4th Sunday of Easter - Year B

Acts 4:8-12; 1 John 3:1-2; John 10:11-18

Have you ever wondered why Judas betrayed Jesus? Like the other Eleven he was chosen by the Lord; he heard the same instruction, saw the miracles, and experienced all the love that the others Apostles did. It was not even his betrayal that made him different. Peter sinned too, and in much the same way as Judas. Both men came to recognise their sin and admitted it. Judas plainly declared: I have sinned ... I have betrayed innocent blood (Mtt 27:4).

So, faced by their misdeeds, why did Peter weep and Judas hang himself?

In today's Gospel Jesus tells us twice that he is the good shepherd. He lays down his life for his sheep and he knows his own (sheep). Then he adds: and my own know me.

The more you reflect on this little phrase the more puzzling it becomes. What does it mean to know Jesus? Do you know Jesus? Do I know Jesus? Does it mean that we have met him, seen him, heard him? How can we, who have been practising Catholics for many years know for certain that we know Jesus?

It seems to me that if we can answer this question not only will we grow in our own understanding of the Faith but we might also get deeper insight into Judas' despairing response to that painful, final encounter with his own guilt.

Remember last Sunday's second reading? St John tells us: We can be sure that we know God only by keeping his commandments. This is the answer to our question, 'How can we know for certain that we know Jesus?'

I noticed the other day someone has already been carving things into our new pews. I feel tempted to sneak in some night and carve these words on each pew in the church: We can be sure that we know God only by keeping his commandments. And in case you missed the point St John puts it again in another way: Anyone who says, 'I know him', and does not keep his commandments is a liar, refusing to admit the truth. Strong words! I even considered whether I should quote them. I wondered why St John found it necessary to speak so strongly and I am guessing that even in his day, only a few decades after the death of Jesus, there was already in vogue the nonsense, spoken by foolish people, that we still hear everywhere today.

• I know Jesus but I live with my girlfriend or my boyfriend.
• I know Jesus but I use contraception.
• I know Jesus but abortion is ok.
• I know Jesus but I live in a gay relationship.

Do you notice these sins are all habitual? This means they are not the sins we commit and confess with shame and contrition and a purpose of amendment. Of these sins St John told us last week: ...if anyone should sin, we have our advocate with the Father, Jesus Christ .. he is the sacrifice that takes our sins away. The sins I mentioned are not like that. They are ongoing and deliberate, springing out of attitudes directly opposed to the commandments of God. People who live like this cannot be said to know God (yet). And they should not kid themselves about this or they will remain in their sin.

Judas was an habitual thief and a liar; he lied to himself as much as to others. His dishonesty is apparent in his pretence at the Last Supper when Jesus, the Truth and the Life, told the Apostles that one of them was about to betray him. Judas, well aware of his intentions and with chilling hypocrisy, simulated innocence: Not I, Rabbi, surely?

Sadly, for all his years spent in the Lord's company, Judas did not know Jesus. He had habitually failed to keep his commandments. When the moment of raw insight arrived and he saw his crime for what it was, he despaired. Mercy and forgiveness from his loving Master was not an option for him; he just did not know Jesus.

Without a doubt, what St John says in his Gospel (Jn 17:3) is true: And eternal life is this: to know you, the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent.

3rd Sunday of Easter - Year B

Acts 2:14, 22-33; 1 Peter 1:17-21; Luke 24:13-35

'You Catholics, you're always talking about sin. Why can't you give it a rest? People are sick and tired of hearing about sin. Why don't you get with the Good News?'

What would you answer if these words were said to you?

The truth of the matter is they are right, we are always talking about sin; just look at the readings today. And even when we aren't actually using the three letter word itself we are tirelessly implying in all our talk of forgiveness and mercy and Christian struggle that sin is for us a major preoccupation.

Well, I would answer that Catholics talk about sin in the same way as doctors are always talking about disease. I'd like to see someone make this accusation against the medical profession: You doctors, you're always talking about disease. Why can't you give it a rest? People are sick and tired of hearing about bad health. Why don't you get with the good news?

The reality is that sensible people know that good health is achieved by avoiding bad health habits just as holiness involves the avoidance of sin.

Certainly St Peter makes no apology as he gets to work on his listeners in the First Reading today:

• you handed Jesus over
• you disowned him
• you accused the Holy One
• you demanded the reprieve of a murderer
• you killed the prince of life

Peter hammers home his accusations seemingly without mercy. No wonder the Sanhedrin later complained, with more than a little understatement (Acts 5:28): 'You ... seem determined to fix the guilt of this man's death on us.'

That was their problem, really, wasn't it? They refused to acknowledge their sin, and so, unfortunately, they remained stuck in it.

Now imagine yourself standing with the other Jews in the Portico of Solomon listening to Peter's address. He begins:

• You are Israelites - and you might find yourself thinking - So are you.
• You handed him over - and you might say to yourself - Well, you ran away.
• You disowned him - and you say to yourself - So did you, three times.

It's ironic how much like them Peter really is, and how much like him we all really are. Even when Peter tells them that Jesus foretold they would do all this, we can smile to ourselves and say: Well, he foretold that you would deny him, Peter. You didn't believe him; you didn't understand the prophets and you didn't know what you were doing either.

And yet Peter is far from being unaware of his sin. Do you think that when I stand up here in my white alb and stole and chasuble that I don't realise that I'm a sinner like the rest of you? Peter has acknowledged his sin; he has wept bitterly for his cowardly denial; he has three times, in front of the others, affirmed his love for the Lord, and he has been forgiven.

After his bold accusations his tone and his words change abruptly: Now I know, brothers, that neither you nor your leaders had any idea what you were really doing; this was the way God carried out what he had foretold, when he said through all his prophets that his Christ would suffer. Now you must repent and turn to God, so that your sins may be wiped out.

Peter calls the murderers of Jesus Christ 'brothers' and he does it deliberately. Chastened by the painful memory of his own guilt Peter would never place himself above them; indeed, we are all brothers in sin.

Having pointed out their sin (the difficult duty of all who wish to bring others to Christ) he now shows them that the door to God's mercy and forgiveness stands open. It's as though Peter were saying, 'Brothers, together, you and I, every one of us must repent. We must turn away from our sins and turn to God and he will wipe them away.'

It all begins with this painful, personal recognition of sin; we all have to come to the point of saying 'I have sinned, I am a sinner'. With God's grace, with humility and understanding it's not hard to do, but it must be done.

Finally let me put in a plug for the Sacrament of Reconciliation - it's the way Jesus has instituted to have grave sins 'wiped away'.

Divine Mercy Sunday - Year B

Acts 4:32-35; 1 John 5:1-6; John 20:19-31

In the 1930s, when Jesus appeared to a young Polish nun, Sr Faustina, he required of her the institution of the Divine Mercy Feast on the Sunday after Easter. Pope John Paul II has done this and officially declared the young nun a saint.

The Divine Mercy Devotion incorporates the image of the Divine Mercy, the Chaplet of the Divine Mercy, the 3 o’clock prayer to the Divine Mercy, the prayer for the conversion of sinners, and the great gift of the feast day itself for those who go to Confession and receive Holy Communion on this day.

I hope you don’t mind if I simply go on quoting from St Faustina’s diary which is called Divine Mercy in my Soul.

Jesus told St Faustina: Paint an image according to the pattern you see, with the signature: Jesus, I trust in You. I desire that this image be venerated, first in your chapel, and [then] throughout the world.

I promise that the soul that will venerate this image will not perish. I also promise victory over [its] enemies already here on earth, especially at the hour of death. I Myself will defend it as My own glory.

… I desire that there be a Feast of Mercy. I want this image, which you will paint with a brush, to be solemnly blessed on the first Sunday after Easter; that Sunday is to be the Feast of Mercy.

During prayer, says St Faustina, I heard these words within me: The two rays denote Blood and Water. The pale ray stands for the Water which makes souls righteous. The red ray stands for the Blood which is the life of souls... These two rays issued forth from the very depths of My tender mercy when My agonized Heart was opened by a lance on the Cross. These rays shield souls from the wrath of My Father. Happy is the one who will dwell in their shelter, for the just hand of God shall not lay hold of him…

Jesus went on to say: I desire that priests proclaim this great mercy of Mine towards souls of sinners. Let the sinner not be afraid to approach Me. The flames of mercy are burning Me - clamouring to be spent; I want to pour them out upon these souls.

Once, Jesus said to St Faustina: My gaze from this image is like My gaze from the cross.

I am offering people a vessel with which they are to keep coming for graces to the fountain of mercy. That vessel is this image with the signature: "Jesus, I trust in You."

Sr Faustina says: When I asked the Lord Jesus for a sign as a proof "that You are truly my God and Lord and that this request comes from You," I heard this interior voice, I will make this all clear to the Superior by means of the graces which I will grant through this image.

In other words, the proof of authenticity will come when we do as Jesus asks and begin to recognise the graces he has given.

When you say this prayer, with a contrite heart and with faith on behalf of some sinner, I will give him the grace of conversion. This is the prayer: "O Blood and Water, which gushed forth from the Heart of Jesus as a fount of Mercy for us, I trust in You."

Mankind will not have peace until it turns with trust to My mercy.

Proclaim that mercy is the greatest attribute of God. All the works of My hands are crowned with mercy.

Once, as I was going down the hall to the kitchen, I heard these words in my soul: Say unceasingly the chaplet that I have taught you. Whoever will recite it will receive great mercy at the hour of death. Priests will recommend it to sinners as their last hope of salvation. Even if there were a sinner most hardened, if he were to recite this chaplet only once, he would receive grace from My infinite mercy. I desire that the whole world know My infinite mercy. I desire to grant unimaginable graces to those souls who trust in My mercy.

On one occasion, I heard these words: My daughter, tell the whole world about My inconceivable mercy. I desire that the Feast of Mercy be a refuge and shelter for all souls, and especially for poor sinners. On that day the very depths of My tender mercy are open. I pour out a whole ocean of graces upon those souls who approach the Fount of My Mercy. The soul that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion shall obtain complete forgiveness of sins and punishment. On that day all the divine floodgates through which grace flow are opened. Let no soul fear to draw near to Me, even though its sins be as scarlet … Mankind will not have peace until it turns to the Fount of My Mercy.

The Lord's Promise: The souls that say this chaplet will be embraced by My mercy during their lifetime and especially at the hour of their death.

Souls who spread the honour of My mercy I shield through their entire lives as a tender mother her infant, and at the hour of death I will not be a Judge for them, but the Merciful Saviour. At that last hour, a soul has nothing with which to defend itself except My mercy. Happy is the soul that during its lifetime immersed itself in the Fountain of Mercy, because justice will have no hold on it.

He spoke these words to me: I want to grant a complete pardon to the souls that will go to Confession and receive Holy Communion on the Feast of My mercy.

He who refuses to pass through the door of My mercy must pass through the door of My justice...

… I am more generous toward sinners than toward the just.

At three o'clock, implore My mercy, especially for sinners; and, if only for a brief moment, immerse yourself in My Passion, particularly in My abandonment at the moment of agony. This is the hour of great mercy for the whole world. I will allow you to enter into My mortal sorrow. In this hour, I will refuse nothing to the soul that makes a request of Me in virtue of My Passion....

Write, speak of My mercy. Tell souls where they are to look for solace; that is, in the Tribunal of Mercy [the Sacrament of Reconciliation] There the greatest miracles take place [and] are incessantly repeated. To avail oneself of this miracle, it is not necessary to go on a great pilgrimage or to carry out some external ceremony; it suffices to come with faith to the feet of My representative and to reveal to him one's misery, and the miracle of Divine Mercy will be fully demonstrated. Were a soul like a decaying corpse so that from a human standpoint, there would be no [hope of] restoration and everything would already be lost, it is not so with God. The miracle of Divine Mercy restores that soul in full. Oh, how miserable are those who do not take advantage of the miracle of God's mercy! You will call out in vain, but it will be too late.

Write that when they say this chaplet in the presence of the dying, I will stand between My Father and the dying person, not as the just Judge but as the merciful Saviour.

The diary of St Faustina is full of gems and it was very difficult for me to make selections from it. I really encourage each of you to buy it and read it and to reflect on your own life in the light of Jesus' words and St Faustina's insights.

Easter Sunday Mass of the Day - Year B

Acts 10:34, 37-43; Colossians 3:1-4; John 20:1-9

The first paragraph of John's Gospel account (20:1-9) reads a little like a police report about the discovery of a stolen body; it is concise, clear, dispassionate.

The second paragraph is curious too. It has a distinctly 'forensic' tone, almost like a detective entering the undisturbed crime scene and noting down all the little details that might become important later on (linen cloths on the ground - facecloth rolled up in a separate place by itself...).

Apart from the haunting question 'Where is the body?', there is also, of course, a deep spiritual, ecclesial dimension to the account centred mainly on the relationship between Peter and John (the other disciple, the one Jesus loved).

Mary of Magdala saw the tomb was open and, presumably, that the body was not there; she said it had been 'taken'. We are told that she ran to tell 'Simon Peter and the other disciple ...'. Did you notice that Peter is mentioned first, as he commonly is in the Gospels, and, also, that it was Peter who set out 'with the other disciple' to go to the tomb. We have to be alive to the text as it occupies itself with this 'story within a story'.

The relationship between Peter and John is the relationship between 'authority' and 'spirit', or as some writers say, between 'office' and 'love'.

Peter represents 'authority' within the Church; John represents 'love', or that lively spontaneity which comes with openness to the Holy Spirit. In any event, authority in the Church, for a whole host of reasons, must come first; the authority given to Peter by Christ himself.

So authority and love set out to the tomb together; they must never be separated. They run together but love runs faster. How true that is!

John reaches the tomb first. He bends down and peers in but he did not go in. Love always defers to authority; love is always obedient to authority.

Now Peter comes up, probably puffing and panting! He goes right into the tomb. He saw the linen cloths on the ground and also the cloth that had been over his head; this was not with the linen cloths but rolled up in a place by itself.

We are not told what Peter’s reaction was; he keeps his counsel. John, however, now also goes in, ‘he saw and he believed’.

The four Gospels are written by believers so that others, you and I, might believe. There is always a strict adherence to truth, though not always to the details which vary between accounts. Readers will marvel at the ruthless honesty of the resurrection narratives which resist any attempt to polish the story, tie up loose ends and reconcile conflicting details.

On its own the empty tomb does not furnish ultimate proof of anything other than that the body was missing. The Magdalene thought it had been taken, the soldiers, in the account of Matthew, claimed it had been stolen while they were asleep. The empty tomb is clearly not sufficient for Easter faith. It is only when taken together with the actual appearances of the risen Lord that we can say we truly believe. It is a bit of a pity that our Gospel reading ends where it does; a few more lines and we would have seen how forensic faith, based on the factual details, gives way to a deep, personal faith as Jesus, mistaken for the gardener, says: Mary.

I feel that a final, if somewhat obvious, point must still be made. What was it exactly that was missing from the tomb? - of course, the body of Jesus. Every now and then some tiresome person, even clergy, will pop their wise head over the horizon and claim that Jesus was not raised and that we will not be raised ‘in the body’. The two thousand year old creed of the Christian faith which states that we believe in ‘the resurrection of the body’ means nothing to them; it’s all a ‘metaphor’.

We know that Christ suffered in his body so that he might save us in the body. We are body and soul and we will one day be in heaven, together with him, and with each other, body and soul. Today we celebrate the risen Christ and we celebrate that in raising his Son from the dead our heavenly Father promises to raise us too. Alleluia!

Easter Vigil - Year B

Romans 6: 3-11; Mark 16:1-7

When the Hebrews crossed the Red Sea and saw their enemies destroyed by the returning waters; when they saw themselves free from their cruel slavery in Egypt; when they saw the greatness and the power of their God and his faithfulness to his promises - they sang! - the first song recorded in the Scriptures. And it was a beautiful song - a joyful litany of all the great things their mighty God had done for them.

Tonight we entered the darkened church and shuffled down the aisles to our places guided only by the light of the Easter Candle, the light of the risen Christ. We reached out and lit our tapers from that candle and saw the darkness in the church pushed back by the invading brightness. The mystically minded among us may have suddenly noticed in that gathering light that their feet were now standing on the far shore of the Red Sea, that their great enemy death had been destroyed, and that they were now freed from slavery to sin. Their mighty Lord had conquered; he had risen from the dead; he had restored all creation in himself. What else could we do but sing!

And we did! We stood together in the 'holy light' of the Paschal Candle and the great prayer of praise and exultation which has been sung for almost 1500 years, maybe more, was intoned. This hymn, called 'the Exultet', unveils the mighty works accomplished by the resurrection of Christ our Lord and it was sung like the Hebrews sang, with wonderment and incredulous joy.

This night makes everything new, sets everything free, bandages every wound and wipes away every tear. It raises the dead and destroys the darkness of sin, restoring us to friendship with God. It forms the motley, ragtag tribe of Hebrew slaves into a people for God, freed to become the Chosen People. Not a single corner of the cosmos is left untouched because the light of the resurrection illuminates all creation; nothing is left unredeemed, not even a single second of time past, present, or future. Who could refrain from singing, who would dare to be sad on this night?

The Easter Candle will stand in our midst until it is replaced at the Easter Vigil next year. It will be lit at every Mass during the Easter season because Easter is the feast of Christ, our Light. It will be lit at every Baptism - every time an infant or an adult is brought through the waters of the Red Sea from slavery in Egypt to freedom as God's children.

My dear friends, we heard the cantor ask just now the question we have all asked ourselves at some point: What good would life have been to us, had not Christ come as our Redeemer? Tonight we celebrate the Light which answers every question, every doubt that we might ever have. In the presence of the Risen Christ there are no longer any questions; Jesus is the answer to them all. Let each one of us, especially if we have anxieties, fears, hopes, dreams, longings, sins, angers, hurts, sufferings, let each one of us say: Tonight Jesus Christ is risen from the dead and so tonight we too have risen. There is no more to fear. Alleluia!

Holy Thursday - Year B

Exodus 12:1-8,11-14; 1 Corinthians 11:23-26; John 13:1-15

The Church has always seen a deep connection between the Passover, the Passion and the Eucharist.

The Hebrew slaves in Egypt had been promised freedom by a man claiming to be sent by God; his name was Moses. There had been tense confrontations with Pharaoh and his advisors followed by strange plagues. The people were not at all sure that Moses could deliver on his promises, in fact, his first attempts to speak for the people had only made their lives more difficult. Now things were coming to a head. Pharaoh had commanded Moses never again to appear before him and Moses had foretold the death of all male firstborn in the kingdom on the 10th day of the month. The Hebrews, however, would escape God’s anger by sprinkling on their lintels and doorposts the blood of an unblemished, one year old, male lamb. This lamb was to be roasted and eaten that night.

We can imagine the turmoil and tension of that first Passover night. The people put all their trust in Moses and did what they were commanded and at midnight the darkness was filled with wailing as the angel of God took every firstborn Egyptian, man and beast. Amid confusion and fright the Hebrews left Egypt, following their leader Moses. He took them to the Red Sea and safely brought them across by parting the waters with his staff.

Not by coincidence but by the foresight of God the Passion of Jesus took place at Passover time. Jesus faced a much fiercer opponent than Pharaoh; he faced death itself. To all who were slaves of sin he promised freedom and eternal life if they would follow him. Not everyone could believe but many did and became his disciples.

Around midnight they came for him and arrested him. Once more there was confusion, turmoil, tension and fear; once more a lamb was slain, male, unblemished, in the prime of his life; once more blood was sprinkled and once more a people was set free.

Have you ever read the account of the second Passover? You can find it in chapter nine of the Book of Numbers; it’s my favourite Old Testament moment.

Exactly one year after leaving Egypt the Hebrews were commanded to celebrate the Passover again and they did so: celebrating the Passover in the desert of Sinai during the evening twilight of the fourteenth day of the first month, just as the LORD had commanded Moses.

In the desert of Sinai … in the twilight of the evening. Oh, what marvellous words, what a marvellous scene, what a gracious, trustworthy, powerful God! Gone were the enemy, gone was the confusion, gone was the bedlam! Now there was only the evening twilight … in the desert of Sinai ... (picture it!) and the People alone with their God.

This evening, if you’ll permit me to continue the analogies, we have come to the second Passion, the Mass. Like the second Passover it is celebrated in the evening and, thank God, in a tranquil setting of peace and freedom; we are alone with our God.

Certainly tonight the victim is slain, the blood poured out, and the Lamb eaten - but this time in an unbloody manner.

At the moment of Consecration the first Passion is made present, (re-presented) for us tonight in all its liberating power; the crucified One hangs in our midst on the Cross and the one death he died for us sinners is once again made present in this moment of time, our time. And also, at the moment of Consecration, the defeated Lord will stand in our midst as the Risen and Victorious One, the Easter Christ offering us his strength and peace.

Palm Sunday - Year B

Isaiah 50:4-7; Philippians 2:6-11; Mark 1:1-15:47

About a month ago I was called to attend an elderly patient, let’s call her Rosa, who was critically ill; she was in her agony but conscious. She smiled weakly as I entered the room. I absolved her, gave her the plenary indulgence given at the time of death, anointed her and gave a tiny particle of the Sacred Host. After a few moments she whispered to me: Father, he takes our health, he takes our dignity, but he never takes himself.

It was one of those occasional moments in a priest’s life when heaven itself seems to speak and how I wished the whole world could have heard: …. he never takes himself!

On reflection, the whole dying process could be seen as a process of giving back to God all that he has given us during our life, ending with life itself. It is the painful fulfilment of those words spoken in another context to the disciples of the Pharisees: Give back … to God what belongs to God. Rosa had given back everything only to discover she was left with one last thing which would never be taken from her, God himself.

It’s a curious thing that today’s feast has two names – Palm Sunday and Passion Sunday – two names which, probably unintentionally, underline these two aspects of every human life, the giving and the giving back, the palms and the passion.

Jesus’ welcome into the city of Jerusalem is a wonderful 'palms' moment filled with blessings, a moment of popularity and welcome. He gets the colt of the donkey to ride on and they even cover it with their cloaks. They spread cloaks on the ground and wave palms, welcoming him as king with loud acclamations. Somehow the hosanna’s of the people are a recognition of all that God had given his Son Jesus during his life.

The Passion, which we have just read is, on the other hand, the painful litany of Jesus’ returning all to the Father. He divests himself willingly of everything; he allows himself to be stripped of all that is not God, so that he might show us, in a moment of supreme surrender, where our true treasure lies.

Betrayed by one of his inner circle of friends, arrested as a lawbreaker, deserted by his disciples, denied by the leader of his Apostles, condemned by the religious authorities, punished unjustly by the civil authorities, mocked and tortured by soldiers, stripped of his clothes, crucified between thieves – the innocent Jesus is left to die as a contemptible criminal, exposed on a Cross, jeered at by the crowds.

And yet one further torment lay in store for him, the greatest agony a person can suffer, the experience of the withdrawal of the merciful presence the Father: My God, my God, why have you deserted me?

Let us hasten to affirm that in reality God never leaves us, that he is always present to us and that he didn’t actually abandon Jesus; Rosa was right ‘…he never takes himself.' What we are speaking of here an experience of what it would be like if God really did withdraw from us. Many of the saints have undergone this ultimate purification of their love and the mystical doctors call it the ‘dark night of the soul’.

Jesus took the full punishment of sin upon himself and, undoubtedly, the punishment of sin is the eternal deprivation of the presence of God. St Faustina, the Apostle of the Divine Mercy, experienced this dark night and tells us that: the dreadful thought of being rejected by God is the actual torture suffered by the damned. Later she describes her experience a little more fully.

She tells us: One day, just as I had awakened, when I was putting myself in the presence of God, I was suddenly overwhelmed by despair. Complete darkness in the soul. I fought as best I could till noon. In the afternoon, truly deadly fears began to seize me; my physical strength began to leave me. I went quickly to my cell, fell on my knees before the Crucifix and began to cry out for mercy. But Jesus did not hear my cries. I felt my physical strength leave me completely. I fell to the ground, despair flooding my whole soul. I suffered terrible tortures in no way different from the torments of hell.

Do you see now why Jesus’ suffering was so necessary? In taking upon himself that which by rights we should have suffered, total alienation from God, that is, the torment of hell, he satisfied divine justice and won for all of us a restoration to communion with the Father.

In every human life, in yours and in mine, the palms and the passion are intermingled. We accept the first with gratitude and the second with faith and look forward to that moment when, having given back all that we were given, we enter into the unutterable joy of eternal life.