April 23 2006 At Saint Mark Church, Norman, OK No Audio is available for this Sunday

Acts 4:32-25 + 1 John 5:1-6 + John 20:19-31

This Gospel has been proclaimed on the Sunday after Easter for my whole life and beyond. All of us have heard it over and over again. It was the Gospel proclaimed at my first Mass in 1968. Consequently, each time I hear it, I am filled with memories and gratitude. Each time I have preached and reflected on this text, I am drawn deeper and deeper into John’s Gospel, and part of that is because each time I preach it, more and more people have departed from my life through death leaving me less interested in Thomas and the other Apostles, and more interested in the transformation of their relationship with Christ. That is really what this is all about: a transformation of relationship from being with someone to being in someone.

What is this manifestation of Jesus and how does he get in that room? A shallow reading of these texts would leave us with the impression that there is some kind of resuscitated corpse popping up now and then like something in a movie with all kinds of technical special effects.

John never intended to suggest that their eyes saw something. This experience is not a “sighting”! What is happening here is that they were able to read the signs of his wounded and open body. This was their recognition that through those wounds there is now access to the divine life which is being poured out for us. They understood as we must that the opening of the side of Jesus recalled the birth of Eve from the side of Adam. These wounds are channels that make life with God available. Here is the truth of this death that leads to Joy. God loves us enough to die for us.

For those faithful disciples who came together and stayed together, the coming of Christ was a regular event, but Thomas was not there, and so he missed it and remained stuck at a physical level of faith wanting to probe wounds of the flesh. His invitation is not to touch, but to go beyond the physical level and open himself up to a communion with divine life. John never tells that he touched something. What we understand is that his relationship to Jesus was transformed. As part of the community, he finally experiences the risen Lord. This does not happen when he is absent. There in communion with the others, he is invited into the wounds. The breakthrough of this moment, the shift Thomas makes from the Jesus of his past to the Resurrected Christ whose presence is now within him is nothing short of being born again – being born in the Spirit. The world which sees with physical eyes only what is physical can no longer see Jesus after his death. But those whom he loves will see him because they have spiritual eyes but that cannot happen until He dies.

What all this eventually can awaken in us is the truth and realization that we are spiritual in nature, not just a physical presence on this earth which passes away. There is something about us that does and will last forever. The first stirrings of that truth call into question all of our pre occupation with our looks, with our earthly possessions, the values of our lives, what we do day in and day out, and why we do it. Then, it calls to question our mission, our purpose, and relationships. As physical beings, we know what it means to be with someone. As spiritual beings, we know what it means to be in someone as Jesus said more than once in John’s Gospel (Jn 14:10; 15:4 & 17:21). “I am in the Father, you in me, and I in you.”

Appreciating, living in, nurturing our spiritual selves and the spiritual communion we have with God and all creation is the breakthrough of faith which gives us our unique understanding of death This Easter Sunday is our day to celebrate the re-creation of life, but this time not the life and resurrection of Jesus Christ, but our own. There is a new form of presence. It is not waiting for us beyond the locked doors of death it is already in our midst.

April 15, 2006

Romans 6: 3-11 + Mark 16: 1-7

Eight verses tell the whole story in Mark’s typical style: quick, to the point, embracing the whole spectrum of human emotion from despair to fear from hesitation to joy. It takes Mark only four words to embrace the whole divine activity from abandonment to the fulfillment of Covenant promise freeing from sin everyone from Adam till today.

Four short words, easy to miss because we know the story: easy to miss because of the characters, easy to miss because of the intense emotion and the drama, easy to miss because they state a fact that is so obvious.

If we hear them this night with the dullness of twenty centuries, we shall miss the radical reversal of eternity they hold for us. If we hear them with the complacency and filter them with the casual way we relate to the Holy in this post-Christian Western world, we shall miss the explosive experience these words had on those women. That angelic proclamation in all its simplicity is what has kept us so busy for the past 90 minutes and kept us so focused these last forty days. Those words transformed the grief of those women and changed the whole reality of creation.

HE IS NOT HERE!

“Of course not.” we think. “We know that.” And so, we trivialize the power of the resurrection. But these words are not trivial. They may not be dismissed because we know the story. They are the story! The story is not just that there was an empty tomb, that the one crucified cannot to be found among the dead, nor that somehow a great stone was rolled back. These words will not be dismissed because heaven and earth were turned upside down by them, and nothing is the same ever again. These words say as much about us as they do about an empty tomb. They also say as much about God as every other word Mark has written before them.

It takes no degree in theology, no dogmatic apology, nor any kind of orthodox amplification to get the point. No stone was too big and no tomb too secure to hold or restrain the Messiah of God. Even the power of death cannot stop the purposes of God. Simply put, Christ who was crucified and was buried is not where the world expected him to stay. The message is simple and unmistakable: four words. HE IS NOT HERE.

With those words, we tell the whole story of what God has planned and is doing for us. It is nothing short of a new creation. Tonight we witness that new creation which like the first began in chaos and darkness. We shall see the water spring to life. Water that once threatened us is now water that will cleanse us. We have just proclaimed a new Adam who has risen by the breath of God’s Spirit. But we are not witnesses who stand to watch, we are witnesses who have been a part of it, for we are of this new creation. You who are soon to step into the waters of Baptism will rise into this new creation with hearts and lives made new by love; born again in Spirit and in Truth.

This is new creation. Should any come looking among the dead for those who have been born in this new creation, lived in it with faith, and died in it by baptism: the same will be said of them that was said of Christ: “They are not here.” “They have risen.”

April 14, 2006

Isaiah 52:13-53:12 + Hebrews 4:14-16, 5:7-9 + John 18:1-19:42

Pilot is the man of the day in John’s Passion. He has the power. He has the facts. He has a moment in life to make a decision, and he does. His decision is not simply about guilt or innocence. He makes that one, as you notice. He finds Jesus innocent; then, goes on with his life. We have no idea what his life was like after that decision. He fades away. Secular history does give us some clues that he fell out of favor, was removed from his distant and unimportant post in the Empire, and then he’s gone.

The decision he faced was not really about innocence or guilt. It was a decision between two Kingdoms, and the innocent man who stood before him offered him the choice. He made the choice, and that was it.

Each of the four Gospels touches in its own way this issue of Kingdom. Only John makes the point that this Kingdom Jesus preached is non-political. John has Jesus distinguish between the Roman and the Jewish notions of kingship: one is profoundly political, the other deeply religious. Only those who belong to the “truth” can understand in what sense Jesus has a kingdom and is a king. Pilot was not “of the truth.” In that sense, he become symbolic or this world. His choice is not simply his personal choice any longer.

It is a choice we shall make at some point in our lives.

With that thought, this day is not only about remembering the death of Jesus Christ, it is a day that puts before us a choice and calls into question the choices we make day in and day out.

Perhaps we could call this day “TRUTH FRIDAY” instead of “GOOD FRIDAY”; observing that it is the day that distinguishes those who are of the truth from those who are not of the truth.

Standing before this cross, we must choose which Kingdom is ours. “You cannot serve two masters.” He told us. If in faith we belong to the “Truth” we can then see in this defeat, this suffering, this death, the way to life, to peace, and to victory. But we cannot have it both ways. For those who belong to the truth, service out of love, forgiveness, and obedience to God’s Will is the only possible choice.

When we make it, the innocent will no longer be abandoned and left to suffer, power will give way to compassion, greed and the desire to consume, to look good, and be “successful” in the eyes of this earthly kingdom we give to lives of commitment, gratitude, and love.

Then the veil will once again be torn in two, but this time, not the veil of some earthly temple, but the veil that hides the presence of the Kingdom of God, and finally, Pilot’s choice will be undone, and the choice of Jesus will at last complete his work on earth.

We adore you, O Christ, and we Bless You. For by your Holy Cross, you have redeemed the world!

April 13, 2006

Exodus 12:1-8, 11-14; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-15

Was that conversation with Peter really about washing feet? I don’t think so.I think it was about relationship, about intimacy. Peter wanted to make it about washing, at least at first. Then, slow to catch on as usual, he got it. His feet were not dirty. It was not about washing. It was about the two of them: their love, their relationship. The whole action was not about dirty feet. It was an invitation to intimacy.

That towel and that basin were not taken up by the usual servant who would never have looked at them, would have taken no time to see who it was, who was expected and would have been hired for the service as a typical sign of hospitality. This was the host. Something different is going on here.

In asking them to bear their feet to him he asks them to be vulnerable, like intimate friends. He asks them to let him kneel before him and touch them perhaps in a way they have never been touched before. The disciples are being invited into intimacy with the One who loved them so much he would lay down his life for them.

Brothers and Sisters, it is not only those apostles who are invited into this intimacy. “You also ought to wash one another’s feet.” He says to them. He would have us look at each other, notice each other, touch each other deeply, emotionally, spiritually, be bound up with each other perhaps in a way never known before. It is something new, and perhaps slightly uncomfortable. Like Peter, we might at first object, but now not because we miss the point; but now because we are afraid and sometimes want to keep our secrets, hide our shame, and avoid the needs of another. None the less, the invitation still stands. We are asked to become a people who love and care for each other. We are asked to become vulnerable to each other; to be willing to wash each other’s feet, to risk pride, position, power, live, everything for each other. But he took a towel and a basin.

Christ calls us to do the same. He calls us also to take bread and bless it and break it and eat it together. He calls us to take the cup of wine, give thanks for it and drink it. What is more intimate than drinking from the same cup? Yet, it is not only about bread and wine, just as the washing of the feet was not about washing up. It is about remembering who died for us, that we might live for him. It is about sharing in his life as he shares in out life, all of it, even the worse of it.

Again, it is about intimacy: coming to this table. It is about coming into intimacy with the God who has promised to be really present among us, blessing us, strengthening us, giving us life abundant and eternal. No random gathering of strangers here. When we share the holy food of this table, we are invited into the intimate community of friends who love and care for each other: no longer strangers, no longer servants, but friends. It is the covenant of friendship and love.

It is the covenant of service and care. How could we ever miss or skip the gift and the promise we are given here? Come, let us adore. Come, let us give thanks.

Come, let us rise to this new life.

April 9, 2006 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Mark 11:1-10 + Isaiah 50: 4-7 + Philippians 2: 6-11 + Mark 14:1 – 15:47

Peter, James, and John: two great apostles privileged to share in the great moments and swell with pride and ambition, promise and pleasure are with us today. They climb the mountain in the company of Jesus and witness the transfigured Christ wanting to build tents and stay there in his company. What promise there is in such a one! They arrange for and joyfully share in the meal of Passover with a whole city clamoring to see their friend and their leader. They broke bread with him and drank from the cup as a sign and promise of unity forever. When they need him for anything, food, healing, instruction, shelter, company, respect; he is there for them.

And then he says to them: “Keep watch with me.” They sleep! When his company may bring danger or suffering, they can’t be found. But this day and this Gospel are not only about us as much as we may see ourselves in them. This day and this Gospel does raise questions about us, but also finally provides answers about Jesus.

There are a lot of people in this Gospel, and each of them might attract our attention. But of all, Simon is worthy of the greatest attention. Unable to bear the weight of the cross on his own, Jesus needed help, the help of a stranger to complete the mission. The hard, painful work of salvation is a work in which God chooses to depend on human beings. With all God’s glory and power, God still chooses human participation and help. God needs us to proclaim and live the Good News. Every time we break out of our false need for self-sufficiency and dare to ask for help, a new community emerges, a fellowship of the helped and the helper, the weak and the strong. This is a true community of hope for a broken world.

The question for us is whether we can step out of the crowd which seems so intent on taking care of itself first and lift our share of the cross.  The question about Jesus gets answered in this Gospel. Who is this? What is he doing? What is this suffering all about?

Not until the moment of his being “lifted up” is he clearly and unmistakably the Son of God, Savior. If Jesus, in whom we believe and whom we have chosen to follow is fully himself only in suffering and death, then that is the very place where we shall find ourselves.

Think of those who have shown themselves faithful and proven their Christian identity in suffering. Ancient ones, martyrs who in their suffering and death bore witness to Christ. Think of John Paul II whose sufferings and illness made him an even more worthy and more credible as a messenger of the Gospel. Anyone who has suffered greatly knows the transforming power of that suffering. They discover as Jesus did their truest selves.

What is suffering for? It is for discovery. Why did Jesus suffer? To discover and reveal who he is: to reveal that God is found in suffering and present to those who suffer. God’s revelation in human history is not fulfilled in signs of power and divine greatness but in the humiliation of the divine being in Jesus’ death on the cross. It is the crucified Jesus who is the Son of God, not some wandering wonderworker. It is the crucified Jesus who is the Son of God, and not until then does the world in the words of a centurion recognize and affirm who this is. In that discovery anyone who bears pain and suffering also discovers Jesus,

and in uniting ourselves to his suffering we shall become not just our truest self but a part of redemption, begun by Jesus

continued in us until he comes again.

April 2, 2006 At Saint Mark Church in Norman, OK

Jeremiah 31:31-34 + Hebrews 5:7-9 + John 12:20-33

Noah, Abraham, Moses, and finally Jeremiah have led us to the threshold of the week we call “Holy.” It is the week of Covenant. The week of Promise. It is the week that determines and tests our identity, our true communion, and bears witness to the covenant we have with God and the promise upon which it rests. In the covenant with Noah the goodness of all creation is affirmed, and the all-embracing love of a Creator-God is expressed in a promise fulfilled as the “dry land appeared.” The covenant with Abraham required a human response: obedience. The covenant with Moses required obedience to the law. The covenant Jeremiah promises is written on human hearts, not tablets of stone.

In its largest sweep, the covenant affirms that the God who created the cosmos has made an abiding commitment of fidelity to a chosen people. This commitment is grounded in nothing other than God’s resolve to be in the relationship. This very desire of God; this initiative of God makes us a holy people, the beloved people of God. The prophet who speaks in our midst today is not some voice from the past.

Jeremiah stands in the midst of this assembly speaking to us and raising a question about trust, because trust is an essential element of any covenant.

The Israelites to whom he speaks having finally gotten to the Promised Land had shifted their trust in the God who led them there to their own political alliances.

Their story is all too familiar and embarrassingly like our own. We Catholics have made it to the “promised land” of power, influence, and wealth, and we too have shifted our trust to our own clever capacity and productivity. Trust in God is not so much a way of life for us as it is an ideology. It is a nice pious thought that has little to do with how we behave. We pay our taxes, perhaps with some grumbling,

but a tithe to the church is for the Protestants. If Father even mentions money once a year or less, “that’s all he ever talks about.” We priests know that we can talk about sex, justice, gossip, or anger all day long, but don’t talk about money. That’s too sacred, too personal, and too private. We wouldn’t think of missing work lest we lose our jobs, but coming to church is a matter of convenience. We get to work on time if our pay depends on it and we would be very cautious about leaving work early, but we casually stroll in and out of here as though it made no difference whatsoever.

Covenant is what we are about. It is what define and identifies who we are. It is the very structure and shape of our identity with God, and it is the way through which God has chosen to relate to us.

In one week, the church will celebrate, renew, and initiate people into the Covenant: the last and final, full and complete Covenant of all human history. The Gospel today speaks of planting with the metaphor of seeds. Yet what John is expressing is the truth that God in Jesus Christ has planted himself among us. “Where I am, my servants will be.” says Jesus. The consequence of these words is that we are to plant ourselves in the community of believers, and that Christ is to be found in that assembly.

Membership in the church is not like joining the “Y”. You belong to the “Y” because you pay your membership fee and carry a card. You don’t ever have to show up. You belong to the church because you plant yourself in the assembly when it gathers. The relationship we have with God is expressed, lived, and celebrated in the relationship we have with each other every weekend in this place around this table, sharing the broken body and poured our blood of Christ.

But we’ve made it to the “promised land.” Like the Israelites who survived on the manna in the desert, what happens here doesn’t seem like enough. But the mystery of our God and that God’s hunger for us goes on. The Covenant he would have with us is still an option, is still extended, is still to be found and lived in Jesus Christ whose presence is the Eucharist. Our witness to that presence is our own presence, nothing else will do. The crucified Christ is not an abstraction, but the ultimate revelation of how far love will go, what measure of rejection and pain it will endure, how much selfishness and betrayal it will withstand. The unconditional love of God, fully expressed in Jesus being nailed to a cross does not flinch at our perversity or turn way for our indifference and our sin. This is the essence of the covenant established with us through Christ Jesus. Absence from the profound mystery celebrated in the three days of Holy Week we have come to call Triduum raises deep and profoundly serious question about our identity. Three hours of agony on a cross freely given, and we find it hard to give three nights in church in his memory. People, listen to the prophet.