2006

Elijah wasn’t the only person who prayed to die because he had enough of life. Perhaps you too have known someone with the blahs who felt that way. One such person was a woman named Kathy who shared a third story apartment with her friend, Mary. When struck with pneumonia, she lost her will to live, refusing to even take food or drink.

 

Mary came into Kathy’s bedroom and found her counting backwards. “Ten…nine…eight…seven…” Mary asked what she was doing and Kathy replied that she was counting the leaves on an old ivy plant on the brick wall. “A few days ago, there were hundreds of them. Now there are only a few left. I believe I will die when the last leaf falls.”

 

After trying in vain to talk this nonsense out of her friend’s mind, Mary left the room to find help. She encountered Benson, an elderly mediocre artist, who lived in a basement apartment and shared with him her friend’s condition. “Leave her to me,” he said.  When Mary went back to Kathy’s room, she found her asleep. Looking out the window, she noticed a steady rain was falling and the wind was blowing.

 

The next morning when she entered Kathy’s room, Mary found her awake and staring out the window. To her surprise, despite the beating rain and gusty wind, there was still one leaf left on the ivy. “It’s the last one,” Kathy said sadly, “But surely it will fall today and I will die at the same time.” The day wore on and still the lone leaf clung to the branch. When evening came, it was still raining steadily.

 

At the first sign of dawn on the second morning, Kathy was amazed to see that the lone leaf, a mixture of yellow and green, was still there! She then said to Mary, “Something has made that leaf stay there to show me how wrong I was. Please bring me some soup.” 

 

That was the beginning of her recovery. The next day, her doctor told her she was out of danger.  

 

Leaving the room, he told Mary that her neighbor, Benson, had caught pneumonia two days earlier and was dying.  Later that afternoon, Mary found Kathy up in bed knitting. “I have some sad news to share. Benson died this morning.  Look out the window at the last leaf. Did you ever wonder why it never moved in the wind? Benson painted it there the night the last leaf fell.” By painting that leaf, such a small thing, he saved the girl from despair, but it cost him his life.

 

What Benson did for Kathy, Jesus did for us. He died on the cross to save us from sin. Seeing that lone leaf clinging to the vine gave Kathy a new lease on life. Likewise, for countless people, seeing what Jesus did on the cross, totally giving of himself, gives them a new lease on life.

 

Granted, many people fail to see, much less appreciate, the true beauty of what Jesus has to offer when he said, “Amen, amen, I say to you, whoever believes has eternal life. I am the bread of life, the living bread that came down from heaven; whoever eats this bread will live forever; and the bread I will give is my flesh for the life of the world.”

 

As with the Jews who first heard what Jesus said, his lines don’t make sense to those who want a rational explanation. His words seem silly, puzzling, and even pretentious. “How can he say, ‘I have come down from heaven’?” For them, a major stumbling block is accepting the notion that Jesus is fully divine and fully human.  For the believer, there is nothing that limits Jesus in whatever he chooses to do, including giving us himself as living bread from heaven, anymore than there is anything that limits God for he is God.

 

The impact Eucharist can have on us varies from person to person. Much depends on where we are coming from when we receive communion. For the Catholic who truly believes, Holy Communion is the life giving experience that Jesus promises. For the communicant who comes poorly prepared, the grace and impact from this living bread may be as minimal as the amount of calories found in the host itself.

 

The key word when it comes to receiving communion is ‘believe.’ What exactly does John mean here? According to Fr. Scott Lewis, a theology professor at Regis College in Toronto, he isn’t speaking of an intellectual assent to creeds or doctrines. A better description of ‘believe’ would be ‘total surrender.’ By giving oneself completely to the reality of Jesus the Christ, and believing in Jesus “we allow our minds, hearts, and sacred imagination to be transformed into the pattern of Christ himself. Belief is a way of being and living. It should affect the way we relate to others, do business, study, speak, raise families, work and even the way we view the world. But most of all, belief in Christ is a willingness to pattern ourselves on him, revealing the same God in the person we become and the life we lead.”

 

Calling himself the Bread of Life, Jesus promises us a bread that will never go stale. Many people who have had the blahs have found strength and hope in this new manna which came down from heaven. This Bread of Life helped them to face life itself. The psalmist today said it so perfectly, “Taste and see the goodness of the Lord.” Good words where daily life for many people is a diet of despair.

 

So, how much do you trust him on this promise that we could live forever? How much do you hunger for this Bread of Life? If a man like Benson could care so much, don’t you think Christ will care a lot more about you?

When my siblings gather for a reunion, we sometimes share stories of our childhood years together. My brother, seven years my junior, once related some episodes with me that I had no recollection of, a reminder that we don’t remember everything that has happened in our lives. We recall the meaningful events, while many incidents are long forgotten.

 

One unforgettable event in the life of Jesus that Peter, James and John never forgot was so profound, that it was recounted in all three synoptic gospels. A light shattering experience, you could say, as they viewed the glory of Jesus in the presence of Moses and Elijah. At first they were terrified, then subdued by what they had seen and heard.

 

After Jesus had risen from the dead, they did share their experience. In his letter, St. Peter recalls the event well, asserting that he was an eye witness of Jesus’ majesty, telling his listeners that he heard a voice from heaven, saying, “This is my son, my beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

 

On this date, 61 years ago, the world witnessed another bright light, one that exploded over the city of Hiroshima, Japan at 8:15 in the morning of August 6, 1945. Just as the world has remembered the transfiguration of Jesus for the past 2000 years, the citizens of that city pray that the world will never forget what happened as a day of disfiguration for the people of Hiroshima.  Above their city, there rose a strange gigantic mushroomed shaped cloud but this time no voice was heard saying, “Listen to him.”

 

Unlike the apostles, the survivors that day did not exclaim, “How good it is for us to be here.” When they dared to look up, they didn’t see Jesus. All around them was havoc, destruction and an eerie silence.

 

Survivors of the atomic blast are known as hibakusha. Fifteen years old at the time, one survivor, Michiko Yamaoka was a half mile from the epicenter of the explosion. Badly disfigured by burns, she endured years of discrimination.  Fifty years later at a high school in Maryland, Michiko had this to say, “I am not a scholar or a politician. I have no intention of being drawn into a political debate about whether dropping the bomb was a justifiable act. I only know what I suffered personally, and that is what I will speak about. The children I speak to must know never to repeat the horrors of the past. They are responsible for building the future. As a hibaksusha, it is my duty to inform them.”

 

The atom bombs ended the most savage and costly war ever fought but daily headlines remind us often that the tragedy of war still prevails. The toll of innocent lives killed since the end of World War II should leave us wondering if the lesson of Hiroshima will ever be learned and why after 2000 years we are still reluctant to follow God’s advice and listen to his beloved son.

 

Three years after the bombing of Hiroshima, Fr. Bernard Mullahy of Notre Dame University wrote this profound reflection:

“Once atomic energy had been locked up in the heart of matter, matter was bound to become explosive. Once all the power and light of the Godhead had been put into human life in the incarnation, Christ was bound to be the most explosive and revolutionary character that ever walked the face of the earth. He was bound to start a chain reaction which would extend across all space and time. At baptism a share of the divine energy that radiated from Christ on Mt. Tabor is put into the soul. From then on, the life of the Christian is to radiate the Christ-like. The radiation is the only thing that can save our atomic era.”

 

Like Michiko, I am not a scholar or a politician. I have no intention of being drawn into a political debate on the merit of the present conflict in the Middle East. But Fr. Mullahy’s comments raise a timely challenge for us as do St. Peter’s words of wisdom. Namely, we would do well to be attentive to God’s beloved son and listen to him.

 

On this feast of the Transfiguration in the year 2006, instead of forgetting the disfiguration of August 6, 1945, we must recommit ourselves to the mission that Jesus repeatedly gives us to radiate his love and light in a world that continues to be darkened by the sins of war and violence. In 1981, when visiting Hiroshima, Pope John Paul II said, “War is the work of man. War is the destruction of human life. War is death. To remember the past is to commit oneself to the future. To remember Hiroshima is to abhor nuclear war. To remember Hiroshima is to commit oneself to peace. One must affirm and reaffirm, again and again, that the waging of war is not inevitable or unchangeable. Humanity is not destined to self-destruction.”  His predecessor, Pope Paul VI, once said, “If you want peace, then work for justice.”

 

By our actions, words, and values, we are the light that illuminates rather than blinds the world around us. We are the light that can build up this war torn world of ours. We do that by remembering Jesus isn’t holed up in some distant tent; he lives in our hearts. His constant presence allows us to say wherever we are and in the midst of whatever we are doing, “Rabbi, it is good that we are here!” If we practice forgiveness, kindness, and compassion, we have a glorious future. Strengthened by this Eucharist, may we be Christ like and bring that message of hope to all we encounter.  

 

The Last Supper is often portrayed as the first Mass but one could argue that the scenario in today’s gospel, said to have taken place a year beforehand, is a sneak preview.  When Jesus saw the vast crowd coming toward him, he knew they needed to be fed. Fortunately for them, Andrew found a boy who was willing to sacrifice his five barley loaves and two fish.  After the people had reclined, Jesus offered thanks and then distributed the bread and the fish to them. We are told they had their fill and yet there was enough left over to fill twelve baskets. However you may want to interpret the event, this was quite a miracle story.

 

What we celebrate each time we celebrate the Mass is also a miracle.  The very core of our faith is that our gifts of bread and wine are transformed into the body and blood of Jesus Christ.  That would not be possible had Jesus not totally given of himself on the cross like the lad who gave all that he had.  What we see is bread and what we taste is wine but in fact what we receive is neither bread nor wine. What we have is the real presence of Jesus, which is why you could say the Mass is a modern day miracle that we are privileged to witness every day of the year except on Good Friday.

 

There is no way I can adequately explain the mystery of what happens here at the altar any more than I could explain how Jesus managed to feed five thousand men with only five barley loaves and two fish. The gospel tells us they ate until they had their fill. Did a physical miracle happen that enabled these loaves to literally multiply? Or did the generosity of that lad prompt the others to share what they had? We don’t know but we do know those present were fed. That is Jesus’ goal whenever we come together to celebrate the Mass, but when statistics tell me that the second largest religion in our country is the fallen away Catholic, I have to wonder how many left saying, “I am not being fed!”

 

If Jesus is to feed us, we must first be willing to listen to what he has to say just as the crowd did.  That is why the first part of our worship focuses on scripture with at least three biblical passages, one from the Gospel and two others, usually a psalm and one from the Hebrew Testament.  The lectionary is the Bible arranged not from Genesis to Revelation but from the First Sunday of Advent to the last day of Ordinary Time.  Over the course of three years, nearly the entire Bible is proclaimed here at Mass.  That is why this part of the Mass is called the Liturgy of the Word.

 

The liturgy of the Eucharist begins with the offering of our gifts to God, symbolized by bread and wine. That includes not just what we place in the collection basket, but also the gift of ourselves.  We are here physically but what is our disposition? Are we excited about this opportunity to be one with Jesus in the breaking of the bread? Are we here simply to witness a ritual or to worship God? Is our attitude one of joy much like the joy we have when we see a close friend? Or are we here to simply nibble a host and get on with our daily routine? If Jesus is to feed us, we must follow the example of the crowd and believe that he can. Theirs wasn’t a wait and see skepticism. Rather, they believed that Jesus would feed them. They willingly reclined and they were fed.

 

To the skeptic, the words we hear at the consecration make little sense for they speak of a mystery that cannot be rationally explained, which is why a number of Christians see the eucharist only as a symbolic gesture rather than a true change of substance. Our Catechism points out, “this change is brought about in the eucharistic prayer through the efficacy of the word of Christ and by the action of the Holy Spirit. However, the outward characteristics of bread and wine remain unaltered.”

 

Many Christians, even Catholics who do not understand their faith, have denounced the real presence of Jesus in the eucharist as illogical, superstitious, unbiblical, and even disgusting. After all, why should Jesus’ words to eat his body and drink his blood, which we hear in the prayer of the consecration, be taken literally? If we look at the larger picture, we can see Jesus boldly speaking of himself as being in a unique relationship with God.  As the son of God, what is there to keep him from offering us his body and blood in a new and mysterious manner? After all, this is no longer the same physical body that once walked the hills of Galilee. Instead, his resurrected body, now unlike any other in history, has ascended into heaven.

 

I urge you to read and reflect upon the 6th chapter of John’s gospel to better understand what lies at the core of our Catholic belief on the Eucharist. John provides an in-depth reflection of the meaning of this awesome sacrament, one so precious that even small fragments were gathered up.

 

If you feel as though you aren’t being fed at the Lord’s Table, are you possibly refusing to hear all that Jesus has to say through scripture and the Church? We must not listen selectively; otherwise his message will make little sense. If you are in some way disappointed with Jesus or with his Church, be honest with yourself about the cause of your dissatisfaction. Before saying, “I wasn’t fed,” consider the nature of your hunger and your willingness to let Jesus feed you. After all, unlike the Atkins diet, Jenny Craig, Weight Watchers, or the South Beach diet, Jesus is offering us something no fad diet can do; the bread of life that promises us everlasting life.

If the Lord is my shepherd, am I a sheep? The image of a sheep is not a flattering one yet the bottom line is this; God knows that we need good shepherding to lead us through life. Otherwise, we can easily go astray. At every stage of life, we need direction. A child needs the guidance of a parent, students need the direction of a teacher, employees need the supervision of an employer, citizens need the vision of civic leaders from the White House down to city hall, and parishioners need the spiritual tutelage of good Church leaders from the Holy Father down to their pastors.

 

We have many leaders, but as Jeremiah observes in the first reading, not every shepherd is to be trusted. He quotes God as chastising the leaders of ancient Israel for leading the people astray.  “Woe to the shepherds who scatter the flock of my pasture. You have driven them away.”

 

You may think the message here is archaic but what we hear is a mirror of our times as well.  I think back to my childhood. The Pill hadn’t been invented yet, abortion wasn’t legal, and it was quite all right to pray in school assemblies. I never thought then that in the name of freedom, those shepherds, whom we call justices of the Supreme Court, would define a certain immorally gruesome act as legal and another morally wholesome act as illegal. What price are we paying as a nation when the unborn child is not given the freedom to live and we, the living, aren’t given the freedom to pray in public? We are paying dearly with sexual violence, domestic abuse, alcohol and drug addiction that result in broken families and destroyed lives.

 

God knows this brokenness results from following false shepherds who lead us astray with empty assurances. To Jeremiah, God promised to bring the scattered flocks back to their meadow by raising up a king who would govern wisely.

 

That promise was fulfilled when Jesus arrived on the scene. Calling himself the good shepherd, he could see that many in his midst were “like sheep without a shepherd; and he began to teach them many things.”  In his wake, Jesus left the Church to serve as our spiritual shepherd.

 

After 2000 years, one would expect the world to be in much better shape than it was in the days of ancient Israel but what Jeremiah described then is just as true today.  Sadly not all leaders shepherd well.

 

Which shepherds in our lives do we trust and really listen to? I would like to think that every Christian really listens to the wisdom of Jesus, the Good Shepherd, but that isn’t so. Otherwise, our churches would be overflowing with people following the advice in today’s gospel.  That to me is what Jesus had in mind when he invited his disciples to “come away by yourselves to a deserted place and rest.”

 

We live busy lives so Jesus is urging us to get away from the daily events of our lives and take time to rejuvenate our spiritual beings. Taking a break from our daily routine doesn’t mean filling the moment with leisure but finding tranquility and awe in the presence of God through prayer, not just here at Mass but also in solitude as well.

 

Thanks to cell phones, laptops, and the internet, many people find themselves working as the expression goes, 24 hours a day, seven days a week, even when they are not technically at work. That is a guaranteed formula for breakdown. Instead of mimicking the energizer bunny that keeps on going and going and going, we need to take time out to recharge our spiritual and emotional batteries.  We need to get in touch with the core of our being, especially with God who dwells there.

 

Blaise Pascal, a 17th century French philosopher, observed, “All the troubles of life come upon us because we refuse to sit quietly for awhile each day in our rooms.” We need a sanctuary in our lives. Some people find theirs early in the morning with a walk at dawn, in the garden, here at daily Mass, or alone in their bedroom or living room. One woman speaks of lighting a candle at night for 15 minutes and sitting quietly to “keep my sanity.”  Another one prays early in the morning with a cup of coffee before anyone else gets up.

 

One Jesuit offers this bit of advice, “Make your prayer simple, as simple as you can. Reason little, love much, and you will pray well.”

 

However and wherever we find this solitude, it is essential for our faith, just as sleep is for our good health.  If we would regularly make time for prayer and worship, we will find the grace we need to make the right choices for our daily journey.

 

Somewhere I read that a man without prayer is like a tree without roots. By choosing to dwell in the house of the Lord, we will stay on the right path. With God at our side to guide us, we need fear no evil, our faith will remain rooted and we will find ourselves truly rested.

“Alas!” the shepherd replied, “It is not easy to give directions for the forest is criss-crossed by hundreds of paths winding in every direction. They are almost all alike and with one exception, they all lead to the great abyss.”

 

“What is the great abyss?” the traveler asked. “It is the hole which surrounds the forest,” the shepherd replied. “Not only that, the forest is filled with robbers, wild beasts, and an enormous serpent, so scarcely a day goes by when we don’t find the remains of some unfortunate traveler. Still, you can’t get to your destination without passing through the forest, so I am here to direct travelers. I have also placed my sons throughout the forest to also help out.  I am ready to assist you if you so desire.”

The traveler accepted his offer. Holding a lantern with one hand, the shepherd took the traveler’s arm.  They then set out on their journey through the dark forest. When the lamp began to flicker, the traveler expressed his fear that they would soon be walking in darkness. “Don’t be afraid,” the shepherd said, “We will soon meet one of my sons and he can supply us with more oil.”

 

Just then, the traveler noticed a glimmer of light shining through the darkness. At the sound of the shepherd’s well-known voice, the cabin door swung open. The son welcomed them both into his home. After a meal and a chance to rest, the traveler continued on his journey, this time assisted by the shepherd’s son. They continued their journey through the night, stopping at different cabins. Each time, he was given a chance to rest and a new guide to continue his trek. When he arrived at the other side of the forest, the traveler noticed the huge hole.

 

“This,” the guide said, “is the great abyss, which my father spoke about. As he spoke, he heaved a deep sigh. “You seemed grieved,” the traveler replied.

 

“I am,” said the guide. “Every time I look into the abyss, I think of the countless travelers who have fallen into it. In vain, my father and my brothers offer our services. Few accept them and many of those after journeying with us for awhile then accuse us of needlessly alarming them, so they venture on their own. Sooner or later they lose their way and are devoured by the serpent, murdered by robbers, or fall into the abyss. You see, there is only one bridge across the great abyss and we are the only ones who know the way to this bridge. Pass over it with confidence now for the other side is your true home.”

 

To me, this tale suggests why Jesus sent the twelve apostles to preach a message of repentance, urging anyone who would listen to turn their lives around and take on a new direction in life to avoid falling into the great abyss.

 

How safely we navigate through life depends on the values we hold dear. As with anything else in life, we choose certain principles and reject others. From our experience and that of others, we also learn what can spell trouble for us.

 

Your very presence here suggests that you yearn to be a spiritual people, but few of us are as spiritual as we would like to be. Why’s that? Thomas Merton once said that the biggest spiritual problem of our time is efficiency, work and pragmatism; we are so business-like, we have little time and energy for anything else. Because of the choices we make, Fr. Ron Rolheiser observes that “we are more busy than bad, more distracted than non-spiritual, and more interested in the movie theater, the sports stadium, the shopping mall and the fantasy life they produce in us than we are in church.” He cautions that we can’t satisfy our spiritual yearnings so long as other things are more important for us than time with God.

 

We can become like the dog in a large crate on the platform of a railroad station. He was the saddest dog you can imagine. A lady asked about him. “You would be sad, too,” she was told, “if you were in his plight. He’s chewed the tag off his crate and doesn’t know where he’s going!” Do we?

 

That may be why Jesus told his disciples to travel so lightly. While it is not practical for us to literally travel from one place to another with nothing more than a walking stick, we can go through life with much less baggage than we tend to by letting go of that which impedes us from focusing on God, like our prejudices, consumerism, selfishness or even our fears.  Moved by the direction that only Jesus can offer, we should evaluate our priorities and make the changes in our lives that will keep us safely on the right path.

 

Like the apostles, we are being called by the good shepherd to show others the way home to God as well. The notion may seem intimidating but Thomas Merton makes this point, “It is very important to live your faith by confessing it, and one of the best ways to confess it is to preach it.”  Now, you may feel inadequate for that task yet St. Francis de Sales once said, “Whoever preaches with love, preaches effectively.” As the apostles have shown us, it doesn’t take a degree in theology to do that.