Thoughts on the month of May

The month of May, dedicated to Mary, begins with a feast in honor of Saint Joseph the Worker. At every Mass, in the commemoration of the saints, Mary and “blessed Joseph, her spouse,” are named together. This liturgical pairing reminds us that the mission of Saint Joseph, Guardian of the Redeemer and universal patron of the Church, is inseparably linked to the mission of the Blessed Virgin, the Mother of God.

Joseph’s place next to Mary in the Eucharistic Prayer highlights his closeness to her within the Holy Family and draws us into the incarnational mystery of God’s plan for our salvation. The Eternal Word takes flesh in the womb of the Virgin Mary and is nurtured, protected, and raised in Joseph’s home at Nazareth. Mary and Joseph, in distinct roles yet one household of faith, become humble servants of the Incarnation.

Since the mid-20th century, the Church has celebrated this dimension of Joseph’s life in the feast of Saint Joseph the Worker, established by Pope Pius XII as a response to May Day in communist countries. The intention was to reaffirm that ordinary human labor possesses dignity, because it participates in God’s own creative work. Joseph, a man of manual labor, knew the meaning of daily toil. Yet his greatest work was entrusted to him not in the workshop, but in the home of Nazareth: to care for and raise the Redeemer of the world.

God’s saving plan unfolds through the human family. It passes through the fiat of Mary and the quiet obedience of Joseph. That same plan continues in our lives—in our fidelity to daily responsibilities, patient work, and the hidden opportunities to love and serve God each day. So it is fitting that we begin the month of Mary under the patronage of her blessed spouse, the just man who draws us into the hidden life of Nazareth, where daily life is lived with Jesus at its center, as in the home of Joseph and Mary.

Fr. Richard Hermes, S.J.

Thoughts on betrayal

 

Fourth Week of Easter

John 13:16–20

Friends, in today’s Gospel, Jesus announces his betrayal just after transforming bread and wine into his body and blood. It is of great moment that, immediately after this extraordinary event, Jesus speaks of treachery: “The one who ate my food has raised his heel against me.” In the biblical reading, God’s desires have been, from the beginning, opposed. Consistently, human beings have preferred the isolation of sin to the festivity of the sacred meal. Theologians call this tendency the mysterium iniquitatis (the mystery of evil), for there is no rational ground for it. Therefore, we should not be too surprised that, as the sacred meal comes to its richest possible expression, evil accompanies it. Judas the betrayer expresses the mysterium iniquitatis with particular symbolic power, for he had spent years in intimacy with Jesus, taking in the Lord’s moves and thoughts at close quarters and sharing table fellowship with him—and yet, he saw fit to turn Jesus over to his enemies. Those of us who regularly gather around the table of intimacy with Christ and yet engage consistently in the works of darkness are meant to see ourselves in the betrayer. Bishop Robert Barron

Thoughts on listening

 

        “During the depression, a room was filled with applicants for a job opening as a telegraph operator. The drone of conversation competed with a steady flow of dots and dashes. The door opened and yet another applicant entered the room. He stood there for a minute, walked over to a door marked ‘Private,’ and knocked. A man

opened it and said to the others, ‘You may all go; we have our applicant.’ The others were furious and demanded

an explanation. The man said, ‘Listen!’ They did. The dots and dashes kept repeating over and over again,

‘If you hear this, come in; the job is yours.’”                                   [Mark Link, S.J., Action 2000, p.133]

                                                                                                          

           Because of today’s Gospel this 4^th Sunday of Easter is celebrated as Good Shepherd Sunday. The Good Shepherd still calls us, but like most of those telegraphers waiting to apply for the job, we usually are

not listening. Our world, our worries, our weariness all conspire to drown out the voice of God.

           All of us need to learn to listen more carefully: it’s good manners, and it’s good prayer.

So often we are the opposite of the young Samuel, who was taught by Eli, the high priest and judge of Israel,

to say, “Speak, Lord, your servant is listening.” (1 Samuel 3:1-18) We, in effect, often pray: “Listen, Lord,

your servant is speaking!”

           If we listen, we can hear the call of the Good Shepherd:

In quiet reflection; in sincere prayer; in Sacred Scripture; in the guidance of the Church; in the worthy reception

of the Sacraments; in the peace and beauty of Nature, art, music; in the voice of those we admire and respect;

in the silence of our heart and our conscience.

           And, if we listen, what will we hear Our Lord say?

• I created you, and I still hold you in existence.
• I have a plan for your eternal life and happiness.
• I know you better than you know yourself.
• I love you with a love beyond all imagining.
• I am with you always.

           But everything we may hear from Our Lord is not always consoling and inspiring; sometimes it must be           challenging:

• I will give you my grace, my Divine help, to break that sinful habit.
• I will help you to pray more, and be with you whenever you take the time to talk to Me.
• My grace is enough to help you change, as you know you should.

           Hearing Our Lord say these things consoles, inspires, and challenges us to follow the Good Shepherd in

our thoughts, words, and deeds.

           Sheep are not perfect: they are stupid, and they stray. Still, the Good Shepherd always seeks us and

draws us back, if only we will accept His infinite, perfect, eternal love.

           Good Shepherd Sunday is also World Day of Prayer for Vocations – specifically, religious and priestly vocations. More than ever, we need to encourage young people today (in this loud and distracting world)

to hear the call of the Good Shepherd to follow Him as a priest, deacon, or religious. 

           May we learn to listen and hear the call of the Good Shepherd in our lives. Also, may we pray that many young people today be like that clever telegrapher with the keen hearing. May they hear that God has a job for

them.



Fr. Don Saunders, SJ

Thoughts on the Ascension

 

Feast of Saint Mark, Evangelist

Mark 16:15–20

Friends, today’s Gospel gives us Mark’s very laconic account of the ascension: “Then the Lord Jesus, after he spoke to them, was taken up into heaven and took his seat at the right hand of God.”  Now, don’t literalize this language—there aren’t chairs in heaven—but take it very seriously indeed. What Mark is suggesting is that Jesus is now reigning; he’s in the attitude of a king on his throne. This means that he is directing the things of earth from his place in heaven. Again, don’t think of this spatially, as though heaven were a long way away. Think of heaven as a dimension that overlaps with earth, that impinges on earth.  And this is why the ascension forces us to come to grips with a key question: Whom do we finally obey? Whom do we finally serve? Who, finally, is the king of our life? We legitimately obey all sorts of figures—political, cultural, artistic, etc.—but there is always an ultimate king, someone (or something) from which we take our definitive marching orders. Bishop Robert Barron

More thoughts on the Eucharist

 

Third Week of Easter

John 6:52–59

Friends, in today’s Gospel, Jesus declares that “unless you eat the Flesh of the Son of Man and drink his Blood, you do not have life within you.” The talk that Jesus gave concerning the sacrament of his body and blood was quite literally revolting. It is a rather remarkable understatement when John writes, “The Jews quarreled among themselves, saying, ‘How can this man give us his Flesh to eat?’” So what does Jesus do when confronted with this objection? One would think that he would offer a metaphorical or symbolic interpretation of his words. Instead, he intensifies what he had said. How do we appropriate this shocking talk? We honor these unnerving words of Jesus, resisting all attempts to explain them away. We affirm the doctrine of “real presence.” Vatican II re-expressed the traditional Catholic belief when it taught that, though Jesus is present to us in any number of ways—in the proclamation of the Gospel, in the gathering of two or three in his name, in the poor and suffering—he is nevertheless present in a qualitatively different way in the Eucharist.  Bishop Robert Barron

Thoughts on the Eucharist

 

Third Sunday of Easter

Luke 24:13–35

Friends, in today’s Gospel, Jesus joins two disciples on the road to Emmaus, but they do not recognize him. In the course of their conversation, he opens the Scriptures to them, disclosing the great biblical patterns that make sense of the “things” they have witnessed. The interpretive key is none other than his own suffering and death, his willingness to go to the limits of godforsakenness in order to save those who had wandered from the divine love.           And through this process they begin to understand the Bible in its totality, and their hearts burn within them. The two disciples press him to stay with them as they draw near the town of Emmaus. Jesus sits down with them, takes bread, says the blessing, breaks it, and gives it to them—and in that moment they recognize him.          The ultimate means by which we understand Jesus Christ is not the Scriptures but the Eucharist, for the Eucharist is Christ himself, personally and actively present. The embodiment of the paschal mystery, the Eucharist is Jesus’s love for the world unto death, his journey into godforsakenness in order to save the most desperate of sinners, his heart broken open in compassion. Bishop Robert Barron

Thoughts on water

 

Second Week of Easter

John 6:16–21

Friends, in today’s Gospel, Jesus demonstrates his authority over nature by walking on the sea. Water is, throughout the Scriptures, a symbol of danger and chaos. At the very beginning of time, when all was a formless waste, the Spirit of the Lord hovered over the surface of the waters. This signals God’s lordship over all of the powers of darkness and disorder. In the Old Testament, the Israelites are escaping from Egypt, and they confront the waters of the Red Sea. Through the prayer of Moses, they are able to walk through the midst of the waves.  Now in the New Testament, this same symbolism can be found. In all four of the Gospels, there is a version of this story of Jesus mastering the waves. The boat, with Peter and the other disciples, is evocative of the Church, the followers of Jesus. It moves through the waters as the Church will move through time. All types of storms—chaos, corruption, stupidity, danger, persecution—will inevitably arise. But Jesus comes walking on the sea. This is meant to affirm his divinity: Just as the Spirit of God hovered over the waters at the beginning, so Jesus hovers over them now.  Bishop Robert Barron