had killed God for him on the very day of his first Holy Communion. He found himself saying, "That is not religion. That is the absence of God. I must never go back there again.” (Memories, Dreams, Reflections)

On the lofty mount where Jesus was transfigured before his apostles, Peter exclaimed to Jesus, “Oh, how good it is for us to be here! Let’s build three shelters here, one for you and one for Moses and one for Elijah.” (Mt 17:4) The church, too, which assembles us weekly on the lofty heights of Mt. Tabor, should have us exclaiming, “Oh how good it is for us to be here. This is the presence of God. We must come back here again and again.”

A robin before the tomb

Sometimes it is an act of nature like a tsunami that kills God, lays Him in a tomb and rolls a huge stone at its entrance. On the other hand, sometimes it is an act of nature which rolls the stone away for us and brings God back to life.

When winter in northern climes has turned into a tomb for us (as it, indeed, did this past winter of 2007-08) we find ourselves crying out in early March, “Who shall roll the huge stone away for us?” Then suddenly one day a solitary robin appears and hoists her tiny wings against the heavy stone before the tomb of winter holding spring captive. She does not know (or pretends not to know) there is one more blizzard waiting in the wings. At the end of the day, however, the lengthening light, the mystical smell of spring in the air, the biological clock within us and the reappearance of the robin assure our human spirit that the back of winter has been broken. The robin is finally triumphant; her tiny hoisted wings roll the heavy stone away, and spring springs forth in all its glory. Heaven and earth are flooded with hints, hunches and hopes that God, indeed, will roll away the stone before our tombs.

An angel robed in brown before the tomb

Sometimes it is man who kills God, lays Him in a tomb and rolls a huge stone at the entrance. On the other hand, sometimes it is man who rolls the stone away from the tomb of God and brings Him back to life. By the power of his magnanimous living and magnificent dying Fr. Mychal Judge, a Franciscan priest, rolled away a huge stone before the tomb of God in New York City and raised God up for a whole sea of weary New Yorkers.

On the apocalyptic morning of September 11, 2001, Fr. Mychal (one of four chaplains for the New York City Fire Depart.) rushed to ground zero where he died in the line of duty. Almost immediately, legend (inspired by his legendary life) sprung up concerning his death. He had taken off his helmet to give the last rites to a dying fireman when suddenly a mass of debris came crushing down upon him. He died there on the spot, and his body was carried off to a nearby church where it was laid upon an altar.

New Yorkers knew the Franciscan friar. They knew he was a recovering alcoholic who comforted alcoholics, assuring them they were not evil people. They heard him tell alcoholics, “Look you’re not a bad person. You have a disease that makes you think you’re bad, and that’s going to `f…’ you up.” (At times he had no compunction in using forceful language when the occasion called for it.)

New Yorkers knew also he was a gay man by orientation. He opened the doors of the well-known Church of St. Francis of Assisi on 31st Street in Upper Manhattan to Dignity -- an organization for gay Catholics. They saw him in his brown Franciscan robe march in the first gay-inclusive St. Patrick’s Day parade. No wonder he was controversial in his own house -- the church. No wonder a Monsignor in the New York chancery frequently had to admonish him for this or that meticulous churchly thing.

But New Yorkers knew (if his church at times did not know) much more than that about Fr. Mychal. They knew he had an encyclopedic memory for people’s names, birthdays and passions. They knew he was a friend of everyone from the homeless to Mayor Giuliani who at his funeral declared that Mychal was a saint. They knew that he was a true New Yorker, born and raised in the city, but they knew also that he lived on an entirely different plane of priorities from most New Yorkers. He was non-acquisitive. He was completely unselfish and utterly uncomplaining.

Behold how Fr. Mychal -- a hefty angel dressed in a brown robe -- rolled away a humongous stone of doubt, unbelief, anger and lackluster religion for a whole sea of scorched and prostrated New Yorkers! On the day of his funeral, September 15, 2001, 3000 people flocked to participate in the service. The funeral Mass itself took place in St. Francis of Assisi Church in midtown Manhattan, and was presided over by Cardinal Edward Egan and attended by former President Bill Clinton, New York Senator Hillary Clinton and daughter Chelsea.
The words of the homily that day preached by Fr. Michael Duffy (also O.S.F.) went forth to the whole world by three TV networks. And when a memorial service was held one month later for the fallen angel, an endless flow of priests, nuns, lawyers, cops, firefighters, homeless people, rock-and-rollers, alcoholics and recovering alcoholics, gays and straights, local politicians and middle age couples from the suburbs streamed into Good Shepherd Chapel on Ninth Ave, an Anglican church, to do a memorial service for a Roman Catholic priest. Yes, indeed, though it was a man (Usama bin Laden) who murdered God for us, it is also a man (Mychal Judge) who brought God back to life! Yes, indeed, though it is the church that sometimes murders God for us, sometimes it is also a man representing the very best of that church who brings God back to life.

Conclusion
One nifty word: Alleluia!

There are no nifty words for Easter. There are only nifty robins which roll away the stone and call forth spring from the tomb of winter. And there are only nifty churches which roll away the stone before the sepulcher of God and bring Him back to life with life-giving Liturgy and life-giving Word. And there are only nifty people like Father Mychal who represent the very best of their church; they roll away the stone for us weary wayfarers and assure us that Jesus is alive even in the midst of the human condition. At the end of the day, however, there is one nifty word for Easter; it is Alleluia. Alleluia is not an intelligible exclamation but rather a kind of ecstatic babble which wells up in our hearts because of robins in the springtime and life-giving churches and people like Fr. Mychal Judge.

[1] Order Of St. Francis

[2]] By “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!

[3] Acts of the Apostles 17:24

[4] Because of his “heretical” writings Bruno, a Dominican friar, was condemned by the Inquisition of the Medieval Church. He was brought to the Campo de' Fiori, a central Roman market square, his tongue in a gag, tied to a pole naked and burned at the stake, on February 17, 1600. A statue of Giordano Bruno created by Ettore Ferrari was erected at Campo de' Fiori in Rome in 1889 on the day of the Holy Spirit. It looks in the direction of the Vatican.

A Strange New God

(Palm & Passion Sunday)

March 16, 2008: Sunday of the Lord’s Passion
Isaiah 50:4-7 Philippians 2:6-11 Matthew 27:11-54

To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]

Second reading: Philippians 2:6-11

Christ Jesus, though he was in the form of God, did not regard equality with God something to be grasped. Rather, he emptied himself, taking the form of a slave, coming in human likeness; and found human in appearance, he humbled himself, becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross. Because of this, God greatly exalted him and bestowed on him the name which is above every name, that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, of those in heaven and on earth and under the earth, and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord, to the glory of God the Father.


The Passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ
according to Matthew27:11-54

The governor Pilate

Jesus stood before the governor, Pontius Pilate, who questioned him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus said, “You say so.” And when he was accused by the chief priests and elders, he made no answer. Then Pilate said to him, “Do you not hear how many things they are testifying against you?” But he did not answer him one word, so that the governor was greatly amazed.

The prisoner Barabbas

Now on the occasion of the feast the governor was accustomed to release to the crowd one prisoner whom they wished. And at that time, they had a notorious prisoner called Barabbas. So when they had assembled, Pilate said to them, “Which one do you want me to release to you, Barabbas, or Jesus called Christ?” For he knew that it was out of envy that they had handed him over. While he was still seated on the bench, his wife sent him a message, “Have nothing to do with that righteous man. I suffered much in a dream today because of him.” The chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowds to ask for Barabbas but to destroy Jesus. The governor said to them in reply, “Which of the two do you want me to release to you?” They answered, "Barabbas!”Pilate said to them, “Then what shall I do with Jesus called Christ?” They all said, “Let him be crucified!” But he said, “Why? What evil has he done?” They only shouted the louder, “Let him be crucified!” When Pilate saw that he was not succeeding at all, but that a riot was breaking out instead, he took water and washed his hands in the sight of the crowd, saying, “I am innocent of this man’s blood. Look to it yourselves.” And the whole people said in reply, “His blood be upon us and upon our children.” Then he released Barabbas to them, but after he had Jesus scourged, he handed him over to be crucified.

The Roman soldiers

Then the soldiers of the governor took Jesus inside the praetorium and gathered the whole cohort around him. They stripped off his clothes and threw a scarlet military cloak about him. Weaving a crown out of thorns, they placed it on his head, and a reed in his right hand. And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, “Hail, King of the Jews!” They spat upon him and took the reed and kept striking him on the head. And when they had mocked him, they stripped him of the cloak, dressed him in his own clothes, and led him off to crucify him.
As they were going out, they met a Cyrenian named Simon; this man they pressed into service to carry his cross And when they came to a place called Golgotha — which means Place of the Skull — they gave Jesus wine to drink mixed with gall. But when he had tasted it, he refused to drink. After they had crucified him, they divided his garments by casting lots; then they sat down and kept watch over him there. And they placed over his head the written charge against him: This is Jesus, the King of the Jews. Two revolutionaries were crucified with him, one on his right and the other on his left.

The jeering crowds

Those passing by reviled him, shaking their heads and saying, “You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself, if you are the Son of God, and come down from the cross!” Likewise, the chief priests with the scribes and elders mocked him and said, “He saved others; he cannot save himself. So he is the king of Israel! Let him come down from the cross now, and we will believe in him. He trusted in God; let him deliver him now if he wants him. For he said, ‘I am the Son of God.’” The revolutionaries who were crucified with him also kept abusing him in the same way.

The death of Jesus

From noon onward, darkness came over the whole land until three in the afternoon. And about three o’clock Jesus cried out in a loud voice, “Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?” which means, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Some of the bystanders who heard it said, “This one is calling for Elijah.” Immediately one of them ran to get a sponge; he soaked it in wine, and putting it on a reed, gave it to him to drink. But the rest said, “Wait, let us see if Elijah comes to save him.” But Jesus cried out again in a loud voice, and gave up his spirit.

(Here all kneel and pause for a moment).

And behold, the veil of the sanctuary was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth quaked, rocks were split, tombs were opened, and the bodies of many saints who had fallen asleep were raised. And coming forth from their tombs after his resurrection, they entered the holy city and appeared to many. The centurion and the men with him who were keeping watch over Jesus feared greatly when they saw the earthquake and all that was happening, and they said, “Truly, this was the Son of God!”

Introduction
Palm Sunday 2008

Palm Sunday starts off Holy Week which recounts the Lord’s Last Supper with his disciples on Holy Thursday, his crucifixion and death on Good Friday and his rising from the tomb on Easter Sunday. On the first day of Lent, February 6, 2008, we received ashes to remind us that we are dust, and unto dust we shall return. On this last Sunday of Lent, March 16, 2008, we receive blessed palms at Mass, some of which will be burned to make the ashes for Ash Wednesday, February 25, 2009. The first Palm SundayOn Palm Sunday, Jesus, put an end to his cautious incognito and made a bold and public entry into Jerusalem. That started off an inevitable collision course with the religious and political authorities. Crowds gathered to see this rabbi from Galilee. They shouted and sang Hosanna to the Son of David. They threw their garments on the pathway before him to cushion his ride. They strew his path with palm branches—the symbol of triumph. When the angry Pharisees saw this, they ordered Jesus to put a check on his enthusiastic friends, but he replied, “If I silence them, the stones themselves will cry out in their behalf.” (Lk 19: 28-40)

The Passion

Palm Sunday is also called Passion Sunday. The gospel for Palm Sunday Mass is always announced with the age-old venerable formula The Passion (The Suffering) of our Lord Jesus Christ according to…. The Passion is a long account of the Lord’s sufferings found in all four gospels. It is a blow-by-blow description of his physical sufferings: the scourging at the pillar, the crowning with thorns, the carrying of the cross, the parching of his throat and the piercing of his heart by a centurion’s spear. It is also a blow-by-blow description of the Lord’s spiritual sufferings: the jeers of human beings who have lost their humanity, the disappointment of betrayal by one he had chosen, the painful sight of his mother weeping at his side, and, worst of all, the seeming abandonment by God his Father.

Gods who make people suffer

On 9/11 Usama bin Laden and Islamic extremists brought down two towers and three thousand innocent human beings in the name of Allah, Most Merciful. Usama’s God is a terrorist who inspires Islamic extremists to make western infidels suffer. On the occasion of 9/11, Christian preacher Jerry Falwell pointed his finger at pagans, abortionists, feminists, gays, lesbians, the A.C.L.U. and People for the American Way. He declared that they had helped to make that horrific event happen! Jerry’s God was also a terrorist who used Islamic extremists to make Americans suffer for their immorality.

The day after Christmas, 2004, the worst tsunami in recent memory inundated southeastern Asia, ruthlessly sweeping away 140,000 people. The worst casualties were the living. Along thousands of miles of costal regions people were crying out in various languages and with various gestures of grief, “God, why do you make us suffer so much?” Soon clerics in synagogues, churches and mosques all over the world were offering age-old and worn-out explanations of why humans suffer.

The chief rabbi of Israel said, “This is an expression of God’s great anger upon the world.” An Islamic imam said, “The disaster is a reminder from Allah that he who created the world can also destroy it.” Perhaps evangelist Falwell, on that occasion, pointed his finger again into people’s faces and said, “All you pagans out there helped make this happen.” At the end of the day, the God of those diverse clerics is a terrorist who used a catastrophic tsunami to make people suffer for their immorality or to simply remind them who is in charge.

A strange new God who makes no one suffer!

Into such a god-awful theological world (where gods are terrorists who make immoral sinners suffer or who strut around showing who’s boss comes the Christian’s God who makes no one at all suffer! After eons of angry, jealous and revengeful Greek and Roman gods, who made humans suffers for their bad deeds (and sometimes even for their good ones) a God who makes no one at all suffer is, indeed, a strange new God and a very welcomed relief!


Unlike Jerry Falwell, Bernie Heeran, a retired firefighter whose son Charlie was killed on 9/11, had it down right when he said, “God is no terrorist. God had nothing to do with this [9/11]. He makes no one suffer. He was, in fact, fighting evil that day, like He does every day, and He was inviting us to join Him in the fight.”

A strange new God who Himself suffers!

What’s more, the Christian’s God, who does not make humans suffer, does Himself suffer! That is too incredible to believe! When God entered into our atmosphere in the Incarnation, God lost a heat shield against suffering. God, like us, could now suffer. An early Christian hymn, recorded in today’s second reading from Philippians, declares nothing less than that.

“Have this mind in you which was in Christ Jesus:
though he was very God, he did not cling
to his equality with God but emptied himself
and took the form of a servant.
He became a human being like the rest of us,
and he became obedient to death,
yes, even to death on a cross.”
(Phil 2: 5-8)

While this God who suffers is “a stumbling block to the Jews and pure nonsense to the Gentiles” (I Cor 1: 23), at the end of the day, He is a very welcomed relief, after eons of gods who were Scot-free of suffering, but who made (and still make) people suffer. Such a God is good news, that is to say, is Gospel! The passion, [the suffering] of our Lord Jesus Christ according to Matthew read this morning is the good news that God Himself suffers!

A strange new God who suffers because we suffer!

What’s more, the Christian’s God is a Father who suffers because we, His children, suffer. Mystic theologian Pierre Teilhard de Chardin whose voice echoed through the deliberation chambers of Vatican II, writes, “It is thoroughly in accord with the Gospel to regard God across the ages as weeping over the world in ceaseless effort to spare the world its bitter sufferings and to bind up its wounds.” (Divine Milieu) Any other kind of God, Teilhard says, is insufferable. A God, who weeps when His children suffer, is not only sufferable but is, indeed, wonderful good news.

Conclusion

A strange new God who suffers because He Himself suffers!
What’s more, the Father in heaven suffers not only because His children suffer but also because He Himself suffers! He suffers because in the Incarnation He has a dearly beloved Son of his own in whom He is well pleased, but whom men took and nailed to a cross.

Some time ago the news reported that two spokespersons from the War Department drove up to a home, knocked at the door and announced to a father that his marine son (a dearly beloved young man in whom his father was well pleased) had been killed in Iraq. Overwhelmed with rage and grief the father tore out of the house and torched their car. In his heart of hearts, he was crying out at God asking, “You who sit up there Scot-free of all suffering, where were you, and what were you doing when my son’s life was cut short in Iraq?”

After the Incarnation in which God begot an earthly Son, God can now fire back at the grieving father and say, “Just a minute, dear man! I, too, am a Father. I, too, have a Son. What was I doing when your son’s life was cut short in Iraq? I was doing just what you are doing now. I was weeping over a Son of my own in whom I was well-pleased, but whom men took and nailed to a cross.”

[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!
[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24

Imitations of Immortality

(Lazarus, Come Out!)

March 9, 2008, 5th Sunday of Lent: the Raising of Lazarus
Ezekiel 37:12-14 Romans 8:8-11 John 11:1-45

To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]

First reading from Ezekiel 37:12-14

“I will open your graves.”

Thus says the Lord God: O my people, I will open your gravesand have you rise from them, and bring you back to the land of Israel. Then you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves and have you rise from them, O my people! I will put my spirit in you that you may live, and I will settle you upon your land; thus, you shall know that I am the Lord. I have promised that I will do this---and I will. I, the Lord have spoken.

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to John
Glory to you, Lord.

The gospel from John 11:1-45
“Lazarus, come out!”

Jn 11:1-3, 5-8, 11-14: Lazarus dying

A man named Lazarus, who lived in Bethany, became sick. Bethany was the town where Mary and her sister Martha lived. (Mary was the one who had anointed the Lord with perfumed oil and dried his feet with her hair; it was her brother Lazarus who was ill.) The sisters sent Jesus a message, “Lord, your dear friend is sick.” Jesus loved Martha and her sister, and Lazarus. When Jesus heard that he was sick, he stayed where he was for two more days. Then he said to his disciples, “Let us go back to Judea.” The disciples said to him, “Rabbi, the Jews were just trying to stone you, and you want to go back there?” Jesus said, “Our friend Lazarus has fallen asleep, but I will go and wake him up.” The disciples answered, “If he is asleep, Lord, then he will get well.” But Jesus meant that Lazarus had died; they thought he meant natural sleep. So then, Jesus said to them clearly, “Lazarus is dead.”

Jn11:16-29: Martha believing

Thomas (called the Twin) said to his fellow disciples, “Let us all go back to unfriendly Judea with the Master, so that we may die there with him.” When Jesus arrived, he found that Lazarus had already been in the tomb for four days. Now Bethany was near Jerusalem, only about two miles away. And many of the Jews had come to Martha and Mary to comfort them about their brother. When Martha heard that Jesus was coming, she went to meet him; but Mary sat at home. Martha said to Jesus, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died. But even now I know that whatever you ask of God, God will give you.” Jesus said to her, “Your brother will rise.” Martha said to him, “I know he will rise, in the resurrection on the last day.” Jesus told her, “I am the resurrection and the life; whoever believes in me, even if he dies, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die. Do you believe this?” She said to him, “Yes, Lord. I do believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one who is coming into the world.” Then Martha went back and called her sister Mary privately. “The teacher is here,” she told her, “and is asking for you.” When Mary heard this, she rose quickly and went out to him.

Jn 11: 32-37: Jesus weeping

When Mary came to where Jesus was and saw him, she fell at his feet and said to him, “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” When Jesus saw her weeping and the Jews who had come with her weeping, he became perturbed and deeply troubled, and said, “Where have you laid him?” They said to him, “Sir, come and see.” And Jesus wept. So the Jews said, “See how he loved him.” But some of them said, “Could not the one who opened the eyes of the blind man have done something so that this man would not have died?”

Jn 11:38-45: Jesus commanding

So Jesus, grieving again, came to the tomb. It was a cave, and a stone lay across it. Jesus said, “Take away the stone.” Martha, the dead man’s sister, said to him, “Lord, by now there will be a stench; he has been dead for four days.” Jesus said to her, “Did I not tell you that if you believe you will see the glory of God?” So they took away the stone. And Jesus raised his eyes and said, “Father, I thank you for hearing me. I know that you always hear me; but because of the crowd here I have said this, that they may believe that you sent me.” And when he had said this, He cried out in a loud voice, “Lazarus, come out!” The dead man came out, tied hand and foot with burial bands, and his face was wrapped in a cloth. So Jesus said to them, “Untie him and let him go.” Now many of the Jews who had come to Mary and seen what he had done began to believe in him.

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

Introduction
A very special friendship

John writes that, “Jesus loved Martha and her sister, and Lazarus.” (Jn 11:5) Jesus apparently had a special friendship with them. He frequently visited their home in Bethany, a small village near Jerusalem. In the gospels we read of three visits. In Luke, Jesus visits their home where Martha, fussing about many things in preparation of a good meal for Jesus, is angry with Mary for sitting at the Lord’s feet instead of giving her a helping hand. (Lk 10:38-42) In today’s gospel, Jesus rushes to the sisters’ home when he hears their brother Lazarus (his dear friend) has died. (John 11:1-45) Again in John’s gospel Jesus visits the sisters and Lazarus (now alive and healthy), and Martha is again waiting on Jesus and her brother, while Mary pours expensive perfume on his feet and wipes them with her hair. (John 12:1-9)

Though Jesus had a special friendship with all three, the church has a special friendship only with Martha -- the one busy and fussing over many things, but who, at the end of the day, came to believe that “you are the Messiah, the Son of God.” (Jn 11:27) The church celebrates a special feast day (July 29) only for Martha and not for Mary and Lazarus.

Out to kill them both

John places the account of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead immediately before his passion and death. It was precisely the raising of Lazarus that incited the authorities in Jerusalem to make plans to put Jesus to death. In chapter twelve we read that many Jews flocked to Bethany because they knew that not only Jesus but also Lazarus (raised from the dead by Jesus) would be there. Because of that miracle many Jews were abandoning the Jerusalem authorities and were following the Lord. So the chief priests were out to kill not only Jesus, the worker of a miracle, but also Lazarus, the very miracle itself. (Jn 12:9-11)

Jesus commanding

As we approach the Good Friday tomb of Jesus, the fifth Sunday of Lent (Cycle A) always takes us to the tomb of Lazarus in Bethany where everyone was weeping. There Jesus also wept. (Jn 11:35) Arrived at the tomb he commanded the people to roll away the stone from the entrance to the tomb. (Jn 11:39) They obeyed and rolled the stone away. Then he commanded Lazarus to come out. He obeyed and came out. (Jn 11:43) Then he commanded the people to untie Lazarus and set him free. (Jn 11:44) They obeyed and Lazarus was set free. Jesus Christ, true God and true man, for whom nothing is too heavy, could have easily rolled the rock back by himself, but, as C.S. Lewis said, “God seems to do nothing of Himself which He can possibly delegate to His creatures.”

Tombs we build for ourselves

The human journey is strewn with the various tombs we build for ourselves. We build comforting tombs of self-pity, painful tombs of jealousy and cold tombs of fear. We build sweaty tombs of hate, nervous tombs of fret and foggy tombs of addiction. We especially build tombs of certainty for ourselves -- fortresses which conveniently shut out anything we do not want to see and hear -- prisons which happily lock us up in our certainties. Fetus-like we curl up in all these tombs and linger there retarded, unless the process of growth (mandated for all living things) succeeds in calling us out of their darkness and stench.

On this fifth Sunday of our Lenten repentance, Jesus bends down and calls into the tombs we build for ourselves and commands us to come out. And at the tomb which a loved one has built for himself, Jesus commands us to help roll the stone away for him and cut him free from his burial cloths. Yes, during this season of Lenten repentance Jesus calls into the tomb of certainty which even the church has built for herself. In that tomb are certainties about the “one-true-church,” sexuality, homosexuality, celibacy, the ordination of women, etc. Tombs and prisons those certainties are, and Jesus calls in and commands the church to come out and set herself free for a holy conversation with the entire people of God.

The tomb death builds for us

The mother of all tombs, however, is the tomb that death builds for us. That’s the tomb from which all other tombs get their umbrage and stench. That’s the tomb in which Lazarus lay for four days. That’s the tomb in which Jesus lay for three days. That’s the tomb in which you and I and all the ones we love are finally and surely laid to rest. That’s the tomb which the Lord God of Ezekiel promised us He would open to set our beloved dead free. That’s the tomb which Jesus ordered to be opened to set Lazarus free. That’s the tomb in which Jesus was laid on Good Friday until God set him free on Easter morning.

Though we might succeed in evading the thought of the tomb, at the end of the day, there is no escaping its fact. In a little volume entitled A View from the Ridge, Morris West (who characterizes himself as an optimist) in his eightieth year faces the inescapable fact that we are born to die. He writes,

We are conceived without our consent and come whimpering into a mad universe with our death sentence already written on the palms of our helpless hands: a cancer will eat our guts, a fanatic with a sword will cut off our heads, a drunken fool will mow us down with an automobile [a sociopath will shoot up our sons and daughters in a university classroom]. There might be deferment of the death sentence to a ripe old age of 80 but there is no amnesty from it.

Morris West trusts.

In the same little volume West pictures himself as a climber who, after a long and arduous ascent, has reached a height and then pauses to catch his breath to muster up enough courage for the last lap of his journey. He writes,

Before me the land falls steeply into a dark valley, beyond which I see (or I think I see) the lights of the city which is the goal of my pilgrimage. By any measure of time, I am not far away from it, but I wonder, as I have often wondered before, whether the city is an illusion and whether its lights are only jack-o-lanterns. However, I have always known that one day I would have to go down alone into the dark valley and make my own discovery of what lies on the other side.

Strange as it may seem, I am not afraid. I have accepted long since the fact that a confession of faith is a confession of not knowing. I have accepted to trust that the city does exist, and that the lights are real, and that what awaits the pilgrim is a homecoming. Prove it I cannot, but with trust I accept it.

Trusting our hearts

Morris (who died in 1999 in the 83rd year of his life) trusted concerning the grave, and so do we. What is it we both trust? We trust our hearts. We trust our hearts demanding nothing less than life beyond the grave for a departed and very beloved spouse of many years. We trust our hearts demanding life eternal for a son or daughter, a brother or sister, a husband or wife whose young life has been cut short in the battlefields of Iraq. We trust our hearts demanding blissful eternal life for a loved one finally laid to rest after a very long painful battle with cancer. We trust our hearts demanding nothing less than life beyond the grave even for man’s best friend -- our faithful and loving dogs.

We trust our hearts. We trust that such demands of our hearts are not tricks our hearts are playing on us. We trust that such demands are our hearts knowing (in the very unique way that the heart knows) that the heavenly Jerusalem does exist, and that its lights are real. We trust our hearts, even though our heads cannot strictly prove anything in the domain of the profound.

A robin

That trust, however, is not a sheer shot in the dark which grits its teeth and believes with simply no proof at all that the heavenly Jerusalem exists. That trust has its own unique kind of proof. It’s the kind of proof we in northern climes experience in the yearly rebirth of spring. At first we are delighted with the first snow which turns the landscape into a winter-wonder-land. But winter soon turns into a tomb for us (as it especially did this year). A heap of snow like a huge rock lies before its entrance. We become P. O. Ws—Prisoners Of Winter. By the beginning of March , we have had it and are crying out, “Who shall roll the huge stone away for us?” Suddenly one day, a solitary robin appears, and the silly thing hoists her wings against the huge rock. She does not know (or does not care to know) that there's one more blizzard waiting in the wings.

At the end of the day, however, we know that the back of winter has been broken when the first robin appears. From now on it is the snow that's silly. Diehard snowdrifts, holding on for dear life, finally succumb to the newborn sun, and spring bursts forth in all its glory. All heaven and earth are flooded with intimations of immortality[3] -- with hints and hunches that God, indeed, will open all our graves and raise us up and bring us to the land of Israel.

A cardinal

A friend, who bravely battled ovarian cancer for two years and finally succumbed to it, wrote in an Easter card,

I like spring a lot. It's a time when so many things are giving just the slightest inkling, the smallest sign, that perhaps things aren't really what they appear to be--dead. Trees aren't really dead at all. Seeds aren't really lifeless pebbles. There is a lady cardinal taking twigs, one at a time, to a secret place in a fir tree. It's the merest whisper of a promise of things to come.

A mystic experience

On his blog a wayfarer writes of a mystic experience.

I have said a few things here about the spirit, but the other day I felt its reality. I was walking up Desborough Avenue to the intersection with West Wycombe Road. People in their cars were waiting for the lights to change. Pedestrians were on their way to the doctor’s surgery or the clinic next door which does blood tests and so forth. Mechanics were fixing cars in a yard. I don’t quite know what triggered it, but it hit me that all of us are more than our bodies and minds.

It is so easy to say, “Oh, yes, I have always believed in that!” or perhaps, “No, there’s no evidence for that!” What hit me was an experience that I cannot easily put in words. In that moment, near the traffic lights, about 11 AM on Tuesday, June 13, 2006, I had personal knowledge of the spirit. My knowing had nothing to do with religion. There are no short cuts to such knowing. It was a subtle intimation, but I will never be the same anymore.

Conclusion
Intimations of immortality

At the sunset of his life, Morris West wrote that he accepted to trust that the heavenly Jerusalem does exist, and that what awaits him is a homecoming. He could not prove it; he trusted it. We too trust. We trust that our hearts are not playing tricks on us as we demand nothing less than eternal life for all the living beings we love. And we trust the silly robin hoisting her wings against the rock before the tomb of winter, and the lady cardinal carrying a twig to a secret place and the mystic experience which suddenly pops up before us at an intersection in our journey. We trust them as Intimations of Immortality. Because of them we are never the same anymore.


[1]] By “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!

[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24

[3] Intimations of Immorality is the title of one of William Wordsworth odes

Sent to Open Eyes & Blind Them

(Laetare! Rejoice! Halfway through Lent to Easter!)

March 2, 2008, 4th Sunday of Lent: the man born blind
Exodus 17:1-4 Romans 5:1-2, 5-8 John 9:1-39

To the churched and unchurched[1]
gathered in a church not built by human hands[2]

Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to John
Glory to you, Lord.

Jn 9:1-7: Physical blindness

As Jesus passed by, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” Jesus answered, “Neither he nor his parents sinned; it is so that the works of God might be made visible through him. We have to do the works of the one who sent me while it is day. Night is coming when no one can work. While I am in the world, I am the light of the world.” When he had said this, he spat on the ground and made clay with the saliva, and smeared the clay on his eyes,
and said to him, “Go and wash in the Pool of Siloam” which means Sent.. So he went and washed, and came back able to see.

His neighbors and those who had seen him earlier as a beggar said, “Isn’t this the one who used to sit and beg?” Some said, “It is, “but others said, “No, he just looks like him.” He said, “I am.” So they said to him, “How were your eyes opened?” He replied, “The man called Jesus made clay and anointed my eyes and told me, ‘Go to Siloam and wash.’ So I went there and washed and was able to see.” And they said to him, “Where is he?” He said, “I don’t know.”

Jn 9:8-21: Spiritual blindness

They brought the one who was once blind to the Pharisees. Now Jesus had made clay and opened his eyes on a Sabbath. So then the Pharisees also asked him how he was able to see. He said to them, “He put clay on my eyes, and I washed, and now I can see.” So some of the Pharisees said, “This man is not from God, because he does not keep the Sabbath.” But others said, “How can a sinful man do such signs?” And there was a division among them. So they said to the blind man again, “What do you have to say about him, since he opened your eyes?” He said, “He is a prophet.”

Now the Jews did not believe that he had been blind and gained his sight until they summoned the parents of the one who had gained his sight. They asked them, “Is this your son, who you say was born blind? How does he now see?” His parents answered and said, “We know that this is our son and that he was born blind. We do not know how he sees now, nor do we know who opened his eyes. Ask him, he is of age; he can speak for himself.” His parents said this because they were afraid of the Jews, for the Jews had already agreed that if anyone acknowledged him as the Christ, he would be expelled from the synagogue. For this reason his parents said, “He is of age; question him.”

Jn 9:22-34: More spiritual blindness

So a second time they called the man who had been blind and said to him, “Give God the praise! We know that this man is a sinner.” He replied, “If he is a sinner, I do not know. One thing I do know is that I was blind and now I see.” So they said to him, “What did he do to you? How did he open your eyes?” He answered them, “I told you already and you did not listen. Why do you want to hear it again? Do you want to become his disciples, too?”

They ridiculed him and said, “You are that man’s disciple; we are disciples of Moses! We know that God spoke to Moses, but we do not know where this one is from.” The man answered and said to them, “This is what is so amazing, that you do not know where he is from, yet he opened my eyes. We know that God does not listen to sinners, but if one is devout and does his will, he listens to him. It is unheard of that anyone ever opened the eyes of a person born blind. If this man were not from God, he would not be able to do anything.” They answered and said to him, “You were born totally in sin, and are you trying to teach us?” Then they threw him out of the synagogue.

Jn 9: 35-39: Spiritual sight

When Jesus heard that they had thrown the man out, he found him and said, “Do you believe in the Son of Man?” He answered and said, “Who is he, sir, that I may believe in him?” Jesus said to him, “You have seen him. I who speak with you am he.” He said, “I do believe, Lord,” and he worshiped him. Then Jesus said, “I came into this world for judgment, so that those who do not see might see, and those who do see might become blind.”

The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.


Introduction
Sent to open eyes

The prophet Isaiah foretold that the Messiah to come would open the ears of the deaf and the eyes of the blind. (Is 35:5; 42:7) On his way one day from Sidon to Lake Galilee Jesus came upon a deaf-mute. With spittle he touched the man’s ears and tongue, and with a deep groan he cried out, “Be thou opened!” At once the man’s ears were opened and his tongue was loosened. (Mk 7:31-35) When Jesus came to Bethsaida they brought a blind man to him, and after a couple attempts with spittle, Jesus succeeded in opening the man’s eyes. (Mk 8:22-25) When he and the disciples came to Jericho, a blind beggar named Bartimaeus earnestly beseeched Jesus to give him sight. Jesus said to him, “Go, your faith has made you well.” (Mk 10: 46-52)

Spiritual blindness & Lenten repentance

The classic story of Jesus curing a blind person is traditionally reserved for the fourth Sunday of Lent, cycle A. A man born blind is cured by Jesus on a Sabbath. His neighbors are perplexed and take him to the Pharisees. The spiritual leaders undertake a busybody investigation into the case. They summon the man and ask how is it that he can now see? He says a man named Jesus put mud on his eyes and now he sees. The Pharisees reject the thought that God would work a cure through a man who would violate the Sabbath. God does not work on a Sabbath, and He expects man not to work on a Sabbath, even if it is to work a miracle.

Then the Pharisees drag the man off to his parents and ask how it is that their son now sees? Afraid of being kicked out of the synagogue, they say they know nothing about the matter and tell the Pharisees to ask their son who can speak for himself. Again the Pharisees pull the man off to the side for further interrogation. By now he is exasperated and cries out, “I have already told you, but you do not listen. Must I tell you again!” When the simple man asks the spiritual leaders whether perhaps they might be interested in becoming a follower of Jesus, they bodily throw him out of the synagogue.

It is a classic story about a blind man whom Jesus has power to cure and about blind leaders whom Jesus has no power to cure. In fact, in its length and emphasis the story is more about the Pharisees than it is about the man cured by Jesus. From beginning to end it is a classic story about spiritual blindness and deafness -- a malady lodged not in our eyes and ears but in our hearts and minds -- a malady which calls for Lenten repentance.

Last Sunday’s gospel about Jesus and the Samaritan woman at the well, read in its entirety, rambles on for a good forty verses. This Sunday’s gospel is a rambler also, and there is a liturgical notation allowing it to be shortened. However, the lengthier and more rambling reading has a plus: it gradually builds up to a frustration which has us (as it had the once-blind man) crying out to his religious leaders, “For God’s sake, can’t you people see and hear?”

Frustration

It is obvious there is a shortage of priests everywhere which worsens every year. It is also obvious that burnout is overcoming the few priests who are left. (In the United States today there are more priests over 90 than there are priests under 30!) It is obvious that the shortage is really man-made, for there are many fine young men out there who cannot become priests simply because they want also to be husbands and fathers. It is also obvious that it is a great waste not to reap that harvest, especially in this period of great need. It is also obvious that importing clergy from foreign lands who cannot speak English very well or ordaining married deacons or turning Mass into a Communion service are not serious attempts to solve our problem; they are band-aids. All that seems obvious to many of us, and frustrated we find ourselves crying out at our religious leaders, “For God’s sake, can’t you people see and hear?”

More frustration

In a letter of Oct. 23, 2006 Bishop William S. Skylstad, president of the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, asked his fellow bishops to inform all pastors that non-ordained ministers of holy Communion (called “extraordinary ministers”) will no longer be permitted to assist in the purification of the sacred vessels after Mass! (That permission was granted back in 2002, and Rome refused to renew it in 2006.) As a whole system of pastoral care built up over a period of a thousand years, providing each congregation with a pastor to care for it, is now collapsing before our very eyes, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops is concerned about who may or may not do the dishes after Mass! Frustrated we find ourselves crying out at our religious leaders, “For God’s sake, can’t you people see and hear!

A few years ago, Rev. Sarah (a Presbyterian minister) and I officiated together at the funeral of her mother-in-law, the wife of a friend. In a gothic cemetery chapel Rev. Sarah clothed in clerical garb read eloquently from the Book of Proverbs, Chapter 31, which sings the praises of a woman who is a good mother, wife, and manager of her household. At the final commendation Rev. Sarah invited the crowd in the cemetery to draw near to the casket which was being kissed by a setting sun on a day filled with the feel of fall. Eloquently again Rev. Sarah pulled everyone into a heartfelt final good-bye to her mother-in-law.

It was obvious that Rev. Sarah liked what she was doing and that she did it very well. As I (approaching the ranks of the 90s) watched attentively, I found myself quietly exclaiming, “See how the Presbyterian Church has solved its crisis of ministry! See how it ordains women!” A bit frustrated I found myself quietly exclaiming at my church, “For God’s sake, can’t you see what the Presbyterian Church sees?”

Listening

When for a second time the Pharisees, spirituals leaders of the synagogue, ask the cured man how is it that he can now see, the frustrated man exclaims, “I have already told you, but you do not listen.” (Jn 9: 27)

On the day of his inauguration Pope Benedict, supreme spiritual leader of the church, promised to listen. In fact, he chose Benedict as his new papal name because St. Benedict, founder of the Benedictine Order, counseled his abbots (spiritual leaders of the abbey) to listen to and learn from the least monk in the community. In his inaugural homily the new pope promised that his “program of governance would be to listen together with the whole Church.”

In an open letter to the new pope in the NCR, Fr. Francis Gonsalves, a Jesuit in India , praised the new pope for his promise to listen. That, he claimed, is very important in view of the fact that, “Many Indians who religiously listen to God’s voice in nature and in other faiths and in their neighbors complain that the Roman Catholic Church only speaks but never listens.” An old dictum said Roma locuta, causa finita. (When Rome speaks, that’s it!) The dictum should have given us pause but it didn’t. It simply sent us all as silent sheep on our way.

In an open letter of our own to the pope we write,

Dear Benedict, we, the people of God, welcome your speaking on the great issues that belabor the church, like birth control, divorce and remarriage, intercommunion, sacramental confession, sexuality, homosexuality, celibacy and the ordination of women. Your teaching is, indeed, valuable and useful for us. But we also welcome your listening to the people of God as we debate those issues. Your listening will, indeed, be very valuable and useful for you.

We welcome a church which sees her teaching not as erroneous but as inevitably impoverished before the ineffable mystery of God. We welcome a church which does not claim to have the last word about the important issues which belabor us, but rather the first word. That is a word which launches the whole church off into a holy conversation in which everyone teaches and everyone listens. We welcome a church which resists the temptation to control or direct the conversation toward predetermined conclusions.

Dear Benedict, we welcome a church that listens to the people of God who are always speaking, and speaking in different ways. Some speak with their feet by simply leaving the church. When, in fact, you (a cardinal from Germany and not from Africa) was elected as pope, some said the College of Cardinals wished to draw attention not to Africa where the church is alive and well but to western Europe--to Spain, France, Germany, and Italy, where a great number of the people have spoken with their feet and have left the church!

Others speak not by leaving the church but by simply ignoring official teaching. Without your help they solve (or leave unsolved) issues like birth control, divorce, homosexuality, sacramental confession, etc., and then they quietly participate in the sacramental life of the church which for various reasons they have no intention to leave.

Conclusion
Sent to open eyes and blind them

That rambling story about the man born blind ends with a line from the mouth of Jesus. It indicts the spiritual leaders and all of us, and at the same time it declares Jesus’ mystic mission to open eyes and blind them.

"I have come into this world so that the blind should see,
and those who see should become blind"
(Jn 9:39).

Translation:

I have come into this world
to show those who see everything
and who have a last word about everything
and who only talk but do not listen
that they are spiritually blind and deaf.

And I have come into this world
to give sight to those who see that they do not see
and who, like Bartimaeus, earnestly beseech the Lord to see
and then do not shrink from what they see.
And I have come into this world to give hearing to those
who not only speak but also listen,
and then do not shrink from what they hear.

[1]] By the “the unchurched” is especially meant not those who have left the church but those whom the church has left!

[2] Acts of the Apostles 17:24