Year C

Dec 10 2024

Resurrection, in Spite of Us

Easter comes once a year. Yet in April of 2020, it didn’t seem to come at all. We were locked down from the COVID-19 pandemic; many, many were dying, dying alone. There were no liturgies at which to gather, no trumpeted alleluias, no family feast at the dining room table. I had been sick for weeks. My lungs still burned. I ate dry toast and watched Mass on my phone by myself at the kitchen table. It was an Easter morning of emptiness.

Mary of Magdala felt even more empty. She had a hollow cave in her heart that morning as she trudged toward the tomb. When she got there, the body was gone. “They” had taken the Lord, stolen the corpse of Jesus. The tomb was empty. Hollow. Gone.

When the Beloved Disciple entered the tomb, he saw that emptiness differently. What did he see that stirred him to rejoice? What made his chest to swell with confidence? We don’t know. But faith bubbled up within him. He saw. He believed. He rejoiced. In spite of the apparently hollow circumstances, God gave him this inner conviction: Jesus had risen from the tomb. Jesus was raised to new life. He knew!

I went out to my garden on that desolate Easter morning. The sun was shining. The air was warm. The birds were singing. The richness of spring was rising from the emptiness of winter. No matter how I felt inside, new life was swirling around me. My personal abyss was like a tiny island within a vast ocean of abundance. Resurrection was happening, going on in spite of me. The heavens still sang with alleluias—“Jesus is risen!” The angels still answered with joy, “He is risen indeed!”

What is happening with you on this day in 2022? No matter what, happy Easter!

Consider/Discuss

Human experience can feed faith—we can be lifted along by beautiful liturgy and the camaraderie of faith-filled friends. But there are other times, somehow, in the midst of desolation or pain or emptiness, that faith bubbles up anyway. We are flooded with belief. How does that happen? We don’t know. It’s a mystery. That inner certainty is a gift. Have you tasted it, even a tiny taste? What is it like to experience that inner assurance of faith as a gift from God?
Human life is full of big and small crucifixion moments. Human life is full of big and small resurrection moments. The glory of the Paschal Mystery is that there is One who transforms that darkness into light, that sorrow into joy, that hopelessness into hope. By the grace of God, we keep on making it through. Easter doesn’t just come once a year after all—Easter alleluias swirl round us all the time, for Jesus has entered into our abyss and has lifted it to new life. On this Easter Sunday, for what do you praise God today? Out of what darkness has the Son of Man lifted you to new life?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord, the brightness of each new day is surrounded by your glory. The alleluias of your resurrection are deeper and more real than I can ever perceive. Give me your confidence, your blessed assurance, your joy, that even my darkest moments have been redeemed by you. Jesus, you are here; you are risen; you are alive; you are with me. This is the reality that is the firm basis of my life. Even when my earth-bound experience does not feel it, your gift of heaven-sent faith reveals otherwise. Thank you for health. Thank you for friends. Thank you for hope. Thank you for resurrection life. Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Dec 10 2024

Scripture Study for

In the coastal town of Caesarea lived a Roman named Cornelius who was “devout and God-fearing.” He had received a vision from God, instructing him to summon Peter, who, for his part, has been instructed by God to go (10:1–33). His speech is the kerygma in a nutshell: Jesus was anointed by God to go about “doing good and healing.” Nevertheless, he was condemned to death. Yet God raised him from the dead, after which he appeared to witnesses who could testify with certainty that his resurrection was real. Peter affirms that Jesus’ mission is being extended through himself and others, who are preaching in order to bring God’s forgiveness of sins to everyone— Jew or Gentile—who believes (trusts) in Jesus.

Colossians reminds the baptized that, like Christ, they have died to earthly things, those aspects of the world that are opposed to Christ. Now “raised,” believers actually live “above” with Christ, and must act accordingly. When Christ appears again, this new life, now “hidden” (accessible only by faith), will be revealed in all its glory. Paul’s exhortation to the Corinthians has a simple point: you are now new people in Christ, so act like it. In preparation for Passover, all yeast and leavened bread is cleared out of the house; after the feast new leavened bread is prepared. The Corinthians have failed to do the necessary “house cleaning” both in their own hearts and within their community and are therefore not properly celebrating the Paschal feast, begun with the sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb.

When Mary Magdalene sees the empty tomb, she thinks at first that perhaps Jesus’ body has been stolen. The Evangelist spends some time, however, describing the empty linens, something thieves would not take the time to leave behind. We remember that when Lazarus (who would die again) was raised, he came forward in his linens. Jesus, who will not die again, has left the linens, like death itself, behind. When the Beloved Disciple sees the empty tomb and the linens, he believes that Jesus has been raised from the dead, not stolen, but he does not yet fully comprehend the meaning of the Resurrection. Understanding only comes when one encounters the resurrected Lord.

Dec 10 2024

Scripture Study for

Scripture makes it clear that serving God almost inevitably brings hardship, rejection, and pain. Moses experienced it, as did Jeremiah and other prophets. People are often resistant to seeing the world from God’s perspective and living accordingly because it involves conversion and sacrifice. In this respect, Israel was no different from anyone else. In this passage from Isaiah, God’s servant experiences that typical rejection, even though he is speaking a word to the weary. The fact that he is bring good news to the people does not protect him from their violence. Yet the servant remains faithful, firm in his trust in God and sure of the divine goodness of his mission.

In his letter to the Philippians, Paul addresses a tendency among this community to seek their own interests or form “parties,” forgetting that they are all of to be “of the same mind, with the same love, united in heart” (2:2). They can do no better than to look to Christ himself as a model of humility and selflessness. It was Christ who, rather than relying on his “equality with God,” humbled himself, undergoing a shameful and painful death for the good of others. It was Christ’s humble love and obedience to God’s will for all creation that led to his glorification by God, who established him as Lord of all in heaven and on earth. In the same way, the Philippians should “shine like lights in the world” (2:15) by imitating the humble Christ who served others rather than himself.

Two unique aspects of Luke’s Passion account, both at the Last Supper, are worth briefly mentioning. The first is the placement of the quarrel among the apostles about who is the greatest. In the context of the Last Supper, the argument takes on a particular poignancy as Jesus prepares to perform his greatest act by becoming the least. There remains among the apostles, even now, a failure to grasp what Jesus is about. Shortly after this, Jesus warns the disciples that going forward they will need to carry protection (swords) because they will be “counted among the wicked [Jesus].” In response, someone points out there are two swords in the room already, after which Jesus abruptly ends the dinner (suggesting that perhaps he was speaking truthfully about the danger but not literally about the swords?). The warning here is that, far from being regarded as among the greatest, the apostles will be condemned and threatened for even speaking Jesus’ name. There will be no glory for the followers of Christ, only danger and misunderstanding.

Dec 10 2024

Jesus “Goes Low”

When I was about five years old, I remember trying to lift my dad’s bowling ball. I put my middle two fingers and my thumb into the holes of the ball and pulled up. It would not budge. My wrist hurt. Then I remembered my dad say, about lifting something that was heavy, “Go low.” So I stretched out my hands to get under the ball in order to lift it. It rolled to the right on the rack. I just missed smashing my little finger. I was small. The ball was heavy.

As I read today’s story of Jesus’ passion and death, it weighs heavily, like a bowling ball in my heart. What more can be said? Jesus died. Words feel too light, more like tossing around a ping-pong ball.

At the meal, the disciples are bouncing about as they argue about who will be the greatest. They are buoyant: they still see palm branches—Jesus is famous—we are important! They do not get the weight of what Jesus is saying. His words do not fit with their ebullience. The Son of Man must suffer in order to redeem the world. What is he talking about?

Jesus knows. It weighs on him in the garden. He allows himself to be humbled as much as a human being possibly can be humbled: shamed by a flogging; hung on a cross with the despicables outside the city walls. He is left to die, a nobody. Nowhere. Not important.

On the cross, Jesus “goes low.”

He stretches out his arms to get underneath the ball of the world, in order to lift it, to set it free. He redeems it all, no matter how sordid, no matter how heavy, no scrap left out. The weight is heavy. The weight is lifted.

Consider/Discuss

You and I, we are too small to lift the weight of the pain and suffering, the injustices and hardness of heart of the human race. We need a Savior. Holy Week is a good time to ponder the weight that Jesus carried. We will move liturgically through each moment of Jesus’ humiliation. Can you feel as he felt, pray as he prayed, move as he moved? What is it like to go that low?
How do we carry the weight of our own lives? Sages of the ages tell us that we can suffer selfishly—rebel and complain—and thus shift our own burdens to others. Or we can “go low,” bearing with our suffering as Jesus did, so that the burden may be easier for others. What does it mean, on a daily basis, to share in the sufferings of Christ, to be like him in bearing one another’s burdens?

Living and Praying with the Word

Jesus, this feels like foolishness. Emptying yourself, taking the form of a slave, becoming obedient to the point of death—how does that work? Why did you do that? If you were God, you could have come down from that cross and smashed the lights out of all of those politicians who maneuvered you toward death. Yet you didn’t.

We are small; we don’t really get it. We still frolic about as though this core of Christianity, this Paschal Mystery that “you died because you love us,” was a light little plaything: something that we have heard before, something that we just say, something that we take for granted. Deepen our understanding of what it means to walk the way of the cross, so that when we come to Easter, we see how much you have lifted for us. You died because you love us. Show us this week, Lord, what that really means.

Dec 10 2024

Circling for the Kill

I drove past an intersection where a group of crows were picking at a carcass on the road. It reminded me of the scribes and Pharisees, hovering around the woman caught in adultery. She was dead meat to them, bait, used to test Jesus.

Who was she? What was her life like, such that she was willing to risk death by seeking comfort in another man’s bed? We don’t know. Jesus didn’t fall for the test. We don’t know what he wrote in the sand, but somehow he reframed the story. How? Maybe a clue comes in how often this reading uses the word “one.”

Jesus singled the “crows” out, one by one, and challenged them: Who will be the first to throw a stone? You? Or you? Or you? One by one, they went away, beginning with the eldest.

Jesus didn’t treat the woman as carrion—he saw her. He straightened from the ground. He looked her in the eye and asked, “Has no one condemned you?” “No one,” she said.

Judgment changes when it sees “the one.” Jesus shifted the condemnation of the group to the mercy extended to “the one.”

Have you ever judged someone and then later you heard their whole story? It sets you back with an “Oh” and an “Oops.” Accurate understanding is the first step in right judgment. This is the key to God’s mercy—God knows our story, inside and out. You and I, we are not a part of a crowd; each of us is “one,” unique in God’s eyes. We matter to God.

This unnamed woman mattered. Jesus scraped her off the road and brought her back to life, to set her on a new path. He delivered her from death.

Perhaps she then began to sing, “The Lord has done great things for me—I am filled with joy!”

Consider/Discuss

Have you ever wondered about the youngest “crow,” the Pharisee who left last? Did he consider himself righteous and without sin? Did he walk away still hefting a rock in his left hand? As we move toward Holy Week, what are you and I not seeing? Ask the Holy Spirit to reveal to you where your heart is still hardened. Is there one for whom you still hold a rock in your hand? How could you retell that person’s story as “one” whom Jesus loves? And then forgive, in this week before Easter?
Two thousand years later, there are people who are still dismissed as dead meat. Why is there hardness of heart in cultures, in families, in governments, and in places of employment? What can you and I do to help the unseen be seen, to foster justice, to help the “whole story” to be told?

Living and Praying with the Word

Lord, you know each of our stories. You know our whole story. Help us to see that each person we meet is your unique “one.” A baby born in a refugee camp in Syria is precious in your eyes. A starving girl in South Sudan is “one” to you. A heroin addict living in a doorway in downtown Detroit is irreplaceable in your vision. You call us to become like you; we are never done learning to see as you see. Show us how to be “one” who can help.