Homily: 5th Sunday of Easter - Year C

Readings: Acts 14:21-27; Ps 145; Rev 21:1-5; Jn 13:31-35

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Early in the morning, while it’s still dark, I often take a fast walk through our extended neighborhood. Sometimes I pray the Rosary as I walk. On one of those mornings, a few months ago, as I passed a house on a nearby street, I heard the front door slam, followed by a man’s voice shouting a few choice words that I’ll not repeat here. The man who shouted jumped into his golf cart and backed out of his driveway almost running into me. It was dark. He wasn’t looking, so I doubt he even saw me. He then drove off at full speed…in a golf cart, 20 miles per hour

Now, I didn’t know him. And I certainly don’t know what took place in that house that made him so angry that he left in such a hurry, driving off into the morning darkness. But because it was early on a Friday morning, I was praying the Sorrowful Mysteries...

I don’t know, it must have been the Sorrowful Mysteries, but there I was on a street in The Villages, and my aging brain carried me off to Jerusalem. I took me to John’s Gospel, to the 13^th chapter, to the passage we just heard, when Judas left the upper room, when he left Jesus and the others. Did he leave muttering, swearing, slamming doors…probably not. We don’t know. John doesn’t tell us.

But John does tell us “Satan had entered him.”

Knowing this, Jesus looked at Judas and said: “What you are going to do, do quickly.”

John also tells us, “…it was night.”

Where did Judas go so quickly that night? Out into the darkness, into the world that had rejected Jesus, the world that wanted Him dead. Judas left Jesus and he left the Apostles. In essence he left and rejected the dual institution of the priesthood and the Eucharistic Church…for that’s what took place at that Last Supper. Yes, Judas ran into the darkness away from the Jesus, the Light of the world, away from the Church.

Pope Leo XIV, our new pope, celebrated his first Mass to a congregation of cardinals. And in his homily, he spoke about the world, and how it perceives Christians, how it perceives our faith:

“…today,” he said, “there are many settings in which the Christian faith is considered absurd, meant for the weak and unintelligent...where other securities are preferred, like technology, money, success, power, or pleasure.”

Pope Leo went on, “…where it is not easy to preach the Gospel and bear witness to its truth, where believers are mocked, opposed, despised or at best tolerated and pitied…

“A lack of faith is often tragically accompanied by the loss of meaning in life, the neglect of mercy, appalling violations of human dignity, the crisis of the family and so many other wounds that afflict our society.”

As I listened to his words, I realized they were timeless, and in truth addressed what the Church has faced for 2,000 years.

When we return to that 13^th chapter of John’s Gospel, Jesus really teaches us how to live the Christian life, how to live it then and today. He’d just washed the feet of the Apostles, giving us an example of humility and service, one that even symbolized His giving His life for us on the Cross. But He washed all their feet, including the feet of Judas whom He knew would soon betray Him. Then Jesus did more. He dipped a morsel of bread into His dish and offered it to Judas. Another sign of His love.

John began that 13^th chapter with the words:

“…having loved His own who were in the world, He loved them to the end.”

“To the end.” What does it mean?

To the Cross? Is that what it means? To Jesus’ death?

Or is it something beyond that? As one theologian told me, to the fulfillment of God’s purpose, the salvation of humanity. Is that what is means?

Or perhaps, when John says, “He loved them to the end” it’s more personal…

The washing of feet, the dipping of the morsel of bread – to remind us of the extent, the very depth of His love for every person…not just His love for Judas, but His love for each one of us. Perhaps it meant:

...that Jesus loved Judas, who would betray Him;

…that He loved Peter who would deny Him three times;

…that He loved all of them gathered there, all of them who would abandon Him.

Yes, I think that’s what it’s all about.

It’s about loving the Apostles who let fear smother their faith.

It’s about loving the soldiers of an empire, men who knew nothing of Jesus, and yet mocked Him, flogged Him, nailed Him to a Cross.

It’s about loving the Jewish leaders who saw Him as a threat and wanted Him dead.

And Jesus’ response to it all?

“Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” [Lk 23:34]

Judas left Him. Walked into the night, to meet with those who despised Jesus, who thought He was an absurdity…And after Judas left, what did Jesus do?

He looked to the Cross, the means of redemption, and told the eleven:

“Now is the Son of Man glorified, and God is glorified in him.”

Jesus speaks here of the crucifixion, an ugly, horrific agony of pain, of torn flesh and death. Adding to it…the mocking, the rejection, the betrayal, the denial, the abandonment.

But in all that darkness, Jesus tells us to behold the glory of God, to understand who God truly is. We can do this because this redemptive act is the manifestation of God’s love for us. For as John reminds us twice in His 1^st Letter: “God is love.”

Jesus continues:

“I give you a new commandment…As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.”

Oh, yes, we are called to “Love your neighbor as yourself” but Jesus adds something new. We are called to love “As I have loved you…” – to love as Jesus loves, to love each other as God loves.

You see, sisters and brothers, it’s also about you and me. And as we live our busy lives, how often do we think of God’s sacrificial love for us? As we encounter all the garbage, you know, the petty betrayals, the snide remarks, the personal attacks, the lies…as we plan our responses to those responsible, how often do we stop and recall…

“As I have loved you, so you also should love one another.”

At the end of Mass, I will do one of those deacon things, the dismissal, and send you all into the world. But why are we sent? Simply to glorify God in all we do. As Pope Leo reminds us, to carry the Light of Christ into a world shrouded in too much darkness. Yes, we belong to the Light, the Light of Christ, which the darkness can never overcome.

Like Paul and Barnabas in our first reading, we’re sent to do something new, to take the Good News to others, to be true disciples of Jesus. And there will be hardships, and much that will hurt us. But others will know, despite themselves, that we are called by Christ.

Because Jesus gave us His new commandment:

“This is how all will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

It’s not so much what we say, it’s what we do; it’s what we are!

At its core, the world hasn’t changed much over the millennia of human history – the same sins, hatreds, violence, lies – yes, the same darkness.

But then, Christ comes and offers us newness beyond our imagining. John tells us what he saw – “a new heaven and a new earth” – and Christ proclaims from the throne:

“Behold, I make all things new!”

Now, I can’t speak for you, but I’m getting old, so this newness God offers us is very attractive.

Indeed, God’s promises, proclaimed in our second reading from Revelation, tell of wondrous new things, eternally new things that never get old. Only God can that. Yes, God has a lot of newness in store for us.

We need only turn to Him in the sacraments, repent and receive forgiveness, taste His Eucharistic Presence, and believe and live the Gospel.

Such a deal? There’s a lot of talk about wheeling and dealing these days, but all that is really nothing like the good deal God offers each one of us.

Praise God!

Homily: Tuesday of Holy Week

Readings: Is 49:1-6; Ps 71:1-2, 3-4a, 5ab-6ab, 15 and 17; Jn 13:21-33, 36-38

A few years ago, I read a remarkable novel by Gene Wolfe about a soldier, a mercenary who fought for the Persians during the Greek-Persian Wars in the fifth century before Christ. 

What made it so interesting is that our hero suffered a head wound that left him with almost no short-term memory. By the end of each day, he’d forgotten everything that happened the day before. And so he kept a diary on a scroll, keeping track of people, events, conversations. Each day he read the scroll, or at least parts of it.

But it really didn’t help him very much, because so much of life is defined by relationships with others. For him, all others were strangers, even those who’d normally be considered close friends. Eventually he saw his affliction as a kind of blessing, and memory as a kind of curse. Lacking memory all became new and interesting. Like a child, he appreciated the world as it unfolded before his eyes.

Anyway, I couldn’t help but think of this book as I reread John’s Gospel the other day. We’ve heard or read the Gospel story so often that the wonder of it all can be lost. Thanks to our memories, we know what will happen next, and this can cause us to ignore that which is most meaningful. This time, as I read John, I tried to read it as if for the first time, as if I were one of the disciples, living these events without the benefit of hindsight.

What struck me was how reasonable the disciples seemed in their on-again, off-again belief. Before I’d always been exasperated with them and found myself saying, “Oh, c’mon guys, how stupid can you be? Haven’t you figured out who Jesus is?” But now, I could even empathize with the Pharisees.

I found myself viewing the Gospel from a human point of view, a perspective that also caused me to see both Peter and Judas differently. Both men were put to the test, weren’t they? And both failed miserably.

Judas Departs

And yet, when we look at them, we can’t help but notice the difference. Judas deliberately betrayed his Master. We can’t fully grasp his motives, but from all indications it was a cold and calculated act. 

But Peter…Peter acted impulsively, out of human weakness and cowardice. He neither intended, nor expected to do what he did. And in a moment of weakness, Peter’s bravado crumbled. He denied His Lord with an oath and a curse.

Peter's Betrayal

Peter seems to be one of those guileless people whose words mirrored his thoughts, who always spoke with his heart, even though he would ultimately betray those words because of a weak will. Peter vows to die for Jesus. It’s a vow he will break that very night, but one he will ultimately keep, years later.

But Judas…he makes no vow that night, but in his treachery, he brings about Jesus' death, a death that redeems us. John tells us Satan entered into Judas when he rejected Jesus and departed to complete his deadly errand.

That’s what Satan can do, brothers and sisters, but only if we let him. He can twist love and turn it into hate. He can turn holiness into pride, discipline into cruelty, affection into complacency, trust into despair.

Peter, though, even in his sinfulness, rejected Satan and continued to trust in Jesus. He continued to trust in our loving, forgiving God. While Judas, in his sinfulness, fell into despair, a despair that denies forgiveness, a despair that denies love, a despair that rips any vestige of hope from the heart.

Brothers and sisters, we know we’re all sinners. We all betrayers of sorts. But I like to think you and I are more like Peter, sinners who still love the Lord, and who never forget how much He loves us, and how willing He is to forgive us, again and again.

Homily: Monday of Holy Week

Readings: Is 42:1-7; Ps 27; Jn 12:1-11
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Mark Helprin is perhaps my favorite modern novelist, a writer whose stories not only plumb the depths of the human condition, but also soar to the heights of the divine image within humanity.

Page from the Daianu

This week I happened to read one of his essays in which Helprin, a Jew, mentions a song that is a part of the Passover service. The song, called "Daianu," means "sufficient" or "it was enough for us." In the song God is thanked for His gifts, but as the song progresses, each verse eliminates these gifts until only the gift of life itself is left. At the end we're confronted only by the existence of God; and this is enough. Yes, God's existence is sufficient for us.

Helprin states that, "If one thinks that way, one can pass any test." Amen.

As I read those words the other evening my thoughts turned to today's Gospel passage, an incident in which we encounter two very different people, two very different attitudes about God, about Jesus Christ, about life itself. These two - Mary of Bethany and Judas - offer us a remarkable contrast.

The timing, of course, is crucial, for it takes place six days before the Passover, six days before Jesus sacrifices His life for us on the Cross at Calvary, six days before His lifeless body is placed in the tomb.

And so Mary, in the house of her brother, Lazarus, kneels before her Savior and pours expensive perfumed unguent all over the feet of Jesus, filling the house with its fragrance. She then dries His feet with her hair - all done, as Jesus reminds us, in anticipation of His burial.

Mary says nothing, but in her actions we can hear the words of today's Psalm:

"The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom should I fear?" [Ps 27:1]

For Mary, just the presence of her Savior is sufficient, and it calls her to worship Him fearlessly and lavishly. Yes, His presence is more than enough for Mary.

Indeed, this is the only anointing Jesus' body will receive; for a week later, on that Resurrection morning, the women who carry their oils to His tomb will find it empty.

But the Gospel passage doesn't stop there, does it? Another is present: Judas Iscariot. He confronts and criticizes Mary for her extravagance. Like all materialists, Judas is spiritually blind, and in a fit of sheer hypocrisy, asks aloud:

"Why was this oil not sold for three hundred days' wages and given to the poor?" [Jn 12:5]

This, John tells us, comes from a man who would have stolen the funds for his own use. Is it any surprise that Judas will trade the life of Jesus for a handful of silver coins?

Jesus responds to Judas by defending Mary. For Jesus, Mary's action is nothing less than a sign of her great love for Him. But then He adds:

"You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have me" [Jn 12:8].

This is no derisive comment by Jesus. He's not telling us to ignore the poor. On the contrary, He simply reminds us that only those who with a deep love for God can extend that love to the poor and to all those in need. 

Sadly, Judas does not understand this. Indeed, he is already forming his plan, and through his treachery will bring about Jesus' death. Mary anoints Jesus for His burial, a burial that will be brought about by the betrayal of the apostle. The betrayal is deliberate. We don't really know his motives, but it was still a cold and calculated act.

Later John tells us that Satan entered into Judas when he rejected Jesus. That's what Satan does, brothers and sisters, but only if we let him. He twists love and turns it into hate. He turns holiness into pride, discipline into cruelty, affection into complacency, trust into despair.

And, believe me, Satan is active in our world today, a world filled with threats that lead so many to fear, and from fear to despair. But fear is nothing but the absence of faith.

If you and I, like the Jew at Passover, or like Mary at the feet of Jesus, if we can express our thankfulness for God's gift of life, for the simple fact of His loving, forgiving existence, then "we can pass any test."

Oh, yes, brothers and sisters, we are all sinners. We all betray the Lord. But what kind of betrayers, what kind of sinners are we? Are we like Mary who turns to her merciful Lord in abundant love or are we like Judas who can only despair, only hate himself and the One who loves him?
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Mark Helprin, "Falling into Eternity", First Things, March 2017; p.23

Homily: Wednesday of Holy Week

Readings Is 50:4-9a; Ps 69; Mt 26:14-25

Have you ever been betrayed? Betrayal’s a horrible, destructive thing, isn’t it? It hits at the very core of our humanity, and jeopardizes those essential relationships based on trust and love.

And yet look how Jesus handled betrayal. Even though He was fully aware of Judas’ plans, He invited His betrayer to recline and dine with Him. And He questions Judas as if He were trying to force him to admit what he planned. Would this lead Judas to confront his sin and be repelled by its inherent evil? We simply don’t know. And neither do we know why Judas betrayed Jesus. Was it greed, impatience, disillusionment, even hatred? We don’t know for certain. But whatever the reason, it all boiled down to Judas being unable to accept Jesus as He is.

Notice how Judas responded to Jesus. He called Him, “Rabbi,” while the apostles, each in turn, called Jesus, “Lord.” What a difference! Sin is so much easier when we distort and limit our understanding of who Jesus is. This is our great temptation as Christians: to create a Jesus in our own image.

It’s easy to do. Just look in the mirror and say, “Hi, Jesus!” And then, whatever I do or say, well…that’s not me. That’s Jesus talking, that’s God talking. It sure makes things easier when we need only look to ourselves for all the answers.

In Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, one of the brothers, Ivan, is visited by Satan who persuades him that with the death of God “everything is permitted.” The devil isn’t suggesting here that the world will slide into the chaos of anarchy – not at all – for the world can be very “civilized” while still believing in nothing.

No Satan means that once we eliminate God from our lives, from our society, from our civilization, then nothing is absolute, nothing is always wrong. Once we remove God from the picture, we fall prey to what Pope Benedict calls “the dictatorship of relativism” under which the clear distinctions between what is morally right and wrong dissolve into a kind of amoral putty that we can form into whatever shape we like.

Yes, once we believe that God is no longer in charge…well, someone has to take control. And that’s when men try to usurp God’s responsibilities for defining the moral order. Once we do that, we need only reshape the putty, forming acceptable reasons to do and to believe absolutely anything.

This, I suspect, was Judas’ sin. He wanted Jesus to change; he wanted God, the unchangeable One, to reshape Himself to become just like Judas. But, of course, Jesus isn’t about to change, for His entire mission is the fulfillment of the Father’s will, the Father’s plan.

Like Satan, Judas saw Jesus’ ministry as a failure, and decided that he would have to take charge. But poor Judas, and those among us today who are like him, have it all backwards; for it’s not God who must change; it’s we who must let ourselves be changed by Him.

As we enter this holiest time of our liturgical year, let’s make that our prayer, to allow ourselves to be changed by God’s love, by the Good News of His Son’s redemptive act. For when we abandon ourselves to God’s holy will, He will send His Spirit to lead us and guide us, to deliver us from evil, the evil of betrayal that we call sin.

Homily: Wednesday of Holy Week

Readings Is 50:4-9a; Ps 69; Mt 26:14-25

John Anthony Walker – You might not remember the name, but in 1985 he was arrested by the FBI. His crime? For almost 20 years he spied for the Soviet Union. Walker was a chief warrant office in the US Navy, a communications officer who had access to some of our military’s most classified information. And he gave it all to the Soviets, over a million documents.

I didn’t know him, but a close friend of mine did. In fact, they worked together for two years. When Walker was arrested my friend was flabbergasted. “I didn’t like the man,” he told me later, “but I never imaged he’d betray his country. Almost as bad was the sense of personal betrayal I felt.”

Betrayal really is a horrible thing, isn’t it? It’s so destructive. It hits at the very core of our humanity, where we establish and maintain those essential relationships based on trust and love. For one who’s been betrayed, it can undermine their willingness or ability to trust others.

And yet look how Jesus handled betrayal. Even though He knew Judas’s plans, He invited His betrayer to recline and dine with Him. It’s as if He were trying to prevent Judas’ betrayal by questioning him and forcing him to admit what he planned to do.

Was Jesus hoping that Judas, by openly admitting what he intended to do, would confront it and be repelled by its inherent evil? After all, Jesus certainly did much to win Peter back after his three-time denial. Wouldn’t He have tried to do the same for Judas?

We really don’t know why Judas betrayed Jesus. Was it greed, disillusionment, hatred, impatience? We don’t know. But whatever the reason, it all boiled down to Judas being unable to accept Jesus as He is.

Notice how Judas responded to Jesus. He called Him, “Rabbi,” while the apostles, each in turn, called Jesus, “Lord.” And that’s the difference! Sin is so much easier when we distort and limit our understanding of who Jesus is. Unable to accept the real Jesus, Judas leaves to carry out his betrayal.

This is the Christian’s great temptation: to create a Jesus in our own image. It’s easy to do. Just look in the mirror and say, “Hi, Jesus!” And from then on, whatever I do, or think, or say, well…that’s not me, that’s Jesus talking, that’s God talking. It sure makes things a lot easier when we need only look to ourselves for all the answers.

This, I suspect, was Judas’ sin. He wanted Jesus to change, to be like him. He wanted to use God for his own purposes. But poor Judas got it all backwards -- for it’s not God who must change; it’s we who must let ourselves be changed by Him.

As we enter this holiest time of our liturgical year, let’s make that our prayer, to allow ourselves to be changed by God’s love, by the Good News of His Son’s redemptive act. For when we abandon ourselves to God’s holy will, He will send His Spirit to lead us and guide us, to deliver us from evil, the evil of betrayal that we call sin.