2019

It was said of Joseph Stalin that if you made one mistake it was like mishandling a detonator, for that was likely to be the last mistake you ever made. We too write at times people off due to a bad experience.  But which one of us would like to be judged for a single moment of our lives?

Think back to Holy Thursday evening, the setting in the courtyard. Peter is hunched around a fire along with others watching the spectacle unfold before them of Jesus being tried by the high priests. Others accused Peter of being one of Jesus’ disciples and three times he flatly denied the charge. When the cock crowed, Jesus turned and looked at Peter, who then wept bitterly for what he had just done.

Who would blame Jesus for writing Peter off as being weak, cowardly and unreliable? He had just set a terrible example for the other apostles. Yet, as we well know, Jesus did not write him off. He didn’t even demote him. Judas’ betrayal was a planned event, carried out in a cold calculating manner. Peter’s denial, however, was not planned; it was a result of weakness not malice. As one who could read hearts, Jesus knew that.

Now we find the two of them by another fire, this time at dawn on the shore of the Sea of Tiberias.  After a long night of fishing in vain, and ready to call it quits, Peter and his companions heeded Jesus’ instructions and threw their heavy net once more back into the sea and this time they were overwhelmed with a catch of 153 large fish. Upon recognizing Jesus, Peter climbed on shore for a conversation that changed his life.

After breakfast, Jesus turned to Peter and asked, “Simon, do you love me more than the others love me?” What a strange question to ask. Hadn’t he proved beyond a shadow of any doubt that he didn’t love him? After all, three times he had denied knowing the Lord. Yet Jesus asked him. “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” And Peter said, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” He sincerely meant that. He really did love Jesus.

Knowing that strength and weakness can co-exist in the same person, Jesus asked Peter to declare his love publicly since his denial had been in public. “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Again, Peter responded, “Yes, Lord, you know that I love you.” And once again, Jesus asked, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Distressed that he had been asked three times, Peter replied, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.”

Around this campfire, Jesus did more than feed Peter; he commissioned him. “Feed my lambs. Tend my sheep. Feed my sheep.” You could say that was Peter’s penance. Love is the best way to atone for sin. As Peter himself later wrote in his letter, “Love covers a multitude of sins.”

I doubt Peter never forgot the fact that he had denied Jesus yet I doubt it haunted him the way some people are haunted by their sins. Peter learned a great lesson from his fall. He learned that he wasn’t as brave as he thought he was.

Peter also learned a wonderful truth about Jesus. He learned that in spite of his denials, Jesus still loved him and kept no record of Peter’s sins. That love brought Peter back to life. To be loved in one’s goodness is no big deal but to be loved in one’s weakness and sinfulness is an amazing experience. That is what grace is all about.

Peter had the guts to get up again after his fall. As we heard in the first reading, he went on to become a dynamic leader. A leader has to be aware of his weakness. The experience on the beach that morning rid him of pride and enabled him to understand the weakness of others. As he learned, courage can fail us when we least expect. In the end, all of us can be inconsistent in our beliefs. Thus, we must learn to forgive ourselves for our momentary weaknesses and failures.

We are all like Peter. We are not the rocklike character that we would like to be. Instead we are weak at times. We need someone who can understand our weaknesses, and who doesn’t write us off when we fall short. Likewise, someone out there may need you to do the same when they are weak or struggling. We should be ready to extend the same understanding love towards others.

On Facebook, I recently shared this quote from Fr. Ron Rolheiser, who offers this pearl of wisdom, “The human heart is exquisitely fragile. Our judgments need to be gentle, our understanding deep, and our forgiveness wide.”

Jesus wasn’t speaking only to Peter. He is talking to us as well. Do you hear him with your heart? He is telling us, “If you love me, then feed my sheep! Tend my flock!”

We carry out his command as members of his Church. As individuals, as a parish, as part of the Church of Western Washington, we continue the work of Christ, using our time, talent and treasure to share the good news.  The Church in 172 vibrant faith communities tends his flock to build a future full of hope. Last year, we pledged $64,850. You made it possible in the past and I trust you will do so again through the ACA for this is one way we can say to the Lord, “Yes, Lord, I love you. You know that I love you.”

At the start of this century, Pope John Paul II named this day Divine Mercy Sunday at the urging of St. Faustina, a Polish nun and visionary who kept a diary during her short lifetime, which recounted hundreds of revelations about God’s mercy. She knew what it felt like to be away from God and how it felt to be close to God. At one point Jesus told her, “I will pour out a whole ocean of graces upon those souls who approach the fount of my mercy. Let no one fear to draw near to me, even though their sins be as scarlet.”

So what is mercy? The gospel gives us a clue when Jesus speaks of forgiveness; as C.S. Lewis notes, “the essential act of mercy was to pardon; and pardon in its very essence involves the recognition of guilt in the recipient.” Jesus gave the apostles the gift of forgiving sins to make us always mindful of God’s infinite mercy toward us.

Years ago, when I was a deacon, two grayed haired men warmly greeted each other in Tokyo’s International airport. Both men had tears in their eyes. One was an American; his name was Ponich. The other was Japanese; his name was Isibashi. The last time they had seen each other was in the closing days of WWII in a cave in Okinawa. At that time, the American, Sgt. Ponich, was holding a five-year old boy in his arms. The child had been shot through both legs. Isibashi was one of two Japanese snipers hiding in a dark corner of the same cave.

Suddenly Isibashi leaped from his hiding place, aimed his rifle at Ponich and prepared to fire point blank. There wasn’t a thing Ponich could do, so he simply put the boy on the ground, took out his canteen and began to wash the boy’s wounds. If he had to die, he thought, what better way to die than performing an act of mercy. The snipers watched in awe. Then slowly Isibashi lowered his rifle. Minutes later, Ponich did something that Isibashi never forgot. He took the boy in his arms, stood up, bowed in gratitude to the two Japanese soldiers and took him to the nearby field hospital.

How did they meet forty years later? In 1985 Ponich wrote a letter to a Tokyo newspaper, thanking the Japanese people for their two soldiers who had spared his life that afternoon in a dark cave in Okinawa. Isibashi read the article and contacted the newspaper, which set up their meeting that was long and affectionate.

Things could have turned out differently. The snipers could have shot Ponich. Or he could have kept his silence, but neither happened. They experienced mercy. And mercy is what we celebrate today. Divine mercy radiates throughout the gospel story.

In the gospel, our attention is drawn to Thomas, who understandably did not believe the news that Jesus had risen, but lets not overlook what Jesus told them in this appearance, “As the Father has sent me, so I send you. Receive the Holy Spirit. Whose sins you forgive are forgiven them, and whose sins you retain are retained.” His words are the biblical basis for our sacrament of reconciliation. Sadly, some of us ignore this advice, thus passing up the chance to truly experience God’s infinite mercy.

Jesus stood in their midst a week later and once again said, “Peace be with you.” That is something we continually yearn for and God knows it. The gospel speaks eloquently of God’s mercy for us sinners. Mercy offers us a culture of life.

By contrast, the past century could be described as a culture of death. From the holocaust of Nazi Germany to the recent bombing of churches in Sri Lanka, from the fears generated by racial prejudice to mass shootings across our country, we have many stark reminders that sin impacts our lives.

The dictionary defines mercy as “compassionate treatment toward those in distress.” It’s the kind of compassionate treatment Ponich showed to the wounded boy. It’s the kind of compassionate treatment the Japanese snipers showed to Ponich. The word compassion derives from the Latin word meaning to “feel with.” If you want to understand another person, you must crawl inside and walk around with them; to see through their eyes, and to feel with their feelings, which is what God endeavors to do with us.

Literally, Jesus came down to earth, climbed into our skin, and walked around in our shoes. Having experienced the full gamut of our human emotions, he now seeks to forgive us.

Keep in mind that no sin is beyond forgiveness. The beauty of God’s mercy is shown in the complete forgiveness of punishment; now, isn’t that awesome? In no uncertain terms, Jesus offers us a choice: his mercy or his just judgment for the reparation of our sins. Common sense suggests that we opt for his mercy. However, mercy is more than just a mood. Mercy is a way of life to gain peace that comes from loving God and one another. Jesus comes to extend his mercy, the same mercy we witness him giving to the apostles but in turn he demands that we do the same.

Opportunities abound for us, especially within our families, to show mercy to one another. God’s grace comes to those who have the courage to apologize and to those who extend forgiveness. Every act of forgiveness is a battle against evil. Vengeance, on the other hand, amplifies the power of evil, inspiring even more hatred. If we strive to be merciful like the Father, then we can count on God being merciful to us.

What do you suppose went through the minds of the women as they set out at dawn to go to the tomb? They were mourning, perhaps even wondering who could move the stone for them. They had accompanied Jesus since the days of his Galilean ministry, so full of hope that the kingdom of God was about to become real.

But now, all was lost, that dream was dead along with Jesus who had been cruelly crucified days before. Their world lay in ruins. There was nothing more to be done. Except if anything else, they must go to the tomb and anoint the body of Jesus properly, which they couldn’t do the day before because it was the Sabbath.

Undoubtedly, they were mystified to find the stone rolled away from the entrance. Things became more puzzling when they discovered that the tomb was empty. Before they could lament, “grave robbers!” they were astounded to encounter two men in dazzling garments, who told them something they never expected to hear. “Why do you seek the living one among the dead? He is not here, but he has been raised.” The living one, how can that be? He’s dead.

But he isn’t. He is risen! He is very much alive! That is the mystery we celebrate not just on Easter but daily on our faith journey. Yet like Peter, we are amazed at what happened.

The question asked by the men, who were angels, of the women on Easter morning could be asked of us every morning of our lives: why do we seek the living among the dead? In other words, why center our days on things of limited value when God’s love and grace abounds in our lives? Easter is God’s never-ending invitation to freedom, raising us up from our “tombs” of selfishness and fear, of anger and hatred to the fullness of new life.

In the light of Easter’s empty tomb, every moment of forgiveness, every triumph of justice over persecution, every insistence of goodness in the face of horrendous evil, every act of compassion, no matter how simple or small, proclaims the good news that Jesus Christ is risen and is very much alive. Yes, Jesus Christ is risen from the dead. Alleluia!

On this Easter, may we seek to bring such good news to the darkness and shadows around us; may we bury our own self-interests and wants for the sake of the greater good; may we allow ourselves to “die” in order that God may restore us to life in the wellspring of compassion and mercy that is found in the Risen Christ.

As Luke tells us, the women returned to tell the eleven apostles what they had seen and heard. Naturally their story sounded like utter nonsense. Wouldn’t you have thought the same had you been in their sandals? Believing that Jesus was no longer dead but risen did not come easily but seeing how the risen Christ had changed the lives of his followers enabled others to see that the living one has much to offer.

Jesus’ resurrection is the central truth of our faith. Had this not happened, we would not be here. Upon this event, all else depends: Jesus conquered death so that all might have life to the fullest. Can you imagine what it must have been like to have seen the risen Lord? How the men and women who were the first witnesses must have felt as this awesome truth became clear? The men in the empty tomb reminded the women, “Remember what he said to you while he was still in Galilee, that the Son of Man must be handed over to sinners and be crucified, and rise on the third day.”

Naturally, since they had never witnessed such an event until that morning, Jesus’ warning made little sense. He was known to have raise the dead literally to life on more than one occasion, but never did they expect to encounter the living Jesus once he had been taken down from the cross, yet soon they would and their lives were forever altered.

Can we say the same for ourselves? What good is the resurrection of Christ from the dead if today we do no more than call to mind what happened 2000 years ago? Luke wrote his gospel in part to encourage his readers to find evidence that Christ is still alive and at work in the world.

Just as those women were the messengers who conveyed the good news to the apostles that Christ was alive, as his followers, we must convey the good news that Christ is in our midst and at work in the life of every person in this time and place. Alas, so many of our brothers and sisters have become numb to the evidence all around them that Jesus Christ is risen. What we say and do could make a difference in helping them to see for themselves that the risen Christ continues to touch the lives of many here and now.

Our faith is based on the witness of those who saw Jesus after the resurrection. They had nothing to gain materially from the witness they gave and down through the ages many gave their lives in doing so, convinced that death had become a threshold to eternal life in God’s kingdom.

History demonstrates that death won’t miss anyone but Easter tells us that our physical death is not the end of us; that through Christ, life has conquered death. While the empty tomb proves nothing, the testimony of countless witnesses ever since has shown that the kingdom of God and the fullness of new life can be found when we focus on the words and deeds of Jesus Christ in the Gospel.

Homily for the blessing of the palms

Did you notice something strange about Luke’s version of Jesus’ entry into Jerusalem? No palms. Unlike Matthew and Mark in their accounts, Luke makes no mention of palm branches being waved or hosannas being sung by the onlookers. Instead, the crowds repeat the song of the angels at Bethlehem to welcome the newborn king, “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest.”

Instead of laying palm branches on the road, the people placed their single most important article of clothing…their cloaks along Jesus’ path. Chances are we own more coats and jackets than we can count, but in biblical times, the cloak was the most expensive article of clothing that a person possessed. Most people only owned one, which was constantly mended and rarely discarded. For the poorest of the poor, a cloak was more than an article of clothing…it was often their shelter and their home.

The crowds placed before Jesus what they treasured most. Placing their cloaks on the ground was the sort of thing that people did whenever an ancient king entered the city as an acknowledgement of their submission to his rule and his dominion over them.

We are about to enter the holiest week of the year. Notice that the people of Jerusalem empty themselves of their most precious possession to welcome into their midst the anointed one of God, the Messiah, and his reign of peace. In a few days, Christ will empty himself as well, first at the Mount of Olives where he prays fervently, “Father, if you are willing, take this cup away from me; still, not my will but yours be done.” Then hours later on the cross, after much scourging, he cried out in a loud voice, “Father, into your hands I commend my spirit.”

Jesus empties himself of his very divinity in obedience to the Father’s will that humanity should be reconciled to God through his passion.

To be disciples of Christ we need to put aside our “cloaks” of comfort and self absorption to embrace Jesus’ spirit of humility and selflessness, to “empty” ourselves of our pride and our wants to become God’s vessels of life and love.

We will leave here with palms; holding on to them links us with the crowds that welcomed Jesus into Jerusalem. But a few days later, that all changed when they insisted that he be crucified. Popular opinion certainly persuaded people to change their minds. The same is true today. We are here now to wave branches but will we be here in a few days?

Are we willing to surrender our most precious thing, namely our time, to be present to Jesus in the days ahead? As we venture into the holiest week of the year, are we willing to forgo our usual routine to journey with Christ from the Last Supper to his trial, then his scourging, his ordeal of carrying that cross, and finally his death?

I hope that your answer is a resounding “Yes!” Many times in his ministry, Jesus alluded to himself as the Messiah mostly in veiled terms, but on this day, he entered the city fully revealing himself as Christ the king, as the Messiah, as our savior. Let us then join the multitudes who once proclaimed, “Blessed is the King who comes in the name of the Lord. Peace in heaven and glory in the highest.” But unlike them, let us praise the King of Glory all the days of our lives.

 

Homily for the Passion

With great fanfare, the crowds welcomed Jesus into the holy city. Their expectationsran high that he would liberate them from the oppression of the Romans. “Blessed is the king who comes in the name of the Lord!” they proclaimed with great joy. But their joy was short-lived when they realized that this was not the Messiah they were expecting.

Within days, their great anticipation of a liberator soured. Given the chance by Pontius Pilate to free him, the crowds instead protested, “Crucify him! Crucify him!” The rumor mill had gone into overtime, circulating the allegations that this Jesus of Nazareth was nothing more than a charlatan, a man who claimed to be the Son of God.

How could they do such an about face? I cannot say, any more than I can explain why some of us have done the same thing. Many once familiar faces are now absent from the congregation for any number of reasons. Like the crowd in Jerusalem, perhaps their expectations weren’t being met.

As we start Holy Week, we ought to ponder what our expectations of Jesus Christ really are. What is he to liberate us from? Before we answer that question, though, think hard about what he did for you. He died on the cross.

The Romans performed crucifixions frequently so Jesus knew what was in store for him. The victim on the cross doesn’t bleed to death. As he weakens, he slowly suffocates. No wonder in the garden, Jesus begged, “If you are willing, take this cup away from me.” Who could blame him?

Fortunately for you and me, he followed not his will but his Father’s will to free us from the grip of sin. He suffered for the sinfulness of every person who has and ever will live. We mustn’t forget that.

In return, Jesus doesn’t expectus to experience the same excruciating pain but he does ask that we share in his suffering. He asks that we deny ourselves a few pleasures for the sake of others, which is why the Church has always encouraged us to give up something for Lent. “Have I sacrificed anything during this Lenten season as a sign of my gratitude for all that Jesus has done for me?” If your answer to that question is no, or not really much, then I ask you to do two things during Holy Week.

Take a Rice Bowl container home if you haven’t yet done so. I notice that there are plenty of them still available. Bring it back next Sunday on Easter or later filled with your donation to CCS that will enable others to simply eat. Fill it with your loose change or better yet with a generous check. Secondly, make some sacrifices; deny some of your usual pleasures, like TV or snacks so that this week isn’t like any other week to give yourself an inkling of his suffering. Come to at least one of the Triduum liturgies on Holy Thursday, Good Friday or the Vigil. As Jesus said 2000 years ago, “Not my will but yours be done.” Can we give God the same response?

As Luke revealed, not every one could; his narrative showed many divided hearts and loyalties. Only Jesus maintains control of his will until the end, firmly obedient to God and trusting in God’s promise. As his last hours unfolded, Jesus remained true to himself. He stopped the violence at the time of his arrest, he healed the innocent bystander, he continued to berate the religious leaders for their hypocrisy, he warned the women he met on the way to Calvary and he ministered to the thief being executed alongside him. In short, he emptied himself of his ego, of any need to be the greatest.

This is why God exalted him. Following his example of humble obedience to the Father, we can expect one day be with him in paradise too.

This gospel passage is full of questions; explicit questions asked and questions not asked that come to mind. If this woman was caught in the act of adultery, where was the man? Why wasn’t he captured? Did he run off or did they let him go scot-free?

This leaves me wondering if adultery is really the issue here or if the woman was just an easy target for the Pharisees, who were conniving to find a way to trap Jesus? In her shame and naked vulnerability, she is paraded through the streets and brought to Jesus. How will he react? Hoping to find something to use against him, the Pharisees presume that they have Jesus in a no-win situation. No matter what he says, so they think, he will not satisfy everyone.

Naturally, Jesus’ response is of great concern to the accused woman. Will he uphold the Law of Moses and thus allow her to be stoned to death? Or will he override that Law and spare her life? The suspense builds as he stoops down to write on the ground.

As is often the case when it comes to dealing with the Pharisees, Jesus turns the tables on them. They had made the woman the focus of attention, but standing up, Jesus makes them the focal point of the trial. He said to them, “Let the one among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her.” One by one, the onlookers slinked away.

The heart of the matter is not the sexual wrongdoing of the woman but the hypocrisy of the men accusing her. As she stood there in her shame, anticipating the horrendous fate of stoning by those nearby holding rocks and judging her, notice that Jesus kept his head down, writing in the sand for he doesn’t want to add to her shame. Only when they are alone, does he look at her.

In a brief conversation, made up of more questions, Jesus and the woman agreed that a sin was committed and the law had been broken, but Jesus doesn’t want the woman to be held hostage by it. “Neither do I condemn you,” he said, “Go, and from now on do not sin any more.”

There is a tendency in our society to deny that some things are sinful, such as shoplifting, lying, fornication, malicious gossip, or even abortion, but Jesus doesn’t deny the reality of sin. He knows that every sin has consequences and the potential to do much harm and destroy us, so he wisely counsels us too, “Go and sin no more.”Can we readily identify with the accused woman? Have we known the experience of shame and vulnerability? Have we had people point the finger at us? If so, then the message of the gospel and the healing and forgiving words of Jesus will have special meaning and appeal to us as well.

At the start of every Mass, we acknowledge that we are sinners in need of God’s mercy. But do we fully appreciate the enormous depth of God’s forgiveness? Whether our sins are big or small, mortal or venial, Jesus wants to restore our dignity and help us along the way. He is not in the business of stunting our spiritual growth and keeping us mired in guilt.

This gospel passage reminds us of God’s readiness to forgive sin, bind up broken lives, and restore people to his friendship. The Church has us focus our attention on the plight of the sinful woman because before God all of us stand silent in our sinfulness. Her story of sin committed and forgiven is not an isolated event but an example of the boundless mercy and compassion shown by Jesus to all sinners. The lesson is not that sin is unimportant but that God in his mercy extends pardon to the sinner.

Jesus’ offer of forgiveness and compassion to this publicly humiliated woman points to our call to be a forgiving people, committed to reconciliation. Yet many times we are as self-righteous as the Pharisees. There are times when we are only too ready to spread scandal with a bit of spicy gossip, impugning someone’s reputation. It is so easy to criticize and condemn others, thus act just as the Pharisees did.

Are there times when, we have been self-righteous at the expense of someone else’s dignity? Have we, in dealings with others, been hypocritical? If so, then the message of this gospel and the words of Jesus have significance for us.

The prayers of our liturgy constantly remind us that in the sight of God, we are equal and as such, we are brothers and sisters. We have a duty to care for one another, and that care includes generous and wholehearted forgiveness when the need arises. While we might dole out forgiveness gradually, Jesus blots out the whole debt of guilt all at once, provided that we seek his forgiveness with sincere contrition.

Granted, forgiveness isn’t always easy to express or do but if we are more apt to judge than to forgive, we run the risk of being hypocritical like the Pharisees. Thank God, Jesus’ response to sin is not to condemn, but to be generous in mercy, in the hope that we will see the errors of our ways and respond by going and sinning no more.

None of us can condemn another person as a sinner. When we do, we are really condemning ourselves. Now is the time to open our fists and let the rocks drop. The next time we find ourselves thinking thoughts that condemn someone, we might look for a way instead to extend our hands to the other person in compassion and mercy just as Jesus would