Fr. Rick Spicer

Luke tells us about two disciples who had lost hope, walking home to Emmaus disappointed and grieving over what had happened. It was a long journey roughly seven miles, about a 4-hour walk.  As disciples of Jesus they had heard His message repeatedly, speaking about the love of the Father.  They had heard Him speak about the love we need to extend to others.  Life would be so beautiful; the world would be so wonderful if people would only love each other, especially those who need the love and compassion of others.  Cleopas and his companion had likely witnessed His many deeds and miracles. Perhaps they were present when Jesus fed thousands with a few loaves of bread. They were convinced that Jesus was the Messiah.

But then everything fell apart. Jesus was arrested the Thursday before. He was treated horribly that night and then the next day, scourged and crucified. The disciples were certain that this would not happen to the Messiah. They were in shock. They had loved this Jesus, and now He was dead. That day, they heard that Jesus was not in the tomb. Yet they saw no reason to stay in town and they headed home.

As they walked, hashing over what had happened, a total stranger walks up to them and interrupts their conversation. “What are you guys talking about?” Don’t you pretty much ask the same question when you are trying to be included in someone else’s conversation? Then once you get the gist of their topic, you add your two cents worth, which Jesus did.

After sharing their dismay over what had happened, one said, “We were hoping that he would be the one to redeem Israel.” Jesus at first reprimanded them for being downcast. “How foolish you are! How slow of heart to believe all that the prophets spoke! Was it not necessary that the Christ should suffer these things and enter into his glory?” Jesus then used the opportunity for however many more miles they walked to get in a few more lessons.

Keep in mind that the disciples still didn’t fully understand all of the Good News that Jesus had been sharing with them.  They had envisioned an earthly messiah who would liberate them from the oppressive Romans. Little did they realize that this Messiah came to liberate them from much more than that and like them, we too can be foolish and slow of heart to fully believe and grasp the Good News of Jesus Christ.

With added lessons Jesus slowly got these two travelers to realize that their hope was not futile. He indeed came to redeem Israel but in a manner they hadn’t imagined until that moment when they recognized him in the breaking of bread.

The experience of these two disciples reflects our own. At first, I thought it somewhat odd that they were walking away from Jerusalem but then I wonder how often might we have done the same, walking away from God or the Church when we have been disappointed or disillusioned.

I have known people who have left the Church, perhaps let down by the scandalous conduct of a priest or blaming God for some misfortune in their lives, like the untimely death of a loved one, which many have sadly experienced in the midst of this pandemic. Others change to a different faith, drawn perhaps by a friend who has done the same thing. Over the years I have heard a litany of reasons why the second largest religion in our country is the fallen away Catholic.

What they leave behind is the opportunity to do what we Catholics have done since that first Sunday in Emmaus, namely recognize Jesus in the breaking of bread.

If asked why they left, some lament that they got nothing out of receiving communion. Perhaps they only saw the host as a piece of bread. What might they believe if they had taken the time to better understand our faith? Many adult Catholics rarely study the catechism of our Church or even take time to read scripture.  Once they were confirmed, did they feel that  they knew all that they needed to know?

Could Jesus accuse some of us of being slow of heart in believing all that he has told us through the prophets and the apostles? If, for example, the celebration of the Mass has little appeal to you, consider this; have you invited the Lord to stay with you? Had those two disciples not invited Jesus to stay with them, he would have ventured on his way and they would have remained blind to all that had happened.

The same is true for us. For Jesus to become real, we must first open the door of our being to him, and that calls for faith and hospitality. Make time for him. Go to your room and pray daily. Pick up the Bible and meditate on the readings of the day. Let Jesus speak to you so that you too can recognize him. During this pandemic, when we can’t gather as a faith community, we can ill afford to walk away from God. You can still view the Mass in numerous ways on TV and the Internet. Just as children are being schooled via the Internet, you can deepen your relationship with Christ through apps such as FORMED, which offers a gold mine of many lessons for better knowing Jesus and our Catholic faith.

In this trying time, don’t lose hope for Jesus is here walking with us, soothing us with his Word. Our hearts will burn within us when we invite Jesus to stay with us, so that he can have the chance to open our eyes to his awesome love. 

Some of you right now maybe feeling imprisoned due to the quarantine. This brings to mind the story of a certain prisoner. One cold December morning in Russia in 1849, 20 political prisoners were lined up to be shot by a firing squad. Just before the order was given, an officer arrived on the scene with the news that the czar had commuted their death sentence to ten years of hard labor in Siberia. One of the prisoners was a young man named Feodor Dostoevsky. 

When Feodor arrived in Siberia, he began to read the New Testament and by the time he had finished, he was a firm believer in Jesus Christ. He wrote to a friend, “No one is more beautiful and more perfect than Christ. If anyone proved to me that Christ was outside the truth, I would prefer to remain outside with Christ than inside with the truth.”

After being released from prison, Feodor began writing novels. Perhaps you have read some of them: The Brothers Karamazov or Crime and Punishment. Success as an author soon went to his head and he began to drink and gamble heavily. Worse yet, he set aside his faith in Christ.

Shortly before he died however, Dostoevsky returned to the faith.  His atheistic friends ridiculed him, regarding his return to the faith as a sick act of a sick man. In response, he wrote in his diary. “These fools could not even conceive so strong a denial of God as the one to which I gave expression. It is not like a child that I believe in Christ and confess him. My hosanna has come forth from the crucible of doubt.”

Dostoevsky’s story is like that of Thomas. Both men once placed their faith in Jesus Christ. Both men abandoned their faith in Jesus, then both returned to their faith in Christ. We can relate to their stories, especially in this trying time when the trial of this pandemic is compelling some of us to look at our faith in Christ differently. Now when we are being denied the chance to worship at Mass together, some people may be tempted to abandon their faith in the Lord just as Thomas and other disciples did, or if we haven’t abandon him, we aren’t following Jesus as closely as we should.

Anyone who has traveled the road of faith knows that it is not a widely paved highway. Rather, faith is a narrow bumpy dirt road that is paved with three things: loving trust in God, constant struggle, and times of darkness and doubt.

First, faith involves a loving trust in God.  Contrary to what some people may argue, faith is not totally intellectual. Belief in God is not a matter of the head; belief in God is a matter of the heart. Faith is accepting the possibility that God loves us unconditionally.

Faith is not something purely intellectual, like seeing the solution to a math problem. Rather, faith is much more personal and profound. Even when the intellect is confused, faith enables us to have trust in God.

One of the earliest bible stories I learned as a kid was the story of Abraham when he was asked to sacrifice his son Isaac. Sacrificing his son made little sense. That meant killing the person through whom God promised him descendants. Had Abraham relied on his own reason, he would have set aside his trust in God but he didn’t. He chose to trust God and as a result, God blessed him richly.

Secondly, faith involves a constant struggle on our part. Again, recall the story of Abraham. When God promised to give Abraham descendants thru his son Isaac, Abraham believed, despite his age. He never doubted, but when God asked him to sacrifice his son, he had good reason then to doubt God. That episode taught Abraham an important truth about faith. Faith involves much more than a one-time decision to believe. Faith involves a series of ongoing decisions to continually believe. This struggle will go on until we actually see God face to face. Let’s not kid ourselves; the devil is always trying to persuade us to renounce our faith.

Third, faith involves times of darkness. By this I mean times when our faith seems to go behind a cloud like a full moon does at times. Granted, there are times when we find it hard to believe, times like now, when the world is besieged by a pandemic that has disrupted our way of life. Our daily routine has been altered. We can’t mingle with friends, shop in our usual stores, attend Mass, gather together and socialize, leaving us wondering if and when life will get back to normal.

Yes, there are times when God tests our faith, just as God tested the faith of Abraham. But God also offers us peace just as he did to the apostles. When times of testing arise, I remember these lines a fugitive from the Nazis wrote on the wall of a basement where he was hiding. “I believe in the sun even when it is not shining. I believe in love even when I do not feel it. I believe in God even when he is silent.”

Thomas’ story is about believing, not doubting. His story is our story. As I said, traveling the road of faith involves three things: having a loving trust in God, constant struggle, and times of darkness. Feodor Dostoevsky experienced them as did Thomas the apostle, who is best remembered for saying, “My Lord and my God!” Thomas came to believe because he could see the risen Lord, but as Jesus said to him, “Blessed are those who have not seen and have believed.”

“After the Sabbath, Mary Magdalene and the other Mary came to see the tomb. And behold, there was a great earthquake.” We don’t think of earthquakes too often for most of them go unnoticed. Two minor earthquakes happened yesterday not far from here but did you notice them? When big ones happen, they are unforgettable. I was in San Francisco for that big one in 1989. We had our last big one, the Nisqually Quake, on Ash Wednesday, 2001.

What can be said about earthquakes can be said about Easter. The first one was a seismic event that shook the world. Mary and her companion must have been scared but the angel told them not to be afraid. Fearful yet overjoyed they ran to tell the disciples. On the way Jesus met them and also said, “Do not be afraid!”

Hopefully we are not afraid, but this year we are celebrating Easter differently. Like the disciples, we are celebrating the resurrection alone, in the silence of our homes instead of in our church, praying and hoping that our faith outweighs what fears we have, mindful also of Jesus’ first words spoken upon rising from the dead, “Do not be afraid!”

My friends, wherever you are, this Easter is like no other. Christians around the world have gathered to celebrate this feast time and time again, but this Easter stands apart as one that will not go by unnoticed or be forgotten.

Alas, we aren’t being allowed to celebrate Easter together but we can still proclaim with our lives our joy in the hope of rebirth. The numbers of those suffering from the corona virus are staggering and we keep them all in our prayers.  No one, however, need suffer from the loss of our Easter joy for no pandemic can destroy Easter.

The celebration of Easter stands in stark contrast to our commemoration of Good Friday.  That day, there were no flowers or alleluias.  Instead, there was the bare cross. 

Yet, both Good Friday and Easter, along with Holy Thursday, are bound together into one celebration, the celebration of the Paschal Mystery.  The name paschal refers to the lamb, Jesus, who was sacrificed and whose sacrifice brought life.

As you and I both know, God is the source of life, both physically and spiritually. Without God, without a spiritual life, mankind’s existence is limited to the here and now. No eternity. When life ends, that is the finale.

But that first Easter morning changed all that. Jesus’ death was God’s means of restoring life to our brothers and sisters, to us. Jesus rose from the dead and became the source of spiritual life to all who believe in him. That is why we call out, “Alleluia!” We are dead no more. No longer afraid, we are alive in the Lord. The sign of our acceptance of this tenet will happen shortly when we renew our baptismal promises.

What about those who have never been baptized? What happened to the just Jew or the spiritual Hindu? Or the moral humanitarian agnostic or atheist; some whom we number among our friends and relatives? Do they have a future after death? In our intercessions on Good Friday, we prayed for them, keeping in mind that by descending into hell during his time in the tomb Jesus was calling forth all those who desired to do what was right and just, people of good will, who by choosing to do good were choosing to be in union with God, no matter what notion of God they had. We call this baptism by desire.

Our parish is small yet our parish family is much like any other parish. I haven’t heard of anyone being ill with the coronavirus but some are in pain, due to an illness or injury. Some are struggling with being homebound. There are some whose marriages or families have fallen apart or are on hard times; I am concerned about children who have lost the safe haven that their schools provided. Despite the unique circumstances we find ourselves in, I pray that you will find what St. Augustine called happiness in hope, which the joy of Easter offers us. He used that phrase, “happiness in hope” in his writings to describe the Christian attitude in life. He noted that society can only provide lasting happiness if it is united to God.

As followers of Christ, we have to do our share to bring peace and justice to the world, beginning within our homes. We cannot turn our backs on people who are suffering.  We have to insist or at least pray that those in leadership use their authority justly and yet, we know that in the end, society alone cannot provide lasting happiness for anyone. 

We Christians have as our happiness the hope of eternal life.  Easter is the celebration of that hope.  Our hope is that we will share in the fullness of the New Life Jesus won for us through His suffering and death. It is also our hope in Christ that helps us endure challenges like the corona virus.

Christ was raised so we can share His New Life. This hope is the Gift that he offers us on Easter!  May this day be like that of a big earthquake, one that you will recall for years to come. May the life of the Risen Lord flow through our veins, so that every thought, word and deed of our livesmay shout out: Do not be afraid! Jesus Lives! Alleluia!

This Good Friday is unlike any we have ever experienced. Not being able to gather as a congregation to commemorate the passion of Jesus leaves many of you standing like witnesses on the hillside watching the drama from afar. This day was one of great suffering, betrayal, rejection and sadness. However much you may have suffered or been inconvenienced during this quarantine, literally or figuratively, your suffering pales in contrast to what Jesus endured that day. As Isaiah suggests, we do not carry our suffering alone. He tells us, “it was our infirmities that he bore, our sufferings that he endured, while we thought of him as stricken, as one smitten by God and afflicted.”

We cannot think of Good Friday without thinking of the suffering that is going on around the world and in our midst. The daily headlines remind us of the impact of the covid-19 virus, not only those filling many hospital beds or dying from this illness, but also the many who are either unemployed or underemployed. Families and friends mourning the loss of a loved one, have to do so without the usual funeral.

How vulnerable we feel during this time, keeping our distance, wearing masks in public, refraining from our usual social endeavors so that we can all stay healthy. 

In a recent timely interview when asked about the covid-19 virus, Pope Francis said, “It’s not easy to be confined to your house…Take care of yourselves for a future that will come. And remembering in that future what has happened will do you good. Take care of thenow, for the sake of tomorrow. Always creatively, with a simple creativity, capable of inventing something new each day. Inside the home that’s not hard to discover, but don’t run away, don’t take refuge in escapism, which in this time is of no use to you.”

Imagine how vulnerable Jesus was on the cross, having just endured a gruesome torture, beyond any we can imagine. He really suffered. Don’t fictionalize this event; don’t imagine that he felt pain less than we do. If anything, he suffered more intensely than you and I ever have or ever will.

We will soon gaze upon the wood of the cross. In doing so, we can be stuck in the grief, in the pain, in the shame that is part of our story. But we know how this drama ends. We gather today, not to mourn the death of Jesus but to rejoice that death did not have the final say. We are resurrection people and we know that Easter will soon dawn.

Thus we venerate the cross, not as a symbol of torture but as a symbol of Jesus’ victory over death, over pain, over grief, over addiction, over shame. Sin has been conquered. The forces of hatred prevailed for a day but the real victory of the cross belongs to the ages. 

This Friday is called good because we know sin no longer controls our lives. Moved by the example of his self-giving love, we can find new life and meaning in whatever suffering we encounter, knowing that suffering is a human experience God can fully relate to. Jesus died and then rose from the dead so that we could live differently, knowing that our lives are no longer controlled by sin and evil.

As we gaze upon the cross, let us be reminded once again by his example of love and his command to follow his example. May the cross empower us with renewed faith to face whatever suffering we encounter and respond with love, patience and compassion, especially in the weeks ahead. Without denying our grief or anger over unexplained or untimely suffering, be assured that God is walking with us in our pain every step of the way.

This Lenten season has been one few of us will ever forget. We never imagine on Ash Wednesday that we would be giving up gathering as a faith community within the walls of our church to celebrate the Eucharist. Nor did we imagine that on this day, we would not wave palms, much less take any home. In the midst of this quarantine imposed on us by the covid-19 virus, we are venturing into a rather unusual Holy week.

Had we been able to gather together, we would have heard before Mass started the gospel passage proclaiming Jesus’ regal entrance into the city of Jerusalem, riding on a colt amid shouts of joy from the onlookers. How euphoric that was for everyone involved.

Jesus was welcomed as a hero who would lead his fellow Jews into battle and defeat their enemies. For the people of biblical Jerusalem, that meant the Romans. They anticipated that their Messiah would establish a kingdom of peace and justice. Because the Messiah was to be a descendant of King David, the great warrior king of the Old Testament, Jesus was called “Son of David.”

As Jesus entered the city, the crowds cried out, “Hosanna!” This exclamation means “Lord, save us!” Because the Jews believed the Messiah deserved the red carpet treatment, Jesus was greeted with palms and cloaks thrown on the ground as he rode through the city. By their words and actions, the people of Jerusalem proclaimed Jesus as their long awaited Messiah.

Jesus accepted the honor but as he had often revealed in his teachings, the Messiah would not be a military hero but a humble servant of God who would conquer sin and death by dying on the cross.

Thus, the cheers of the crowds soon turned to jeers. When Jesus failed to be the messiah whom they anticipated, the citizens of Jerusalem demanded, “Let him be crucified!” What a radical change, going from a hero’s welcome to a humiliating barbaric painful execution.

To an outsider, such betrayal may have made sense. Jesus was in the opinion of some a self-proclaimed eccentric who got the fate he deserved. To his followers, however, what happened epitomized all that he had taught them during their time together. To love God means to surrender oneself to the will of God. What better way could the teacher drive home this crucial message than by his own example?

Jesus emptied himself to demonstrate the total surrender of his personal interests to God. That didn’t come easy for even on the cross he cried out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Still, Jesus knew he had no choice. To place his interests first would mean being unfaithful to his mission, the one voiced by those who pleaded, “Hosanna! Save us!”

The last thing Jesus could ever do was betray his Father.

Matthew’s narrative of the passion opened with Judas opting to betray Jesus. He asked the chief priests, “What are you willing to give me if I hand him over to you?” But Judas was not alone. Many others betrayed Jesus; the crowds, the chief priests, even his disciples. They weren’t the first nor would they be the last. Adam and Eve were the first to betray God and by our own sinfulness, we have done the same.

Betrayal means surrendering to the enemy. In this case, think of God’s number enemy, namely Satan. Betrayal describes the motives behind Judas, Peter, Pilate, the chief priests and nearly everyone else in the Passion story. They were no longer faithful to God, opting instead for what they wanted, choosing to be selfish rather than loving, putting their self-interests ahead of what God was asking of them.

How often have we made choices based on what we wanted without considering the costs beforehand if our choices put us at odds with what God is asking of us?

Last week, I received this prayer from a friend in Salt Lake City that I want to pass on to you for this Holy Week when we are being asked to stay home so we can keep healthy.

May we who are merely inconvenienced, remember those whose lives are at stake. May we who have no risk factors, remember those who are most vulnerable.

May we who have the luxury of working from home, remember those who must choose between preserving their health or making their rent. May we who have the flexibility to care for our children when their schools are closed, remember those who have no such option.

May we who have to cancel trips, remember those who have no safe place to go. May we who are losing our margin money in the tumult of the economic market, remember those who have no margin at all.

May we who settle in for a quarantine at home, remember those who have no home. As fear grips our country, let us choose love.

During this time when we cannot physically wrap our arms around each other, let us find ways to be the loving embrace of God to our neighbors.

Amen.