Fr. Rick Spicer

A man once came to Jesus to ask him the question. “What must I do to enter the kingdom of heaven?”  Jesus told him, “You must be born again.” “But how,” the man asked. “can I become so small that I can crawl back into my mother’s womb?”

 

“Amen, amen, I say to you,” replied Jesus, “Unless you are born again by water and the Holy Spirit, you cannot have eternal life.” 

 

Tonight, catechumen around the world will receive that new birth. After they renounced sin and professed their faith, they will be baptized. Blessed water will be poured over them with the words, “I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit.” 

 

Several years ago, a friend invited me to witness the birth of her son. That was, needless to say, a moving experience. As any mother will tell you, the birth of a child involves more than just the pains of labor. For some, the pregnancy itself can be arduous. From what I was told, my mother endured quite a bit when she gave birth to me since I was breached.  Afterwards, I was probably no picnic either!

 

A teacher once asked her second grade class what each wanted to be when they grew up. Her students replied, “A football player.” “A doctor.” “A policeman.” “A nurse.” “A teacher.” Everyone responded except Timmy, who sat rather quietly at his place.

 

So his teacher asked him, “Timmy, what do you want to be when you grow up?” “Possible, “Timmy replied. “”Possible?” asked the confused teacher. “What do you mean?”

 

“Well,” Timmy explained, “My mom is always telling me that I’m impossible. So when I get big, I want to be possible.”

 

By rising from the dead, Jesus Christ enables us to make possible in our lives all that he taught and lived throughout his brief earthly life: that love, compassion, generosity, humility and self-sacrifice will triumph over hatred, bigotry, prejudice, despair, greed and death. The empty tomb that we recall on Easter morning is the sign of perfect hope–that in Christ, all things are possible, that we can make of our lives what we want them to be, that we can become the people God created us to become.

 

Birth marks a new beginning for a child who has been growing in a mother’s womb, but as any parent knows, “We have only just begun.”  The same is true for those who are baptized. However prepared they are for this moment, I cautioned parents and godparents that baptism is the beginning, not the end of a child’s faith journey with Jesus Christ. To Dina and to anyone else who is to be baptized, I’d say, “You have only just begun!”

 

Baptism can only happen once, just as we can only be born once. What all of us can do, as we witness another person’s baptism, is be fully open to the gift we received on the day of our own baptism, by opening wide our hearts to Christ and his message of new life. We will all have a chance to do that when we renew our baptismal vows.

 

Our baptism joins us to a very large family, the Catholic Church that shares the same sacraments, the same catechism, and the same Holy Father. Our ultimate goal in this life is to be part of that great communion of saints. The quest for new life may seem impossible at times but if we stick with Jesus and his Church, some day we will emerge from the womb of this world into that final rebirth, our own resurrection.

Brother Tim taught theology. He would take in any student that had been thrown out of another class as long as they would abide by his rules. Steve was kicked out of his sixth period class and no other teacher would take him in, so he went to Brother Tim’s class. He was told that he couldn’t be late, so he would arrive just before the bell rang, sit in the back row and leave as soon as he could.

 

One day, Brother Tim asked Steve to stay after class. He said, “You think you’re pretty tough, don’t you?” Steve replied, “Yeah, I do.” Then Brother Tim asked him, “How many push-ups can you do?”

 

Steve said, “I do about 200 every night.” “200? That’s pretty good. Do you think you could do 300?” Brother Tim asked. “I don’t know…I’ve never done that many before.” “Well, do you think you can?” “I can try,” said Steve. “Can you do 300 in sets of 10?” Brother Tim asked. “Yeah, I think I can do it.” “Good!” Brother Tim said, “I need you to do this on Friday.”

 

Friday came and Steve got to class early and sat in the front row. When class began, Brother Tim pulled out a big box of donuts. Now these were the fancy kind with creamy centers and ample frosting. Of course, everyone was excited.

 

Brother Tim went to the first girl in the front row and asked, “Janet, do you want a donut?” She replied, “Yes.” Brother Tim then turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten push-ups so that Janet can have a donut?” “Sure.” He jumped down from his desk and did a quick ten. When he was done, Brother Tim put a donut on Janet’s desk.

 

Brother Tim then went to Joe, the next person, and asked, “Joe, do you want a donut?” He said, “Sure.” Brother Tim asked, “Steve, would you do ten push ups so Joe can have a donut?” Steve did ten push ups, Joe got his donut, and so it went down the front row. Steve did ten push ups for every person before they got their donut.

 

Then Brother Tim came to Scott, who was captain of the football team and center of the basketball team. He was very popular and never lacking for girl friends. When Brother Tim asked Scott if he wanted a donut, he replied, “Well, can I do my own pushups?” Brother Tim said, “No, Steve has to do them for you.” “In that case, I don’t want one,” said Scott. Brother Tim turned to Steve and asked, “Steve, would you do ten pushups so Scott can have the donut he doesn’t want?” As Steve began to do ten pushups, Scott protested, “Hey! I said I didn’t want one!”

 

Brother Tim said, “Look, this is my classroom, my class, my desks, and my donuts. Just leave it on the desk if you don’t want it.” And he placed a donut on Scott’s desk.

 

By now, Steve had begun to slow down a bit. You could see a little perspiration coming out around his brow. Brother Tim started down the third row. The students were beginning to get a little angry. Brother Tim asked Jenny, “Jenny, do you want a donut?” She answered, “No.” Brother Tim then asked Steve, “Steve, would you do ten pushups so Jenny can have a donut that she doesn’t want?” Steve did ten and Jenny got a donut. Many students said “No” so there were many uneaten donuts on their desks. Steve was putting forth a lot of effort getting through ten pushups for each donut. A small pool of sweat began to form on the floor beneath his face.

 

Brother Tim asked Bob to watch Steve to make sure he did ten pushups in each set because he couldn’t bear to watch all of Steve’s work for all of those unwanted donuts. So Bob began to watch Steve closely.

 

Brother Tim started down the fourth row. Some students had wondered in and stood along the back wall. When Brother Tim noticed this, he started to worry if Steve would be able to make it. He went on to the next student and the next and the next. Near the end of that row, Steve was really having a rough time completing each set of ten pushups.

Steve asked Brother Tim, “Do I have to make my nose touch the floor on each pushup?” Brother Tim thought a bit, “Well, they’re your pushups. You can do them any way you want.”

 

Just then, Jason came to the door. All the students yelled, “Don’t come in!” Jason didn’t know what was going on. Steve picked up his head and said, “Let him come in.” Brother Tim said, “You realize that if Jason comes in, you will have to do ten pushups for him.” Steve nodded.  Brother Tim turned to Jason and asked, “Do you want a donut?” “Yes,” said Jason.

 

“Steve, will you do ten pushups so that Jason can have a donut?” Steve did ten pushups very slowly with much effort. Jason, bewildered, was handed a donut as he sat down.

Brother Tim finished the last row, then he started on those standing in the back. Steve’s arms were now shaking with each pushup as he struggled to lift himself up. Sweat was dripping off his face and by this time, there was not a dry eye in the room. The last two girls in the room were popular cheerleaders. “Linda,” Brother Tim asked, “Do you want a donut?” Too choked up to talk, she shook her head, no.

 

“Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Linda can have a donut she doesn’t want?” Grunting from the effort, Steve did ten very slow pushups for Linda. Then Brother Tim turned to Julie, the last student in the room, “Julie, do you want a donut? Crying, she asked, “Can I help him?” Brother Tim, with tears of his own, said, “No, he has to do it alone. Steve, would you do ten pushups so that Julie can have a donut?”

 

As Steve very slowly finished his last pushup, aware that he had done all that was required of him, having completed 350 pushups, his arms buckled beneath him and he fell to the floor, his strength entirely spent.

 

Brother Tim then concluded the day’s lesson.

 

“And so it was, that our savior, Jesus, cried out, ‘Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.’ Knowing that he had done everything required of him, he collapsed on the cross and died.”

 

“Jesus called loudly, “Father, I place my life in your hands!” Then he breathed his last.”

 

“And so it was that our savior, Jesus said, ‘Now it is finished.’ And bowing his head, he handed over his spirit. Knowing that he had done everything required of him, he collapsed on the cross and died.”

“On the night he was betrayed.” Those words weren’t in tonight’s gospel yet they should sound familiar to you. Each time we celebrate the third Eucharistic prayer, we hear them. Tonight let them seep into the very marrow of your being. By dwelling on the reality of betrayal in our own lives, we can sense some of the pain Jesus felt and grow closer to being the people God calls us to become.

 

I suspect we have all felt betrayed at some point in our lives. After sharing a confidence with a friend, I later heard it being bantered around by others. That prompted me to lose my cool, as they say with the friend whom I thought had betrayed me. That didn’t help matters any. Despite apologizing for my inappropriate outburst, our relationship has never been the same since.

 

Perhaps a spouse has betrayed you with unfaithfulness or indifference. Some parents feel betrayed because their now adult children no longer practice the faith in which they were raised. I could go on, but I think you get the idea. How we handle these betrayals in life determines our future.

 

For example, in tonight’s gospel, John never tells us why Jesus rose from the meal and proceeded to wash his disciples’ feet.  The timing really makes little sense to me.  I could understand why Jesus might have done this as a welcome gesture at the start of the meal but in the middle?

 

In Luke’s account of the last supper, we are told that a dispute arose among the disciples about who would be regarded as the greatest.   In the midst of his final meal with his closest friends, Jesus has voiced his fears, his hopes, his pending betrayal, and the meaning behind his gifts of bread and wine.   Instead of really listening, the disciples bickered amongst themselves about their pecking order.

 

What if Jesus had reacted as I did when I felt betrayed?  Picture him, walking out of the upper room, peeved that his closest friends really did not care about what he had just told them.  “OK, forget what I just said.  I’m leaving for the Garden of Olives now.”

 

Instead, Jesus responds to this distraction by saying, in effect, “Watch this.”  So he gets up and grabs a towel.  Then he took a basin and pitcher and began to do a task that is normally done by slaves. Imagine how Peter felt!  Instead of seeing Jesus as Lord, he now sees Jesus as one who came to serve rather than be served.  That is the common understanding we have in the washing of the feet.

 

For me, the scene goes beyond the notion of service to others.   The image of dirty feet suggests that we carry around dirt from past ventures.  Washing dirty feet implies a cleansing of our past attitudes and of our self-centered agendas that can prevent us from nurturing the difficult art of reconciliation with others in our lives and with Jesus himself.  So long as we remain coated with the dust of our self-centered ways or the dirt of past hurts, how can we allow Jesus or anyone else to be our companion? How can we truly experience forgiveness?

 

We know very well how Peter reacted when Jesus came to him, “You shall never wash my feet!”    “If I do not wash you,” Jesus answered, “you will have no inheritance with me.”  In other words, the art of forgiveness is what being a Christian is all about.  For us to share in his legacy, Jesus asks that he be given the chance to wash our feet of whatever sins are keeping us from having a close friendship with him.    “So long as you are soiled by the dirt of your ways, how can you fully understand what I am leaving with you?”

 

We generally think of bathing as a very private affair and for Jesus to “clean our dirty feet” can indeed be a humbling and moving experience and for a true friend to do that can also be humbling for us. What separates the true friend from the mere acquaintance is the knowledge that in spite of what I have done, a true friend, like Jesus, is willing to forgive me.

 

As Lent comes to a close, we should ask ourselves, “Who needs our forgiveness?” In the spirit of the gospel, “Is there anyone whose feet we need to wash?” On the night he was betrayed, Jesus washed the feet of his apostles, knowing full well that in the days ahead, all of them except John would abandon him. When he was done, he issued them a mandate, “what I just did was to give you an example:  as I have done, so you must do.”   

 

Are we willing to follow his example?  If we are willing to forgive others for the times we have been betrayed, then we can fully savor the Eucharist as a meal that can truly feed our souls.

When people go on trips and visit new places, they often look for and collect souvenirs to bring home such as t-shirts, coffee mugs, jewelry, or art work made by a local artist.

After my last fun-filled day at Disneyland several years ago, I joined other shoppers looking at the last minute for that perfect souvenir. My friend, Bob, persuaded me to buy this cap since Fantasia is one of my favorite movies. Souvenirs are reminders of where we have been, what we have heard and seen, and what we have done. Souvenirs along with our snapshots are the next best thing to be being there.

 

Today, each of us has received a souvenir of Holy Week, a simple yet powerful reminder of a trip we have just begun. Our souvenir is a palm branch. Hopefully, you will take this branch home and keep it in sight as a reminder of the tour St. Mark has just taken us on.

 

From Bethany in the home of Simon the leper, where a woman anointed Jesus with perfumed oil, we ventured to Jerusalem where Jesus and his disciples gathered for one last meal, a meal that has been celebrated many times since all over the world. We then continued on to Gethsemane to the Mount of Olives where Jesus prayed and the disciples slept and Jesus asked if they could keep watch for one hour.

 

But Mark’s tour didn’t end there. We have also been to the high priest’s courtyard, where Peter denied Jesus three times and heard the cock crow, to the praetorium, to a hilltop called Golgotha, and finally to a tomb where a stone was rolled across the entrance.

 

Our palm branch reminds us of what we have seen and heard. From the words of praise as Jesus entered the city riding a colt, to the angry words of a fickle crowd that just a few days later shouted, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” From the words of anguish as Jesus cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” to the centurion’s words of awe, “Truly, this man was the son of God!” 

 

This palm branch is our precious souvenir of the passion and death of Jesus. I urge you not to toss this palm branch out but to treat it with reverence and respect when you get home, for this simple souvenir is a vivid reminder of Jesus’ immense love for you.

 

But these branches are more than simple souvenirs of times past. As we venture into the holiest week of the year, they are an invitation to recount our salvation history.

 

Lent ends at sundown this Thursday. That is when the Triduum begins, the three most sacred days of the year for us. We will follow Jesus to the last supper. The next evening on Good Friday as we begin the second day of the Triduum, we witness his suffering and death as we gather to recall the passion according to St. John and venerate the cross.  The third day of the Triduum begins on Holy Saturday evening at the Easter Vigil.

 

At the vigil, weather permitting, we gather in darkness at 9 to be startled by the paschal fire, a visual reminder that Christ, our light, has risen from the dead to dispel the darkness of sin from our lives. Then we will welcome those who have been preparing for full initiation into our Church to be one with us at the Lord’s Table. The Triduum ends at sundown on Easter. Come and journey with us through all three days.

 

A week from today, your palm branch will be more than just a souvenir of this day; it will be our trophy over sin and death, a sign and symbol to hang proudly in our homes as a reminder that someday we too will rise from the dead!

 

I was seventeen when my father died unexpectedly of a heart attack.  I can still remember the moment when the call came from the hospital that he was dead.

That morning, nearly forty years ago, I dealt with death up front for the first time.  Aunts, uncles and grandparents had died but they didn’t live nearby.  I knew that I would never see them again but this was different.  Dad would not be home for dinner that night.  I would not see him around the house ever again. I had to imagine my father leaving on another trip, this time with a one way ticket, not into oblivion but to eternal life.

 

My father’s death comes to mind because you just heard the gospel passage proclaimed at his funeral.  I remember vividly hearing the words, “I am the resurrection and the life.  He who believes in me, even though he dies, will live, and he who lives and believes in me will never die.”  Until then, those words had never hit home but now I had to believe them.  I just had to.

 

Face it, death is a subject that few of us care to talk about.  But the day will come when we will never see another sunrise or look upon the faces of those we love.  As common as death is, we use cosmetic words to soften its blow by saying so and so has passed away or has expired like a magazine subscription.  Many of us have lost friends and loved ones due to terminal illnesses and fatal accidents.  With good intention, others frequently encourage us to accept the outcome as though “It’s God’s will.”

 

I cannot believe that God would will the pain of any illness or accident on anyone. Be it the congestive heart failure my mother endured or the slow paralyzing death my friend, Jock, sustained from Lou Gehrig’s disease, or the bouts of cancer that have claimed the lives of friends and family in my lifetime. Nor can I believe that God would will for anyone to die traumatically as two teenagers did recently in a traffic accident not far from here, or in an act of random violence like what happened last weekend on Capitol Hill, or any other tragedy that disrupts the lives of those who survive.

 

To suggest that the appointed manner and time of my death is God’s will is to claim that God has control over my destiny. But what about our free will?  For our love to be real, God gives us free will, which allows us the freedom to do much with our lives, both good and bad, including making choices that impact our health and well-being in this lifetime and our destiny in the lifetime to come.

 

Any cardiologist today would tell me that my parents ultimately dug their own graves by the manner in which they lived their lives, exercising little, smoking heavily, and eating a poor diet until the damage was done. That cannot always be said for the victims of other illnesses but possibly their own will put them in the wrong place at the wrong time, making them vulnerable to whatever infected them.

 

The same could be said for the victims of most accidents.  Being in a given spot at the wrong time can put us at the mercy of others or of factors beyond our control.  Once while driving northbound on I-5 near Everett, a car skidded out of control across three lanes right in front of me. Had I been there seconds earlier, I would have likely been hit broadside or even head-on. 

 

Sooner or later, death will be our common experience.  If the reaction of Jesus to the death of his close friend, Lazarus, is any indication, God does not take any delight in this reality of life but never wanting to let go of us, God extends the promise of everlasting life to those who believe, as did Martha, in the resurrection. That we are destined to live forever has always been a tenacious belief of every Christian. The catechism puts it this way, “We firmly believe, and hence we hope that, just as Christ is truly risen from the dead and lives forever, so after death the righteous will live for ever with the risen Christ and he will raise them up on the last day.” (CCC 989)

The story of Lazarus is in fact our story for his name literally means, “helpless.”  There are moments in our lifetime when we feel utterly helpless and dying is likely to be one of them. That is how Jesus found Lazarus and as we heard he restored his friend to new life. 

 

And that is what we believe he has done for every righteous person since then.  In Masses for the dead, we hear the lines, “Lord, for your faithful people, life is changed, not ended. When the body of our earthly dwelling lies in death we gain an everlasting dwelling place in heaven.”  As St. Theresa of Avila said, “I am not dying; I am entering life.”

 

All of us, whether baptized or about to be baptized, should be uplifted by the claim Jesus makes in today’s gospel, “I am the resurrection and the life.  Whoever believes in me, though he should die, will come to life; and whoever is alive and believes in me will never die.” imagine Jesus posing the question to us that he asked Martha, “Do you believe this?” With her, let us each say, “Yes, Lord, I have come to believe that you are the Messiah.”

 

We need not fear the moment when death arrives for this will be, to borrow a line from Charles Dickens, the best of times. Unbounded by our earthly restraints, we will be free at last to love God with all our heart, soul, mind and strength.

 

Jesus brings us hope in place of despair and light in place of darkness. His words should remove whatever fear of dying we have for he is giving us the promise of everlasting life.