Fr. Rick Spicer

This evening with the Mass of the Lord’s Supper, the curtain rises on Christianity’s greatest drama, the Triduum. For the next three days, Catholics around the world will be immersed in a three act drama not even Shakespeare could surpass.  Unfortunately, few see the events of these three days as one story; rather many see this for the most part as separate and distinct stories.  Worse yet, they are observed through the lens of history as something from the ancient past that has little or nothing to do with us in the 21st century.

Since the readings began with the Exodus account of the first Passover, listing the requisites for its ritual Seder meal, we might be wise to take a page from our Israelite-Jewish ancestors when approaching our own sacred rites.  They believe that in some mystical manner all Jews, past, present and future, are somehow present at that key episode in their history. Everything is spoken of in the present tense.  God’s interaction with them is not something that took place in the distant past, but something that continues to take place right here and now.

How differently might we react to the momentous events of the next 72 hours if we saw ourselves as taking part in them? Granted, it could take some time to acclimate ourselves to a new mindset. Still, we could try. That is what those of us who traveled to the Holy Land endeavored to do as we stood in the upper room envisioning this meal, walked the Via Dolorosa, stood in the courtyard at Galincantu with Peter as he denied Jesus three times, knelt in the church of the Holy sepulcher as though we were at the foot of the cross after celebrating Mass at the Lord’s tomb. 

If we see ourselves as being present at the Last Supper, Jesus is washing our feet, challenging us firsthand to be people of service just as he was to his disciples. “I have given you a model to follow, so that as I have done for you, you should also do.” He is speaking to all generations of believers, past, present, and future, not just the apostles.

He is also instituting the incomparable gift of the Eucharist, as Paul tells us long before the gospels were written, before our eyes.  “This cup is the new covenant of my blood. Do this as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.” For each time you do, you proclaim the Lord’s death until he comes. Is this a gift we are anxious to accept or inclined to pass up?

We are very much aware by watching the look in his eyes, the expression on his face, the tone of his voice that this is no ordinary meal or gift, this is no ordinary gathering. Something is up. We don’t yet know what, but it doesn’t seem to bode well. We have to allow the drama to unfold later after we leave the upper room.  We are urged to spend time in the garden with him in prayer as his disciples did, then continue the journey with him as he carried the cross along the Via Dolorosa to the place of the skull.  Ultimately, we will witness the climax of this great drama when the light of the Easter Candle will dispel the darkness of sin in our midst. For me, that is one of the most exciting moments of year, one that sums up all that this story is all about. Christ is our light. There is no other way to make our way to the Promised Land, following in the footsteps of our ancestors.

Years ago, Walter Cronkite, the renowned news anchor for CBS, hosted a TV series called You Are There. Try that from now until Easter morning. See if it doesn’t change the way these events unfold for you.  While most of you did not have the opportunity firsthand to literally journey through the Holy Land, you can if you choose to place yourself in this awesome drama that will be unfolding before us.
 

Whenever we go on trips, most of us pick up souvenirs to remember the places we visit. Like others in our group, I did not come back empty handed from the Holy Land. Along with the cold that I picked up flying back from Cairo, I picked up a Jerusalem cross made of olive wood, a Coptic cross made of camel bone, a yarmulke, a Jewish prayer shawl, and a camel hair carpet depicting the tree of life.

Today, each of us received a souvenir of Holy Week, a simple yet powerful reminder of a trip we have just begun. Our souvenir is a palm branch. (I was tempted to bring one home from Jerusalem but the stem was prickly, so I decided that wasn’t too practical.) Take your blessed branch home and keep it as a reminder of the trip that we have just begun.

From the Mount of Olives near Bethany where he mounted a colt and rode into the city amid cries, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord,” we ventured to the upper room where Jesus shared his last meal with the apostles, a meal that has been celebrated many times since all over the world, a meal we celebrate at every Mass.  We then trekked back to the Mount of Olives where Jesus prayed fervently and the disciples slept.

After he was arrested, we find ourselves in the high priest’s courtyard where Peter denied him three times before hearing the cock crow. How often have we denied Jesus in the past year? Then we witnessed his trial before Pilate in a place called Antonia’s fortress and later watched be mocked by Herod.  Walking the Via Dolorosa in the early morning hours in the snow to the Church of the Holy Sepulcher will remain an unforgettable experience. My feet were cold and wet but my discomfort paled compared to what Jesus endured for us. Before long, we were at the Place of the Skull where they crucified him and divided his garments.

I hope your palm branch will remind you of what we have seen and heard from the words of praises that greeted Jesus as he came into the city to his dying words, “Father, into your hands, I commend my spirit,” to the words spoken by the centurion, “This man was innocent beyond doubt.”

Don’t discard your branch when you get home; save it as a precious souvenir of the passion and death of Jesus. Treat this branch with reverence, mounting it, perhaps, behind a crucifix as a reminder that Jesus is our king and savior.

These palm branches are more than a simple souvenir of a distant event; they are also an invitation to recount our salvation history during the holiest week of the year.

Lent ends at sundown this Thursday. Then the Triduum begins, the three most sacred days of the year. We begin at 7 with a recollection of the Last Supper on Holy Thursday. After Mass, I urge you to spend time in prayer adoring the Blessed Sacrament anytime before midnight. On Good Friday, our celebration resumes at 7 with the Passion of the Lord according to John and the veneration of the cross.

The Triduum concludes on Holy Saturday at the Easter Vigil when we recall our history of salvation. We will gather at a fire at 9 in the evening, a visual reminder that Christ, our light, has risen from the dead. On that night, we will welcome those adults who have been preparing to join our Church. 

A week from today, your palm branch will be more than just a yellowed souvenir of this day; it will a symbol to display proudly in your home as a reminder that someday you too will rise from the dead and feast with Jesus at the heavenly banquet.

From his days as a football player to his legendary career in sports casting, Pat Summerall loved being the last guy in the bar, telling the best stories and having a grand time. But the price became too steep: his trademark smooth announcing style slipped away, his memory lapsed, and relationships with both family and friends became severely strained.

Finally, when he was 62, a circle of friends “intervened” and convinced him to go to the Betty Ford Center for treatment. The worst part of the treatment, Mr. Summerall remembers was admitting his dependency on alcohol. “I sat at meetings where you have to introduce yourself and say your problem,” he recalls. “Some people never got the courage to say it. It was tough to say, ‘I’m Pat and I’m an alcoholic.”

“After a while I became more aware of what alcohol did to me and I wanted to live a hell of lot longer.” In due time, he came to realize that the person he was before doesn’t work. What finally convinced Mr. Summerall to get help for his drinking was the letter he received from his daughter. She said, “I’d always been proud that we had the same last name, but now I can’t say that.”

Mr. Summerall’s story isn’t so unusual. Every day people who belong to AA gather to share their stories. Most introduce themselves by admitting who they are.  While some realize that on their own, many do not until they are confronted by those who cared about them.

In his encounter with the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well, Jesus confronts her sinfulness when she admits that she has no husband. “You are right in saying, ‘I do not have a husband.’ For you have had five husbands, and the one you have now is not your husband.”  Compelled to face up to her past choices and values, she realizes her need for God.

The Samaritans viewed themselves as being religious but they were influenced by the idolatry of their neighbors so they didn’t know the true God, much less where or how to worship him. In this encounter, Jesus reveals the truth not only to the woman but to her neighbors as well. Notice how the community of Samaritans comes to faith while the disciples missed the point that ultimately only God can quench our thirst and satisfy our hunger.

Around the world many adults, recognizing their need for God, are preparing to be baptized or come into full communion with the Church at Easter. This weekend they are going through the first of three scrutinies. The very word, scrutiny, suggests a close examination on our part to see if they are ready or worthy to join our ranks.  Actually they are testing themselves. “Am I ready to become a Christian?”

In defining this rite, the Church says that “mature catechumens should have the intention of arriving at an intimate knowledge of Christ and his Church, and they are expected to progress in sincere self-knowledge, in a serious appraisal of self, and in true penance.” For those of us who have been sitting in the pews for years, we might wonder well we could measure up to them.

This being Lent we should consider a serious appraisal of self as well.  I suspect many of us are afraid to look in the mirror and see ourselves as we really are.  Yet to be reborn in the life of Christ begins with confronting our own lives as they are and seeing our need for such rebirth. Lent is nearly half over yet how have we dealt with those moral choices which can potentially destroy our lives?

We have to take responsibility for our sins. Until we do, we can be easily duped, blindsided, lured into thinking that our wrongdoing isn’t so wrong, after all. Just as the alcoholic may not see the danger in a single drink, we may not see the harm in a single sin. Yet that single sin when multiplied can destroy our relationships with family, friends and God. Unless we confront our sinful nature, we cannot experience a close relationship with God who yearns so much to share with us his gifts of forgiveness, reconciliation and rebirth.

We confess to God communally at the start of Mass that we have sinned, yet few of us are willing to go the extra step and personally admit our wrongdoing to another person. It isn’t easy to say to a priest, “I have sinned,” yet the sacrament of reconciliation is a vital step toward achieving peace of mind and a fuller relationship with God.

Renowned Catholic evangelist, Matthew Kelly, views this sacrament as one of the seven pillars of our faith, yet one our culture sees no need for and sadly that is how many Catholics feel as well. When we avoid this sacrament, he cautions, we risk creating God in our image, forgetting that we are created in the image of God, “the divine psychologist.” Kelly likened the sacrament to a car wash. Don’t we feel good whenever we take time to wash the grime off our cars?

Paul promises that faith brings us hope and yet how often have we given up on what our Church faith has to offer?  This time will we trust God to give us sinners the fullness of new life? That move is up to us.

A very overweight man decided that he had to shed a few pounds so he decided to go on a diet. He changed his usual commute to work so that he would avoid passing his favorite bakery. One morning, however, he arrived at work carrying a large, sugar-coated, calorie-loaded coffee cake.

Everyone in the office chided him for bringing such a tempting snack to work but the overweight man smiled and said, “What could I do? You see, by force of habit, I drove by the bakery this morning and saw this luscious cake in the window. So I prayed, “Lord, if you really want me to have one of those delicious coffee cakes, let me find a parking space right in front of the bakery. And sure enough, on the ninth time around the block, there it was!”

Had I been fasting for forty days, maybe I would have been tempted to do the same thing! Temptation is as a much a part of life as breathing, eating and sleeping. Temptations come in so many shapes and sizes. Some are downright blatant; others are quite subtle and even deceptive.

Today we hear how the devil tried to use his power to tempt Jesus, first with sensual pleasure, then worldly recognition, and finally, despair.  In each case, Jesus withstood the devil’s efforts to lead him into sin.

In our most frequently recited prayer, one composed by Jesus himself, we ask our Father to “lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” Could you picture God ever leading you into temptation? Not at all, but God endeavors to deliver us from evil. He sent his son into our lives to save us from the evil one.

We think of temptation as a cause to sin but for many early Christians, temptation meant a time of testing. The Jewish word for temptation meant a time of trial; a time given to someone to choose being faithful or unfaithful to God. In the gospel, we find Jesus passing the test with flying colors.

Every one of us is put to the test daily.  Like the man who passed his favorite bakery, we are lead into temptations of one kind or another throughout the day or we lead ourselves. Perhaps they are not as dramatic as the ones we find in the gospel but then our resistance to the evil one is not as strong either. While Jesus was prepared to resist temptation, we are more apt to give in.

More than once, I have been rebuked, “Father, you shouldn’t talk so much about the devil and sin.”  I don’t care to, but Jesus often did and for good reason. Sin poses a real danger for us that we too often downplay. For those who deny that the devil is real, Cardinal Jorge Medina had this to say, “We know there are Catholics who doubt the existence of the devil, but this is an article of faith of the Church. Whoever says the devil does not exist is no longer a believer.”

When we renew the vows of our baptism, the first questions asked of us are not, do we believe in God but do we reject sin, the glamour of evil, and Satan, the prince of darkness?

The devil, whose name in Greek means “the deceiver,” seems to have a bottomless sack of tempting tricks available for his use including the notion that he doesn’t even exist! His methods and approaches vary from person to person but his strategy remains the same. Each time the devil succeeds in luring us to sin, the next temptation becomes a little stronger and the next fall becomes a bit easier. Before long, we become hooked and possibly oblivious to the gravity of our own sins.

We need not be afraid of the devil and his temptations. St. Augustine compares the devil to a dog tied to post. He can only harm us if we get within his range.

If we are inclined to dismiss the notion of church authority or believe we can be good Christians without the sacraments or moral guidance of the Church, then we are ignoring the very tools we need for staying clear of him and out of trouble.

Speaking of tools, there is hardly any tool in the mechanical world greater than the wedge. Once you get its thin edge in, it is only a matter of time and force how far the remainder shall be driven. The hardest stone or the toughest wood are not able to resist its power for separation. Likewise, beware the thin edge of sin. It can and will sever us from God.

Let’s not kid ourselves. We have our desert full of trials, our serpent, and our temptations. Lent is a time of entering into the desert with Jesus, of deepening our prayer. Have you ever noticed, though, that when you try to set aside a time to pray that something always comes up? All of a sudden, you remember some chore or some person you should talk to or more likely, you want to take a quick look at the TV or the internet, or getting yourself a snack.  The devil will do almost anything to keep us from praying. Many families tell me about their trials every Sunday morning, getting ready for Mass. Do you think that this is just a coincidence? Not at all. The devil wants to stop us from praying, no matter what.

But we can’t afford to give him that victory. This is the time to turn off our televisions and other distractions, to draw close to Jesus through scripture, worship, the sacraments and prayer, to really learn from him that we do not live by bread alone, but “by every word that comes form the mouth of God.”
 

Sometime after the Civil War, Robert E. Lee was visiting a friend’s Kentucky farm. The family took the retired general to see what was left of a once majestic tree in the front of their home. The mistress, still quite upset, cried bitterly that the tree’s limbs and trunk had been destroyed by artillery fire from the Northern armies. She looked at Lee, expecting some words of sympathy for the loss of the beautiful tree or words condemning the hated Union. After a long silence, Lee said, “Cut it down, my dear madam, and forget it.”

Today’s gospel is among the most radical teachings of Jesus that one can find in scripture. What he asks of us is certainly quite different from what our world has taught us or how society expects us to act. Instead of giving us quaint platitudes, he bluntly tells us to love our enemies. “Do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you.” He doesn’t stop there. Turn the other cheek.  Do to others as you would have them do to you. Be merciful and do not judge.

“This is so unreal!” might have been your reaction when you heard this gospel passage yet Jesus is clear and to the point, “Forgive and you will be forgiven.”  In a nutshell, Jesus is challenging us to ponder our approach to living.  Face it, life isn’t always a bed of roses. We get into skirmishes and confrontations. Some minor, others not, so what do you do when someone wrongs you? Are you apt to forgive, forget and move on? Or do you cling to the hurt, unwilling to let go?  Jesus is pleading with us to “absorb” whatever evil is done to us and not respond in kind, so that violence ends with us. To be a disciple of Jesus means having the courage to “cut down” the anger, hatred, despair and distrust that block us from forgiving others when we must, thus enabling justice, reconciliation, and peace to blossom and flourish among us.

Any account of someone forgiving another person for a grievous offense stands out as being heroic rather than the norm. Recall the willingness of both Pope John Paul and President Reagan to forgive their would-be assassins. We may think of them as being heroes but they were simply acting as any Christian should.

I imagine most everyone gathered here aspires to be judged a good Christian but what criteria do we use for being good? Like it or not, there are some inherent values we are being taught here that defines a person as being a good Christian.

We may feel that we are going through the day with a Christian mindset but our actions would suggest otherwise. We approach life with a Christian ethic yet our philosophy may be more akin to “I’m number 1.” “You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.” “If you hurt me, I’ll get even with you.”

Many of our relationships in life are shaped by the notion of reciprocity, rather than by the golden rule. That is, “what’s in it for me?” We tend to act the way society expects us to act rather than the way Jesus urges us to in this gospel passage. Instead of living life with worldly wisdom, we should try a dose of Christian wisdom.

Those who hold no grudge against their enemies but attempt to love them demonstrate Christian wisdom. Those who mediate reconciliation by saying, “I forgive you,” to those who have wronged them demonstrate Christian wisdom. Those who give to the less fortunate without seeking IOU’s give evidence of Christian wisdom. Those who are compassionate to the rejected members of society give proof of their Christian wisdom. Those who treat others in the way they desire to be treated have grasped the wisdom behind what Jesus is teaching here.

For those whose lives are shaped by this wisdom, the command to love one’s enemies has not proven to be impossible.  Martin Luther King, Jr. once said, “Far from being the pious injunction of a utopian dreamer, the command to love one’s enemy is an absolute necessity for our survival. Love even for enemies is the key to the solution of the problems of our world. Jesus is not an impractical idealist; he is a practical realist.”  

Henry Ward Beecher, a renowned preacher offered this insight to those who are reluctant to their past hurts. “‘I can forgive, but I cannot forget,’ is only another way of saying, ‘I will not forgive.’ A forgiveness ought to be like a cancelled note, torn in two and burned up, so that it can never be shown against the man.”

Nonetheless, some of us are still apt to protest, “Why should I forgive that person? There is no way I can forgive that person for what was done to me!” I hear that cry often in the confessional but as Alexander Pope said, “To err is human, to forgive divine.” That line may sound like a cliché, but for the sake of our well-being, we cannot ignore it.

Instead of the traditional litany of prayers as a penance, I often urge penitents to say the Lord’s Prayer slowly and reflectively, and then keep the promise buried in the prayer. “Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those…”

Jesus isn’t asking the impossible of us. Indeed, we are carried along by the One who has gone before us, establishing the Christian norm that raises the bar beyond worldly standards. With grace, he empowers and enables us to make what many think of as being heroic the norm in our approach to living. Do we dare follow his example?