Fr. Mychal Judge O.S.F
5/11, 1933 – 9/11, 2001
A Man Who Resurrected God
Easter Sunday, April 4, 2010
Acts 10:34a, 37-43 Col 3:1-4 or I Cor 5:6b-8 Lk 24: 13-35
Alleluia, alleluia.
A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke.
Glory to you, Lord.
Conversing on the road to Emmaus (Lk 24:13-17)
That very day, the first day of the week, two of Jesus’ disciples were going to a village seven miles from Jerusalem called Emmaus, and they were conversing about all the things that had occurred. And it happened that while they were conversing and debating, Jesus himself drew near and walked with them, but their eyes were prevented from recognizing Him. He said to them, “You seem to be in deep discussion about something.” He asked, “What are you so concerned about?” They stopped short, sadness written across their faces.
“What happened there?”(Lk 24:18-24)
One of them named Cleopas answered, “You must be the only visitor to Jerusalem who doesn’t know what happened there these last days.” Jesus asked, “What happened there?” They answered: “Jesus the Nazarene, who was a prophet mighty in deed and word before God and all the people, was sentence to death and crucifixion by our chief priests and rulers. But we were hoping that He would be the one to redeem Israel. Besides all this, it’s now the third day since this took place. Some women from our group, however, surprised us: they were at the tomb early in the morning and did not find His body. Then they came back and reported that they had, indeed, seen a vision of angels who announced that He was alive. Some of our people went straight off to the tomb, and sure enough, they found an empty tomb, just as the women had reported.”
“Stay with us, for it is nearly evening.” (Lk 24:25-29)
Jesus said in reply, “How dull you people are! How slow you are to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” Then beginning with Moses and all the prophets, He interpreted to them what referred to Him in all the Scriptures. As they approached the village to which they were going, He gave the impression that He was going on farther. But they urged Him, “Stay with us, for it is nearly evening and the day is almost over.” So He went in to stay with them.
They recognized Him in the breaking of bread. (Lk 24:30-35)
And it happened that, while He was with them at table, He took the bread, said the blessing, broke it, and gave it to them. With that their eyes were opened and they recognized Him in the breaking of the bread. Then He vanished from their sight. The disciples said to each other, “Were not our hearts burning within us while He spoke to us on the way and opened the Scriptures to us?” So they set out at once for Jerusalem where they found the eleven disciples gathered together with the others and saying, “The Lord has truly been raised and has appeared to Simon!” Then the two recounted what had taken place on the road to Emmaus, and how they recognized Him in the breaking of bread.
The Gospel of the Lord.
Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.
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Introduction
Nietzsche’s dead God
Introduction
Nietzsche’s dead God
German philosopher Friedrich Wilhelm Nietzsche (1844–1900) is famous for his strange but intriguing declaration that "God is Dead." In his work The Madman, he places the expression in the mouth of a demented man who declares,
God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed Him. How shall we (murderers of all murderers) comfort ourselves? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has known has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to cleanse ourselves? (The Madman)
God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed Him. How shall we (murderers of all murderers) comfort ourselves? What was holiest and mightiest of all that the world has known has bled to death under our knives. Who will wipe this blood off us? What water is there for us to cleanse ourselves? (The Madman)
The awful power of Nazis to murder God
Nietzsche was right: man has the awful power to murder God. On November 9, 1938, the Nazis rampaged through Germany and in one night destroyed 7000 Jewish businesses and torched 191 synagogues. That date marks the beginning in earnest of the Holocaust. By the time the German Nazis had accomplished their `final solution of the Jewish problem,’ they had murdered six million Jews.
The most prominent fatality of the Holocaust, however, was God Himself. Elie Weisel, the Holocaust’s most prominent Jewish survivor, recounts in a little volume entitled Night his first evening in the concentration camp of Buchenwald. There he saw the bodies of little children going up in smoke from the crematories. He writes, “That was the night which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams into dust. Never shall I forget it, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never! “
The most prominent fatality of the Holocaust, however, was God Himself. Elie Weisel, the Holocaust’s most prominent Jewish survivor, recounts in a little volume entitled Night his first evening in the concentration camp of Buchenwald. There he saw the bodies of little children going up in smoke from the crematories. He writes, “That was the night which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams into dust. Never shall I forget it, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never! “
The awful power of Islamic terrorists to murder God
Nietzsche was right: man has the awful power to murder God. On September 11, 2001, Islamic terrorists crashed two 747’s into the Twin Towers in Lower Manhattan, murdering 2800 innocent human beings. After ten months of grim labor, workers at ground zero, together with the families of victims of 9/11, gathered at a Staten Island landfill on July 15, 2002 to mark the end of a grueling and emotional ten-month operation which had hauled away 2,000,000 tons of debris, 1600 identified bodies and 20,000 body parts.
Again, the most prominent fatality of September 11 was God Himself! For New Yorkers God had been momentarily murdered on 9/11. One New Yorker, a security guard who lost more than thirty friends that awful day, said of that horrific event: “It was utterly barbaric the way their lives were taken. So I look at God now as a barbarian and I probably always will. My old God is dead, and I can’t bring Him back to life.”
Again, the most prominent fatality of September 11 was God Himself! For New Yorkers God had been momentarily murdered on 9/11. One New Yorker, a security guard who lost more than thirty friends that awful day, said of that horrific event: “It was utterly barbaric the way their lives were taken. So I look at God now as a barbarian and I probably always will. My old God is dead, and I can’t bring Him back to life.”
The awesome power of man to resurrect God
Man, indeed, has the awful power to murder God, but man also has the awesome power to resurrect God from the dead! Fr. Mychal Judge (May 11, 1933— Sept 11, 2001) had such awesome power. A priest of the Franciscan Order and beloved chaplain of the NYC Fire Department Judge raised God from the dead for New Yorkers, when Islamist terrorist had murdered Him on 9/11.
On that apocalyptic day, chaplain Judge had rushed to ground zero where he became 9/11’s first recorded fatality. 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 wasreverently carried off by his fellow firefighters to nearby Episcopal St. Paul's chapel at 209 Broadway. There it was reverently laid on an altar. That solemn drama of Fr. Judge’s last moments crowned a life of extraordinary unselfishness.
On that apocalyptic day, chaplain Judge had rushed to ground zero where he became 9/11’s first recorded fatality. 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 wasreverently carried off by his fellow firefighters to nearby Episcopal St. Paul's chapel at 209 Broadway. There it was reverently laid on an altar. That solemn drama of Fr. Judge’s last moments crowned a life of extraordinary unselfishness.
Fr. Judge, the sinner
New Yorkers knew that Fr. Judge was a restless and pained man who wrestled with his own private demons. He was a recovering alcoholic and an outspoken AA advocate. He was earthy, streetwise, and well-attuned to the character and chaos of their big city. He used language `unbefitting the cloth’. “Look man,” he’d tell an alcoholic, “you’re not a bad person. You have a disease which makes you think you’re bad, and that’s going to f… you up.”
New Yorkers also knew that Fr. Judge was a gay man. 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). And then to top it off, New Yorkers saw him garbed in his Franciscan habit and marching inconspicuously (or conspicuously) in the first gay-inclusive St. Patrick’s Day parade. His very vulnerability, imperfection, fragile humanity and honest humility touched the New York multitudes in their own pain, shame and fragility. Even more importantly, he points out a new kind of saint – one much more meaningful than the holy-card kind, with which most people can’t identify. Fr. Judge points out a new kind of saint which the church should start to recognize and canonize.
Fr. Judge, the saint
But Fr. Judge had another and utterly heart-warming and inspiring side to him. He had a legendary knack of story-telling, and he could burst into old Irish standards at the drop of a hat. He had a great talent for making people feel as though they were the only ones in the room. And he, priest of God, had a bartender's gift for bringing strangers together.
More importantly, Judge had deep compassion for New York City’s needy and forgotten. He knew everyone from the homeless to Mayor Rudolph Giuliani who declared at his funeral that, “This man was a saint.” He had an encyclopedic memory for people’s names, birthdays, and passions. And though he was a true New Yorker, born and raised in the City, he lived on an entirely different plain of priorities than theirs: he was non-acquisitive, unselfish and utterly uncomplaining.
No wonder, then, when Cardinal Edward Egan presided at his funeral on September 15, 2001, in St. Francis of Assisi Church, NYC, the Mass was attended by a sea of 3,000 people. In that immense crowd were city officials, former President Bill Clinton and New York Senator Hillary Clinton with daughter Chelsea. The funeral homily was broadcast worldwide over three TV networks. And when a memorial service was later held in the Anglican chapel of the Good Shepherd Chapel on Ninth Ave, cops, firefighter, lawyers, priests, nuns, homeless people, rock-and-rollers, recovering alcoholics, local politicians and middle age couples from the suburbs came flocking from every direction to celebrate a man, who in New Yorkers’ very darkest hour had resurrected a dead God for them.
More importantly, Judge had deep compassion for New York City’s needy and forgotten. He knew everyone from the homeless to Mayor Rudolph Giuliani who declared at his funeral that, “This man was a saint.” He had an encyclopedic memory for people’s names, birthdays, and passions. And though he was a true New Yorker, born and raised in the City, he lived on an entirely different plain of priorities than theirs: he was non-acquisitive, unselfish and utterly uncomplaining.
No wonder, then, when Cardinal Edward Egan presided at his funeral on September 15, 2001, in St. Francis of Assisi Church, NYC, the Mass was attended by a sea of 3,000 people. In that immense crowd were city officials, former President Bill Clinton and New York Senator Hillary Clinton with daughter Chelsea. The funeral homily was broadcast worldwide over three TV networks. And when a memorial service was later held in the Anglican chapel of the Good Shepherd Chapel on Ninth Ave, cops, firefighter, lawyers, priests, nuns, homeless people, rock-and-rollers, recovering alcoholics, local politicians and middle age couples from the suburbs came flocking from every direction to celebrate a man, who in New Yorkers’ very darkest hour had resurrected a dead God for them.
Conclusion
One nifty word for Easter: “Alleluia!”
Words fall short (and should fall short) especially on Easter Morning. The words of a homily which pretend `to prove’ that Jesus truly rose from the dead are never brilliantly successful. More successful in engendering Easter faith is the yearly robin rolling away the stone before the tomb of winter, building her nest according to an eternal blueprint, and announcing the resurrection of spring.
More successful in engendering Easter faith is a vibrant parish rolling away the stone before the tomb of a dead God, and making Him come alive with living Liturgy and living Word. More successful in engendering Easter faith is a sinful saint like Mychal Judge rolling away the huge stone before the tomb of a murdered God, and assuring New Yorkers that God is, indeed, alive.
Words fall short (and should fall short) especially on Easter Morning. At the end of the day, there is only one nifty word for Easter: “Alleluia!” Alleluia is an unintelligible exclamation; it’s a kind of ecstatic babble which wells up in our hearts because of nesting robins, vibrant parishes and saintly sinners like Mychal Judge.
More successful in engendering Easter faith is a vibrant parish rolling away the stone before the tomb of a dead God, and making Him come alive with living Liturgy and living Word. More successful in engendering Easter faith is a sinful saint like Mychal Judge rolling away the huge stone before the tomb of a murdered God, and assuring New Yorkers that God is, indeed, alive.
Words fall short (and should fall short) especially on Easter Morning. At the end of the day, there is only one nifty word for Easter: “Alleluia!” Alleluia is an unintelligible exclamation; it’s a kind of ecstatic babble which wells up in our hearts because of nesting robins, vibrant parishes and saintly sinners like Mychal Judge.
