Fr. Adam Patras, OSB - celebrant
13th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Fr. Tom Hillenbrand, OSB - celebrant
Nativity of St. John the Baptist
Isaiah 49:1–6
Acts 13:22–26
Luke 1:57–66, 80
When we first hear this story of John the Baptist’s birth, we easily recognize the main characters: namely Zechariah, Elizabeth and, of course, their newborn child whom they name John. Indeed these people stand out. But if we listen closely we will hear also what the film world calls the supporting actors. It might be well to remember that in some cases the supporting actors get the reward. Among the supporting actors today are the neighbors and relatives of Zechariah and Elizabeth. And perhaps they give us a real clue as to what is happening in the story. And perhaps they are our entrance into the story. After all, we are not John nor his parents. But today we are those who are present to the events.
Unknowingly perhaps, it is the neighbors and relatives who give the real title to the story. They recognize that this is a story of mercy. They hear in this birth story that God has shown mercy to the aging Elizabeth. And this brings them joy. What are we about on this birthday but recognizing that the mercy of God has broken into the world. It has appeared in an unlikely place. It has come at the end of a couple’s life, not in their first fervor of love or youth. It has come when we would all say it is impossible. God’s mercy has arrived in the midst of a life time of shame for Elizabeth…her identity on the outside is as a barren women, passed over by others. Perhaps even been considered cursed. Now God has shown his face and she has given birth to a son.
God’s mercy comes at a time and a situation when we least expect it. We must give credit to these supporting actors. They hear and confirm that God’s mercy is visible and they give us the model of response to this mercy: rejoicing. They set the tone for the event. This is a day of joy. It may look simple and even backwater..an old woman in the hill country gives birth to a son when nature and humans have said impossible. They are happy for her. Being happy for someone else’s blessing, how wonderfule.
For you and I this birth is part of the great story of God being faithful to his covenant. God’s fidelity looks like love shown in dire straits. And we, we rejoice at this visibility of God’s love. This child means that God can transform a dying age and bring new life out of it. Our God’s mercy is precisely at work when things look the worse and even when we neighbors and relatives have written people and situations off, as dead ends. But John comes as a sign that says, yes, I am the last of the prophets because a new age has come, a new prophet is coming. I may be the last but the last will usher in the first, the new. The last is not without fidelity, patience and hope. It is out of the last, the end of the line that a new beginning is created.
But the neighbors and relatives also don’t quite get the whole picture. Yet, their role is to provoke the main characters of Elizabeth and Zachariah to open their mouths and speak. They push them to identify what is really happening here. When all is said and done, it is their child at the center of the stage. And these old people, they know who this child is. Neighbors and friends what to give a name to the child that corresponds to tradition. They want the child to be the next of kin; they want to make sure that the child is part of a human family no matter how miraculous his birth. But the quiet and reticent old man breaks his silence. He speaks what he knows. So he and Elizabeth complete what the neighbors intuit. They speak the name; they give identity to this child: John is his name.
In the name of the child is the name of God and who God is and what God does. John means “God is gracious”. The child’s identity is given by God, it is a revelation of who God is and what God does. God’s graciousness, God’s love and kindness has begun to enter into the world. John the Baptist is the precursor of God’s final act of love to come in his Son. But today God lets us know that light is shining in the darkness of the world; it comes like first rays.
When Zechariah does break his silence, he tells us very poetically what is happening in this apparently insignificant birth in the hill country. We know his words so well because we sing them every morning: The tender compassion of our God is dawning, breaking upon us. It will shine where there is darkness and death. God’s compassion is dawning so that you and I can rise and walk. The light is coming so that the way of forgiveness and peace open up for us. Our fears are laid aside to hear and find the graciousness that is being born each day. The name of the child heralds a new view of the world and of our God in that world. No wonder Zechariah says, “Blessed be God.”
~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB
12th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Mk 4:35-41
Job 38:1, 8-11
2 Cor 5:14-17
Focus: Jesus accompanies us on the journeys of our life. Whatever the chaos and the storms are in our lives, we are called to faith that He is Lord in the midst of it all.
It was over 20 years ago that I went on pilgrimage to the Holy Land, but some moments are still vividly on my mind, among them my early morning walk along the Sea of Galilee’s shore when the sun was just rising over the quiet lake.
Another wonderful memory was the boat trip across the lake. In these quiet moments many of Jesus’ words came to my mind that he spoke on the lake and by its shore.
Many people in the towns by the lake live on the fishing industry; they did then and they do today. When Jesus spoke, he made reference to the lake, to the land around it and to the people who lived in the region. He used Peter’s boat as a pulpit when the crowds became too large, and he crossed the lake many times—no doubt with Peter as his captain.
In today’s gospel, Jesus suggests to his disciples that they cross the lake to the other side. The sun has set; soon it will be night. The crowds are left behind. The lake is normally calm, but because of its position—about 700 feet below sea level—sudden storms can occur on it, which sweep down from the surrounding hills and whip up the water.
That’s what happens in today’s Gospel: The weather changes rapidly; and the waves break into the boat so that it starts to fill. In the midst of this chaos Jesus, who must have been tired from a long day of ministry, is fast asleep on the small bench at the back of the boat, his head resting on a cushion. The disciples rouse the Lord in extreme desperation and say, “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” Jesus, roused, remains calm and commands the sea to be quiet. After rebuking the storm, Jesus rebukes the disciples for their large fear and their small faith.
Today’s first reading gives us a hint as to how this story has meaning for us today. Life had dealt Job a number of terrible blows: He has lost his property, his family, and finally his health. Job complains to God, but holds on to his trusting faith in God. God does not give a direct answer as to why he had to suffer all this; but God asks, “Who shut within doors the sea … who set limits for it …?” In other words: This earth is my creation. I am here. I am still in charge. Bad things may happen to you, but I haven’t forgotten you.
This passage also shows us who Christ is for us. Once, in the beginning, God has brought forth creation out of the waters of chaos. Christ can do what God does: still the “proud waves” of the sea—even today. Christ can order the waters of chaos within us, he can bring about peace in us and in our lives.
My sisters and brothers, Jesus accompanies us, too, on our life’s journeys as he did with the disciples in the boat as they crossed the Sea of Galilee. Whatever the chaos and the storms are in our lives, we are called to faith that he is Lord in the midst of it all.
In today’s second reading, St. Paul adds to this message: Christ has already done so much creative work in us! In him and through our baptism, we are a new creation. Evagrius Ponticus, the writer among the desert fathers, the early Christian monks who lived in the deserts of Egypt and Palestine,
considers this line of St. Paul a remedy against sadness: “Whoever is in Christ is a new creation. The old things have passed away; behold new things have come.” This can be a good prayer word for us, too, when we fall back into old, unhealthy patterns of thought or behavior: Christ has begun to make us new. He can help us to leave behind what isn’t good for us and what obstructs our freedom. Whoever is in Christ is a new creation. The old things have passed away; behold new things have come.
Storms are unavoidable in our lives: difficult people with whom we work or live, illness, the death of loved ones, trouble due to personal weaknesses or sinfulness…The comment of the disciples when Jesus has stilled the storm is another prayer word that helps me in such situations: “Who is this whom even wind and waves obey?” There is One who can restore the inner calm.
And here is a third line that we heard this morning, which has frequently accompanied me in the course of my day, now again from St. Paul: “The love of Christ impels us.” Because of God’s love that became so visible and tangible in Jesus Christ, I can no longer live for myself. I must imitate him in doing good. This is crucial, too, for my becoming NEW, for your becoming new, ever more completely, through and in Christ. The love of Christ impels us to think, to talk and to act as he did.
AMEN.
~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB
11th Sunday in Ordinary Time
Ezekiel 17:22–24
2 Corinthians 5:6–10
Mark 4:26–34
Today we slip back into Ordinary Sundays as we call them. Along with this, we return to our Sunday reading of the Gospel of Mark. Today we find ourselves at the very end of Chapter 4. This chapter is a collection of various parables. We hear Jesus coming to the conclusion of his speaking to the crowds and the disciples in this manner. All of the parables in the chapter come from the farming and agricultural world. Jesus recalls the sower, the seed and the soil and the growth process in their interaction. Each time he focuses on some aspect of the process.
We need to recall the last lines of Jesus today. He chose to speak to the people in parables. But with his own circle of disciples he took time to open them further. The parables look like they are pointers on how to plant and what to expect. But we realize that they are really about the Kingdom of God. Jesus and his audience were familiar with planting from the seed dropped into the soil to the harvest. What was new was Jesus proclamation of the Kingdom of God. That is more elusive that planting a seed, but it is just as real. Jesus choses the familiar world of planting to introduce an unfamiliar world of the Kingdom.
We, too, need to know something about the world of a parable. At first glance, it may look like a little story about some human experience. And it is; but inside it is really pulling us into a different world that Jesus calls the Kingdom of God. A parable is not just some neat story. It is meant to bring together the familiar and the unfamiliar. But the unfamiliar is in reality bigger than the stuff in the little story. What the story describes is “like” the Kingdom of God. The parable is not always clear at first sight and it is not meant to be. The Kingdom of God cannot be contained in the mustard seed and it cannot be contained in the natural growth process but the Kingdom is “like” both…Parables depend on our imagination. They tease us and call us to see more than what is there. A parable does not really explain anything; that would be rational. Rather it opens up possibilities and invites us into them. It is always best not to make different elements in the parable mean only one simple thing. It can mean many things. And the meaning will grow as we grow in in our human experiences.
In both parables today there is a definite growth process. And in both parables there is a sense of mystery as to how this happens. If a farmer or a gardener were to plant a seed and then go each day and uncover the soil to see what happening down there, the seed would not germinate. But if the gardener lets the seed and soil and water work while the gardener is carrying on with life, the process takes place. We might be trying to watch or control our own growth process—analyze it, dissect it and in general be in charge over it. Nothing much will happen. The parable says that the gardener does what he or she can but then lets the seed go to work. And Jesus says, “he does not know how.” Perhaps that is the catch. There is a mystery in how God works with us human beings. Once the seed of the Word is planted in our hearts something will happen; Jesus assures us of that. The seed of the Word might look like we do all the work with it, but in the Kingdom, God is part of that process of growth. We have to allow God to work the mystery of his life within us.
Life in the Spirit does not always go on or work out on our time framework. Or the results may not look like what we expect. If we are standing in the Kingdom world then we ought to let mystery into our lives so that the growth we desperately want will actually occur. If we are not living from the Kingdom perspective then we might judge others when we see growth in the Spirit not going fast enough. Or even we might dare to judge it is not growth because we are applying our categories of growth to that person or to ourselves. The parable reminds us that spiritual growth is a process and that God and the Spirit are part of that growth. And the parable asks us if we can admit that there are some elements of our own lives as well as those of others that “we do not know how.” There is mystery in our lives. Parables affirm what we might know, but they also challenge us to the mystery that lies in the Kingdom.
One aspect of the Kingdom’s mystery is really rather old when we listen to God’s story of interaction with his people. We like things big. This is the Kingdom of God, so it must be big, grand and popular, right from the start. But our God does not work that way. He is not about planting fully-grown trees. No, he starts with what is small. Ezekiel sees God replanting his people symbolized in the tree. But he doesn’t start with the mighty cedar, he starts with a twig. This, in time and with care, will grow. Jesus says that the Kingdom, which implies in human terms something rich, famous, grand and visible, this Kingdom really starts with the smallest of all seeds. Then from the smallest, shall we say in terms of people, the weakest, the marginal, the impossible, comes what God wants, arises God’s Kingdom, his way of life.
And what does God want? Well, at least we can use our imagination and see that in the mustard seed become the largest of plants; we can find birds of the sky making a home within it. Does this mean that the Kingdom is a community, a flourishing plant or tree, that stretches out branches to hold and shelter all kinds of people? What can this image say to us of the kind of Church, the Body of Christ, that the Father is cultivating? Is it perhaps a community that is open to holding the rich variety of human beings that inhabit our home, the earth? If this is so, then the harvest will be great indeed for the variety and diversity of the members of humanity is really beyond our comprehension. It is hard to imagine such a Church. But yet, hidden in the mustard seed and seen as our God sees it, it is possible and Jesus assures us it will happen. Why? Because it is about the mystery of the Kingdom, a mystery that leads us into what at first we do not see or even imagine.
Paul says today we walk by faith. Jesus comes and speaks in parables. These tease our faith. What is familiar but seems insignificant, weak or even ignored becomes, when seen in the Kingdom, a new and marvelous world. We can enter into the Kingdom world and follow its vision only if we walk by faith.
Our gardener God is always sowing seed where he wills. The Spirit blows and we do not know where it comes from or where it is going. But what we can do is enter into the mystery of the growth process of a little seed and the gentle breath of the Spirit. Jesus says over and over again, if you have ears, listen to the Word. The mystery begins its work when we listen to the parable.
~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB
Solemnity of the Most Sacred Heart of Jesus
Hosea 11:1, 3–4, 8c–9
Ephesians 3:8–12, 14–19
John 19:31–37
Most pictures of the Sacred Heart emit a sort of warm glow. Jesus’ heart is open, his face is inviting and we are pulled into the burning warmth of his heart. In contrast, the description of the death of Jesus in today’s feast day gospel reminds us of the stark reality of the crucifixion. John leaves us in no doubt that we are facing a Jesus who has died; his body has been pierced with a soldier’s lance to make that perfectly clear. But John makes us linger at the cross and look at the one who has been pierced.
There is death here but there is more. For those who look on this death and hear the gospel writer’s words there does open up a new level of meaning. John gives us two symbols of Jesus death. In this way, his death begins to reveal itself in all its depth. On Good Friday there was little time for us to gaze and ponder. We had to bury, to complete the process of death. But today is the day to take time to look with the evangelist and see what he sees.
The first symbol is simple enough. The bones of Jesus are not broken. Breaking the bones of a crucified person expedited the death. Jesus is different. Jesus has said that he lays down his life of his own accord. No one takes it from him. Jesus accepts death as his mission. He accepts it in obedience to what the Father asks of him. Jesus’ bones do not need to be broken. He died out of love for his Father. You and I did not take his life from him despite what it looks like. And, when John references scripture in regard to non-broken bones, he is pulling us into the mystery of the Paschal lamb. It was to be eaten whole and no bone was to be broken. Jesus is the Lamb of God whose unbroken bones take away the sins of the world. The death of Jesus means reconciliation with God for all humanity. In this lamb Jesus on the cross, God has brought together the divine and the human. The whole Lamb means the unity of the relationship you and I have with the Father. Jesus death brings about unity in relationship. Death looks like separation from our point of view; in Jesus it means a unity restored. Jesus’ final prayer for unity is being answered.
The second symbol is that out of a dead man’s side blood and water are coming forth, like a spring. The body instead of holding death is emitting life through two powerful symbols, water and blood. We are with the woman of Samaria at the well: Jesus offering her the spring of water gushing into eternal life. We are at the last supper: whoever eats my flesh and drinks my blood will have eternal life and I will raise them up on the last day. This is my blood that will be poured out for you and for the many.
Christians from early on have always seen in the water and blood the symbols of baptism, Spirit and Eucharist. Where do they come from, how are they given to us: in the death of Jesus. His death is life-giving. When Jesus appears after the resurrection, what does he show his disciples but his wounds. These wounds are the source of our new life. His pierced heart holds the profound mystery of our Christian faith. Pierced to make certain that he is dead, it opens up into life for us here and now. It is life in the Spirit that is hidden on the cross but by the gesture of a non-believer reveals what is truly within.
Today we gaze upon the unbroken body of Jesus and a pierced heart. But ours must be more than a gaze. For the Eucharist is a here and now event. At every Eucharist, the death of Jesus is opened and life is revealed. We share the bread and drink from the cup, yes. And then slowly our lives are transformed by this to become a washing of one anothers feet and a laying down freely of our lives that others too may enter into eternal life. For what is hidden behind this death with unbroken bones and blood, water and finally Spirit is a body filled with love. It is this body of love that is to be the foundation of our lives. And our Eucharist is where the heart of Jesus satisfies our longing for love.
Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB
Corpus Christi Sunday
Fr. Volker Futter, OSB - celebrant
Holy Trinity Sunday
Fr. Thomas Hillenbrand, OSB - celebrant
Pentecost Sunday - 2021
Fr. Adam Patras, OSB - celebrant
7th Sunday of Easter
Jn 17:11b-19
Acts 1:15-26
John 4:11-16
Focus: Jesus desires our unity and our connectedness with him.
Function: Through his Holy Spirit, he empowers and enables us to be his witnesses.
Dear brothers and sisters in the faith,
A journalist writes about his visit in a high security federal prison: I saw the tired, expressionless faces of the prisoners who walked around in pairs in the inner courtyard, one group ten steps behind the next. “There are quite a number of gifted people among them,” the guard said who accompanied me with his large key chain. “The short one over there for instance paints great pictures!” Then in the office he showed me a painting in vivid colors: twelve men gaze upward with a startled look, their hair disheveled by the wind, their faces bathed in shining light, their eyes wide-open and unusually big. The guard remarked, “He calls this picture Pentecost. He did is for our prison chapel. But they don’t allow him to put it up because he only painted other inmates,
actually the worst ones, the real criminals!”
Later I could talk with the artist. “I find your picture exiting,” I began, “But why did you paint inmates? The folks of the first Pentecost were all converted people!” He responded somewhat exited, “At Pentecost everything changed, though! The pious ones don’t need this insight so much.
But one had to show to those who have given up on themselves that a new beginning is possible,
that through this power sinners can be turned around radically!” I did not let up: “But why did you pick out the worst of your fellow inmates?”
“Pentecost is a miracle,” he replied. “The little sinners can be changed by their own wives, sometimes even through prison.But the very big ones—only God can change.” I noticed how he wrestled with himself. He pointed to one spot of the painting without any words. Only then I noticed that he had painted himself there. “The real big ones only God can change,” he repeated.
Today’s gospel is a prayer of Jesus for his disciples and – as the verse immediately following today’s passage says – also for those who believe in him through their word. He prays that they may be given what he has with his heavenly Father: unity. In prayer form, Jesus touches again on what he had said earlier in these Farewell Discourses, namely that it’s necessary for believers to keep his word and command and to remain, to abide, to stay in his love. Only a branch that is connected to the vine can bear fruit. If it is cut off it will wither and die. He prays that God may keep them, who will continue to live in this world, from the power of the evil one.
In this prayer a person can feel the anguish, love and concern that Jesus has for his disciples, He knows that if they speak the same words of truth that he spoke they will experience opposition as he did. They will be faced with incomprehension, ridicule and persecution.
Today’s first reading tells us about the days before the first Pentecost. The apostles, Mary and some other disciples spend most of this time in the upper room, in prayer waiting for “the promise of the Father,” for the coming down upon them of the Holy Spirit with its power.
As we just heard, Peter announced during these days to a larger group of disciples that it’s necessary for Judas to be replaced as one of the Twelve. Why is it necessary? The number 12 is symbolic. The 12 apostles represent the 12 tribes of God’s original people. With the apostles as the core, the risen Jesus wants to establish God’s new people all-over the world by sending his disciples to give witness to him: In Jerusalem, throughout Judea and Samaria and to the ends of the earth.
Dear sisters and brothers, Jesus desires also our unity and our connectedness with him. Through his Holy Spirit, he empowers and enables us to be his witnesses.
So many things appear to be impossible or nearly impossible, humanly speaking: the breaking of unhealthy and sinful habits in our own lives, unity of Christians in spite of and in the midst of all the diversity with is good, unity even within our Church, standing up together for gospel values in a politically divided country and in a secularized society, proclaiming the Gospel message in countries
where Christians are persecuted… All this cannot be done with human strength alone.
The nine days between Ascension and Pentecost are a time of waiting and praying for the Holy Spirit, whom Christ has sent and sends to us ever anew, The Holy Spirit, who heals our wounds renews our strength, washes the stain of guilt away, melts the frozen, warms the chill and guides the steps that go astray.
Like the prisoner and artist in our story we, too, may hope in the Holy Spirit’s transforming power – within us and in others. Even the real big sinners God can change. Let’s pray today and throughout next week for ourselves, for our families and friends, for our work places, for our Church and our churches, for our society and for our world – that God may do amazing, miraculous things and bring about a new Pentecost.
AMEN.
6th Sunday of Easter
Fr. Volker Futter, OSB - celebrant
5th Sunday of Easter
Acts 9:26–31
1 John 3:18–24
John 15:1–8
Jesus was not afraid of the natural world around him. He used it frequently to describe God-human interaction. He observed its workings and was able to see analogies between plants and animals in the natural world and how life is in the Kingdom of God. Nature is a sacrament and thus holds within it the power to reveal the mystery of God and human beings.
Last Sunday when we gathered, we heard Jesus invoke the experience of sheep and shepherding to help us understand the relationship between himself and his followers, his disciples. It was not just sheep that caught his attention. It was also human involvement with the sheep that is part of the experience of Jesus and ourselves. It was the whole environment: sheep, shepherd, gate, gatekeeper, hireling.
Now Jesus asks us to observe another experience of nature, namely a vine and its branches. He brings in the agricultural world, one that would have been known to his audience and throughout the Mediterranean basin: presumably, he is speaking of grape vines, branches and their fruit, grapes. We know there are other kinds of vines, and some are not so friendly. But again, the center of his image is a relationship between vine and branches. A natural picture of his relationship with those who live by his word. Here too the relationship of Jesus and his disciples is placed in the environment: there is the vine grower, the Father; there is pruning; there is also bearing fruit. As we find in nature there branches that are non-productive, so there is there is burning them after they have been removed. All this Jesus puts in front of us as a help for us to understand how we are in relationship to him and he to us. And he sets that in the bigger picture. Our relationship to Jesus is in the end surrounded and held by the Father. The Father it seems has initiated the vine and branches in the first place. The story begins with him. And it is the Father who, like a normal vine grower, waits for the fruit. The Father has a hope for the relationship between Jesus and his followers. And to make sure that his hope is fulfilled, John tells us that he adds the Spirit into the mixture so that that the grapes will ripen and serve their purpose of making a wine that indeed is the gladness that flows in this relationship between vine and branches.
When Jesus puts the image of vine and branches in front of us, it becomes clear to us branches that our commitment in the relationship is to remain in it as Jesus repeats almost ad nauseam. Remaining in the relationship with Jesus is our task and our mission. Unless we are faithful to the relationship, there will be no fruit. We cannot live on our own. Being human for us means being in a relationship, and for followers of Jesus, it means he is the other half of the relationship. This remains true whether we are thinking of ourselves individually or as Church. Our identity flows from remaining on the vine, or remaining in Jesus. This may not be as easy as it sounds given a culture that prizes individualism and doing it on your own. The basic experience from the vineyard is that if you try it on your own, you fall off. Or more truthfully, you die.
We need to be clear. It is not enough to simply say, “Oh I am in Jesus and Jesus is in me.” As John says today, that’s great speech, but what does it look like. Being in Jesus is not static, it is active. One remains in Jesus so that one grows and produces fruit. The fruit is not there in the beginning. The fruit comes because we stay with it. We allow the process of growth to happen. What feeds that growth process is the word of Jesus. That word of Jesus is the binding force in the relationship. It is the identifying factor. The word Jesus speaks and the word he commands is love. But we know that love is what the Father is all about. He sends his Son out of love and to love. And the Jesus story? It is about laying down one’s life for another. Love reaches its climax in a death for others.
Love is the fruit of Jesus’ life. It becomes the fruit of the vine that he tells us will be poured out for us and for many so that new life may come between us and with the Father. So when we take this image of vine and branches all the way to the end of the process, it means our bearing fruit as well. And love is the fruit we are to bear; it means sacrifice; it means a dying to self and for another. The life the vine gives to the branches is love; it is love that gives Jesus to his branches. It is love that keeps the branches alive and in the process of bearing fruit.
For this process of bearing fruit, we will need to be pruned. Pruning, says Jesus, is an essential element in remaining in him and in bearing fruit. It doesn’t take much imagination for each of us to know what needs to be pruned away in our lives: it is anything that blocks the flow of love from myself to others: prejudices, unwillingness to forgive and let go, selfishness, being judgmental, consuming more than we need, talk that does not build up but cuts down the self-worth of others. We need to remember the command Jesus left us. I am giving you a new commandment, my word, love one another as I have loved you. What needs pruning on our part is anything that blocks that flow of love from Jesus to ourselves to others.
We may sometimes forget that the heart of our belief is love. It really is nothing else. And love as Jesus offers it to us today means nurturing a relationship. It all begins with the Father who does not want to condemn the world, our world. But even for the Father it cannot remain a word, a thought. It must take flesh. And so we profess it does, in Jesus. And for Jesus this love will mean taking up our sin and our death. And filling them instead with the power of love. For us who are a part of his vine, it means that when we are receiving his love we will be bearing fruit in lives through which his love is flowing.
The process is clear; it is a growth process. First, we are just a branch. Then we are a branch on the vine that is Jesus; then we remain in Jesus living by his word to love and then we can be called at the end his disciples. When that happens, the Father’s hope for us is realized: we are his children, yes, all who live by his word and have his love flowing through them.
~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB
4th Sunday of Easter
Fr. Thomas Hillenbrand, OSB - celebrant
3rd Sunday of Easter
Fr. Adam Patras, OSB - celebrant
2nd Sunday of Easter-Divine Mercy Sunday
Joh 20:19-31
Acts 4:32-35 1
Joh 5:1-6
focus: Divine Mercy is the Easter gift of the Risen Christ.
function: It can and is meant to transform also our hearts and our lives.
“Humanity will never find peace until it turns with trust to Divine Mercy.” Pope St. John Paul II once made reference to these words of Jesus to St. Faustina and then added: “Divine Mercy! This is the Easter gift that the Church receives from the risen Christ and offers to humanity.” Pope John Paul canonized the Polish nun Sr. Faustina Kowalska on April 30, 2000, and designated the 2nd Sunday of Easter to be Divine Mercy Sunday.
Pope Francis, in his Bull of Indiction of the Extraordinary Jubilee Year of Mercy, said: “Jesus the face of the Father’s mercy.” And he added: “Mercy has become living and visible in Jesus of Nazareth, reaching its culmination in him… Jesus, by his words, his actions, and his entire person reveals the mercy of God.”
Later in the document, he further explains: “’God is love’ (1 Jn 4:8,16)… This love has now been made visible and tangible in Jesus’ entire life. His person is nothing but love, a love given gratuitously. The relationships he forms with the people who approach him manifest something entirely unique and unrepeatable. The signs he works, especially in favor of sinners, the poor, the marginalized, the sick, and the suffering, are all meant to teach mercy. Everything in him speaks of mercy. Nothing in him is devoid of compassion”.
In showing God’s love, God’s acceptance, God’s compassion to people of all walks of life, Jesus overstepped boundaries defined by the authorities of his Jewish religion at this time, boundaries between clean and unclean, between the so-called righteous and sinners, between men and women,
between Jews and non-Jews, etc. This, in conjunction with his radical message, which went to the root of the law from Mt. Sinai and to its original and deeper intent, was considered provocative. He experienced rejection by the leaders of his people. In addition, the Roman colonial power suspected that he could cause an insurrection. Jesus’ fidelity to his mission of making visible God’s love and mercy for all people ultimately lead to his passion and death.
However, this is not the end of the story. Jesus rose from the dead and appeared to his disciples. He deals with them in a merciful way. He does not blame them for fearfully going into hiding during his passion. He does not hold against Peter that he denied him. Instead he bestows upon them his peace, as he had promised, and fills their hearts with joy. His breathing on them is a reference to the 2nd creation story in the book of Genesis. There God breathed life into a lump of clay and so created the first human being. Now the apostles become a new creation. The Bible uses the same word for breath, wind and God’s spirit: ruach (Hebrew), pneuma (Greek) and spiritus (Latin). In this new creation at Easter, the disciples are being filled, at the same time, with the Holy Spirit.
Jesus has forgiven them their infidelity toward him. And he calls upon them to practice forgiveness themselves. – Finally, Jesus is not satisfied until even Thomas who was not part of the group on Easter Sunday, can also experience his presence as the Risen One and believe in him.
Pope Francis once pointed out that this is also an expression of Jesus’ mercy: He goes after Thomas so nobody is left out!
Dear sisters and brothers, Divine Mercy is the Easter gift of the Risen Christ. It can transform and is meant to transform also our hearts and our lives.
St. Faustina had a vision of Jesus and of divine mercy radiating from his sacred heart. In the vision, Jesus asked for a painting to be made of this image. A local artist created the painting according to her directives. It shows Jesus standing, with nail marks on his hands and feet, his right hand raised in blessing and with rays fanning out from his heart, white on one side and red on the other. I like to look at this image. The white rays represent Jesus’ gift of the Holy Spirit to us. We, too, have already been re-made into a new creation since our baptism. The old things have passed away, the new has begun (2 Cor 5:17), St. Paul would say.
Today’s second reading is another Scriptural reference of this image. St. John says that Jesus came through water and through blood (represented by the red rays). The blood that flowed out of Jesus’ side wound symbolizes and literally expresses his love to the end of which every Eucharist reminds us. At the Mass we are invited to unite our cross-bearing, our daily dying and rising, that is part of Christian discipleship with His.
In today’s gospel, Jesus also send his disciples out, giving them a share in his mission that he has received from his Father. One expression of living it is forgiveness, giving the people who are part of our lives a new chance time and again and not holding “old things” against them any longer: in the family, in monastic community, in the church, also in society and in the world. This is one important way of sharing the gift of Divine mercy that we have so plentifully received.
~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB
The Easter Candle
The Easter candle that graces our churches during the Easter Season is one of the major symbols of the Risen Christ in our midst. The Easter Vigil begins with a service of light and the candle, the light of Christ, is at the center of it. We begin with a new fire. This fire is already a sign of the glory of the resurrected Lord. It is meant to shatter the darkness of the night around it, as Jesus’ rising will shatter the darkness of death, evil and ignorance.
A special candle is prepared so that the glory of Christ can be among us as we worship. To set this candle apart from others, it receives special signs. The celebrant first marks the candle with the cross, the sign of our redemption. As he cuts the vertical and horizontal lines, he says “Christ yesterday and today, the Beginning and the End.” He then cuts the first and last letters of the Greek alphabet, Alpha and Omega, above and below the cross, saying their names as he does so. All these phrases are taken from the Letter to the Hebrews and the Book of Revelation where the Risen Lord identifies himself as the Beginning and the End. The priest continues with the theme of time by marking the numerals of the current year in the four corners of the cross. As he does this, he says: “All time belongs to him and all the ages. To him be glory and power through every age and for ever. Amen.” With these references to time we are proclaiming that the Risen One is the Lord of history, Lord of time. With his death and resurrection, a new time has begun and he is at the heart of it. The death and resurrection of Christ will give meaning to all events of the current year and beyond.
Next five grains of incense are inserted into the cross on the candle. These grains of incense are today often encased in a wax that look like nails. The five grains are in remembrance of the wounds of Christ in his hands, feet, side and head. As the priest inserts them, he says, “By his holy and glorious wounds, may Christ the Lord guard us and protect us. Amen.” This reminds us that the Risen Lord is also the crucified Lord. Jesus often showed his wounds to his disciples after his resurrection so that they would know it was he who died and is now risen. Being protected by the wounds hints at the Paschal Lamb whose blood was sprinkled on the door posts so that death would Passover the houses of Israelites that first passover night. This night for us is our celebration of that passing over from death to life.
The preparation of the candle is completed when a light is taken from the new fire and the candle is lit. The lighting of the candle is accompanied by the words, “May the light of Christ rising in glory dispel the darkness of our hearts and minds.” Now the light that is literally outside where it is challenging the darkness of the night is Christ who will shine inwardly to bring light to our inner selves, transforming them into a new self.
Since the markings of the cross and the Alpha and Omega are not usually visible, they are often indicated by decals that decorate the Easter Candle. The candle often carries other kinds of decorations as well. Our candle adds to the time indications “The Year of St. Joseph” as well as a victorious Paschal Lamb symbol.
When the candle is in its place in the church an ancient hymn is sung called the Exultet. This hymn to the Christ candle unpacks further the meaning and power of this light in the community’s midst. It is worthwhile to read and pray from this hymn throughout the Easter Season. The candle remains near the ambo where the readings are proclaimed for the whole of the Easter season.
~Fr. Joel Macul, OSB
Easter Vigil - 2021
Romans 6:3–11
Mark 16:1–7
The Sabbath is over. The day of rest has been dutifully observed. We, too, have kept watch; we have observed the Sabbath, completing it by pondering again the stories, the images, the poetry that speak of God’s creative power. We have heard of his desire to set us free and above all, of his love that is everlasting. We have heard again of his love that calls the stars by name and call us too out of darkness into his wonderful light.
We need this Sabbath, this rest, the time to remember, to hear again about God’s choice of us. We need it, too, like the women we meet walking to the tomb with burial spices. We need to mourn our losses; we need time to admit that the death of Jesus has changed something but we are not quite sure what. Maybe we have not made the connection yet between his death and our need to die to self. But the Sabbath is over. It is back to practicalities, to taking care of the matter at hand. It is time to shop for what is needed, for our task now of caring for the dead; time to buy, something we are very familiar with. And as we walk along, the next practical question is who is going to roll away the stone? We women can only do so much. But there is no one else around. The men have done their thing.
And yet the question, “Who will roll away the stone?” is a real one. On one level, it means how can we get on with courting death. How can we take care of the next victim of violence, deceit and false testimony? How can we lay to rest the next victim of human atrocity? We humans are good at finding someone or something to blame and then making sure we get rid of it. We dread owning our own frailty and weakness, our simple mistakes, our major faults. The women are simply doing what they did in Galilee, ministering to Jesus, even when he is a dead corpse. Nothing seems to have changed. We just carry on.
But when the women look up from their questioning, something has changed. The question as to who will roll back the stone has been answered. “God will.” God will roll it back because God wants death to change. God will open up the tomb because his Son has been placed there and that dead Son needs to live. Suddenly rolling away the stone is more than a practical necessity; rolling away the stone allows the women to enter not to find death but to find a young man clothed in white letting them know that death is over and gone.
The women are amazed. They came to continue the story of death. Instead, they find the morning sun shining in the place, the body gone and a messenger in white telling them this is not where you need to be! In so many words, you are in the wrong place! Your crucified friend is not here, just as he told you. Remember!
The women are shocked, amazed! At what? That there is another story being told here. It is a story of love and fidelity of a Father for his Son. It is a story about freeing humanity from taking its own life, from self-destructive behavior. Jesus has been telling a story about giving up one’s life out of love for another, for us. His was not a cold death, now to be packaged up like other deaths. His death was for us. He entered the grasp of death, its depths in the tomb, trusting in love. And doing it so that we might look up and see that what we thought was the end, is really a place of light and a message to continue on the journey where you will see him.
The Father’s love does not let things be; his love rolls back what blocks us from seeing light and hearing good news. His love is about restoring an original peace, a wholeness where life is the beginning and the end. His love is about giving us a new heart, a new spirit. It makes no difference where we are on the road of life: the hopeful end of a pandemic where we know in our hearts that life will not be the same; an acceptance of my own fragility of body and mind; a loss that seems to go on forever…God is rolling back the stone so we can see that his love is what holds the world and humanity together.
The women are right. They have to get into the tomb. Yes, they have to die with Jesus. Paul puts it clearly: we have to die with Christ and be buried with him. This is the only way to life. Baptism is our dying and being buried and the beginning of our rising to live for this mysterious God. It is not a one time process; it is a daily process as we live our time on earth.
Baptism is the beginning of the journey. What journey? The messenger in the tomb tells us: He is going before you to Galilee. He went before you to Jerusalem and you followed him. You watched and followed him to the tomb. But you cannot remain in Jerusalem the place of death, you must go where you experienced how he loved, lived, prayed healed and broke bread with you. When you do that, you will see him.
It is hard work, dying, being buried and beginning to rise. But someone has rolled back the stone so that we can make that journey into new life. That someone who worked so light could enter is the Father. And the new life that lies ahead is his Son, going on ahead of us still. Yes, he is risen, alleluia. He is not in death and neither are you as you go on to Galilee. Be amazed but get moving. There is much energy released on this day for the stone has been rolled back.
~Prior, Fr. Joel Macul, OSB
Good Friday - Liturgy of the Lord's Passion & Death
Holy Thursday - Mass of the Lord's Supper
Joh 13:1-15
Ex 12:1-8, 11-14 1
Cor 11: 23-26
focus: On Holy Thursday we commemorate the first Eucharist in the Cenacle.
function: And we hear the Lord’s call to each one of us to humbly serve our brothers and sisters in our everyday life.
During the last couple of years, I got to know the Jewish religion a bit better, among other things through an encounter with Rabbi Teri at South Street Temple in Lincoln, through study, spiritual reading, and the Tri-Faith initiative in Omaha. Thus, my mind was especially with our Jewish sisters and brothers Last Saturday, when the weeklong Jewish Passover celebration began with the nightly Seder meal. As part of the rite, the youngest child or family member asks what the meaning is of this night. Then the head of the family, usually the father, tells the story of the wonderful Exodus from Egypt. Today “the Lord brought us from bondage to freedom, from sorrow to gladness, from mourning to a festival day, from darkness to great light, from servitude to redemption” (Mishna). Today: What is remembered and told becomes a present event. For those who hear about God’s deeds thousands of years ago and who celebrate them with praise, redemption from slavery become a present reality.
Tonight’s first reading is the description of the people of Israel’s first Passover meal in Egypt. The blood of the sacrificed lambs marks the homes of the Israelites—and so they are being spared from the tenth and worst plague which is to come upon Pharaoh and the Egyptians: the death of the firstborn. After this, Pharaoh will let the people of Israel go from bondage into freedom.
One way for us of receiving this Biblical message is to get in touch with our own desire for greater freedom, for liberation from those patterns of thinking and behavior in our life that keep us from being free. We can look back once again on the forty days of Lent: Have our Lenten practices helped us toward greater freedom? Whatever the answer, we can hold out our desire for freedom to God, who can fulfill and who wants to fulfill our deepest longings!
This night is very special for us as Christians. We celebrate the institution of the Holy Eucharist. Our second reading and the gospel take us into the night of Jesus’ Last Supper with his disciples. St. Paul tells us about Jesus’ gift to us: "This is my body that is for you,” Jesus says. With this he summarizes his whole ministry. It was all about self-giving. And we hear about Jesus’ summons, “Do this in remembrance of me.” Whenever we celebrate the Eucharist we act on this word and the Last Supper becomes present to us. Whenever we do this, St. Paul writes, we “proclaim the death of the Lord.”
He gave his life to set us free. Jesus’ salvific death invites us to self-giving. At offertory time, we place our life, whatever is going on with us right now, on the paten, together with the host, and it is being transform with it. The action of Jesus is meant to become and can become our action. Through our own self- offering, through our dying to self, we imitate Jesus and conform our lives to his.
Paul adds: We shall do this “until he comes.” One day, Jesus will come again in glory. Until then, whenever we gather for the Eucharist, we already receive in this sacrament a foretaste of the joyful banquet with him in heaven.
John's gospel has a different account of the Last Supper. John does not relate Jesus’ words of institution at all. Instead, Jesus washes his disciples' feet. With this ritual Jesus shows us how he gives us his body and allows his blood to be poured out for us. By his action, Jesus says: I am a servant to you and to all. You can become like this, too: “Love one another as I have loved you!”
Dear sisters and brothers, on Holy Thursday we commemorate the first Eucharist in the Cenacle; it becomes present to us. And we hear the Lord’s mandate to each one of us to humbly serve our brothers and sisters in our everyday life.
We are invited today to enter into this scene in our imagination: Reclining at table with Jesus, looking at him, listening to him. He teaches us. He feeds us with himself. He strengthens us and gives us life. Then we see how he puts on an apron and starts washing everyone’s feet. Like Peter, I feel resistance. I realize: I have to let Jesus wash my feet. I need to "name" the part of my life, the part of myself that I need to surrender to the Lord to be embraced and loved, washed and healed.
As we celebrate the Eucharist tonight, we can participate in it with new gratitude, for the gift that Jesus is for us. The word ‘Eucharist’ means ‘thanksgiving’. This gratitude will be the seed for our own loving according to his example, ,it will be the starting point for us reaching out to those who need liberation and a new experience of that dignity which God has given to all of us and which people felt anew in Jesus presence. AMEN.
~Fr. Thomas Leitner, OSB