Easter Sunday Mass at Cabrini Nursing Home in Manhattan, NY.

Hello everyone. 

Sorry that I have not been posting lately.  I have been on the road quite a bit between campus ministry work, vocation ministry and the Community of Sant’Egidio. 

I have just finished celebrating the Triduum and Easter with the the U.S. Community of Sant’Egidio at Mount Manresa Retreat Center on Staten Island, NY.  (Being at the ETSU Newman Center allows me to be present to the community in this regard.  The majority of the ETSU community head home for Easter so I can be present to the Sant’Egidio community.)  It means a lot that the Sant’Egidio community has a priest to celebrate these days with them who understands the spirituality and charism of the community.  It also means a lot to me and continues to nourish and strengthen my own discipleship. 

This year, after the Triduum celebrations those who were able journeyed to Cabrini Nursing Home in Manhattan for the Easter Sunday Mass.  The New York community has been serving and praying at Cabrini for twenty years and this was the first year that Easter Sunday Mass was able to be celebrated at Cabrini.  Sadly, it will also be the last as it was just announced that Cabrini has been sold to make room for condominiums.  All the residents (some two hundred and sixty persons) are being dispersed to different nursing homes.  We pray for all our friends at Cabrini and the New York community will continue to do what it can to stay in touch with our friends at Cabrini.  (I have attached a photo from the Easter Sunday Mass.)

Even in the sadness of Cabrini closing we know that Christ is risen and that Christ is Lord and we give thanks for all the resurrections experienced at Cabrini over the years!   

Recently I have been reading God in Action: How Faith in God Can Address the Challenges of the World by Cardinal Francis George of Chicago.  I am finding it to be a good read and very enlightening on where we find ourselves in our culture today. 

At one point in the book Cardinal George writes about a discussion he had with a group of Chicago priests regarding what they might think is the source of the ills of our time.  Some of the priests suggested a forgetting of what sin is or a lack of morals or the breakdown of the family unit.  But one young priest suggested not a forgetting of sin but rather a forgetting of how to forgive.  The cardinal highlights this comment and carries it further in his book.  As a society we have forgotten how to forgive one another and because of this we have become locked in our selves holding on to and even intentionally nursing past hurts and wrongs.  Through this we are becoming turned in on ourselves and further isolated from one another.  We see this reflected in the growing violence within our society and the growing violence found within our foreign policy.  In forgetting how to forgive we become angry people and we are in danger of becoming an angry society.

The readings for the Sunday suggest a different way – a way that leads to life and not to death.

A couple of years ago (through the generosity of some friends as a Christmas gift) I was able to purchase the complete set of St. Augustine’s commentary on the psalms.  Now, I try (when time permits) to read Augustine’s thoughts on the psalm being used for the responsorial psalm in the next upcoming Sunday Mass as a way of preparing for the Sunday celebration and also trying to get some homily ideas going.  Augustine’s commentary on Psalm 51 is very insightful and beautiful I believe and demonstrates a mature awareness of the human condition.  We are all sinners before God and to deny this is a lie both about who we are and also the very nature of God.  “Create a clean heart in me, O God” is probably the truest petition any one of us can ever make to God.  Augustine cautions that we must avoid the temptation to thrust our own sins “behind our back” and pretend that they do not exist.  Rather, we must be honest and humble and keep our sins before our face because it is this humility that God recognizes and heals. 

This is how all those of upright heart conduct themselves.  Very different are the crooked who consider themselves upright and God perverse; when they do anything bad they rejoice, and when they have to endure anything bad they blaspheme.  What is more, when they find themselves in trouble and under the lash, they say from their misshapen hearts, “God, what have I done to you?”  the truth is that they have done nothing to God; all the harm they have done is to themselves.

Does this not ring true?

Elsewhere in his commentary the Bishop of Hippo encourages us to, “grip the root of deliberate love.”  God’s love for us in not haphazard and inconsistent (when often what passes for love in our world is).  God’s love in our life is deliberate, consistent and specific.  God wants nothing but what is best for us.  In the first reading (Jer. 31:31-34) we hear of this deliberateness of God: The days are coming, says the Lord, when I will make a new covenant with the house of Israel and the house of Judah … I will place my law within them and write it upon their hearts; I will be their God, and they shall be my people.

To learn forgiveness is to learn to be honest before God, to hold our own sins before ourselves before we judge one another, to petition for a clean heart to be created within us and to trust in the deliberateness of God’s love.

In his commentary Augustine also points out that where sin often seems to thrive in the spectacle (think of rock stars who seem to get their kicks by mocking religion and morality on stage in the glare of the spotlight and the camera); forgiveness is content to be humble and work in the quiet of ones own heart and ones own conscience. 

Forgiveness does not need the spectacle because it is sure in itself.

In today’s Gospel (John 12:20-33) some Greeks come to Philip seeking to see Jesus.  It could be said that they are seeking a spectacle.  It is interesting to note that Jesus never really grants their request.  Rather, our Lord, begins a reflection on how the Son of Man is to glorified and therefore how true disciples are to glorify the Son of Man in their own lives.  “Amen, amen, I say to you, unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains just a grain of wheat; but if it dies, it produces much fruit.”  Who notices the falling of a piece of grain to the ground and dying?  This is the exact opposite of the spectacle.  Yet, in this humble and unnoticed act life is born which eventually leads to true nourishment.

We need to learn the way of forgiveness.  Forgiveness brings life and it liberates from isolation and anger.  The readings for this Sunday, the Gospel, the writings of the saints, the disciplines of Lent, the sacrament of reconciliation all help to teach us this healing truth.   

Today, the Church celebrates the feast of St. Joseph.

In my Internet perusing today I came across two videos that I share below.  The first is a fine reflection by Fr. James Martin, S.J. on the hidden life of St. Joseph.  The second is a presentation by Susan Cain on the power and purpose of introversion.

In a time that has come to value personality over character the words of Susan Cain and the quiet witness of St. Joseph are a much needed corrective.

Today, on the first full day of the Catholic Center mission trip in El Salvador, our group was able to attend Sunday Mass at the chapel where Archbishop Oscar Romero was killed on March 24, 1980.  I was privileged with the opportunity to concelebrate the Mass in the chapel.  It was truly a humbling experience to stand where such a great man had so often stood and prayed and where he gave his life in witness to his faith in Christ and his desire for peace. 

Following the Mass a Carmelite sister of the community spent some time with our group as well as a group of El Salvadorian youth and told the story of Monsignor Romero’s life and the story of the day he was killed. 

At the beginning of her talk she asked all those present to give a one word description of Monsignor Romero.  Some words shared were, “faith”, “courageous”, “hope”, “humble”, “kind”, “compassionate” and the list went on.

The sister shared how the assassination took place.  During the weekday Mass a car pulled up and stopped before the open front doors of the chapel.  Archbishop Romero had just finished his homily.  A rifle pointed out a window of the car and a bullet was shot down the aisle of the church hitting the archbishop in the chest severing his aorta.  The bullet was of such kind that it exploded in his chest.  The archbishop died.

At the end of her talk the sister then asked each person to once more share their word and this time come to the main aisle in order to hold hands and form a line stretching from the altar to the front doors of the chapel.  (The sister asked me to share my word first so I was able to place my hand on the altar.) 

Once we were all in a line we were asked to reflect on the fact that this was the path of the bullet as it sped toward the archbishop.  It was in many ways a path of death but, as our words reflected, also a path of resurrection and hope.  It reflected both the way of the cross and the triumph of the resurrection. 

There is hope that one day Archbishop Oscar Romero will be officially canonized a saint of the Church but as sister told me later as we toured the Archbishop’s residence; he is already considered a saint by the people of El Salvador – the people he loved.      

One of my favorite Lenten images is the painting “Christ in the Desert” by Ivan Kramskoy (pictured above).  In the painting we have the “fully human” Christ.  He does not have a halo.  There is not a choir of angels around him.  He is not is some majestic pose.  Rather he sits alone in the hot desert.  There is a weariness and fatigue to his posture.  His shoulders are hunched and burdened.  In his expression it is easy to see that he is lost in his own thoughts.  The painting carries with it a sense of grave silence. 

I contrast this image with that of the superhero
Iron Man (image to the right). 
This figure does stand in a majestic pose.  He is all metal and strength.  His eyes gleam forth in vision and leadership.  His weak humanity is completely covered over by a suit of iron.  This is the superhero who rights wrongs and triumphs over evil … or so we are told. 

But Iron Man is a myth and not a savior and Jesus is real and never pretended to be a superhero. 

In Scripture we are told that Christ is like us in all things except sin.  In fact, Paul in his letter to the Philippians tells us that Christ emptied himself and took the form of a servant.  He humbled himself even being obedient unto death.  (Philippians 2:5-11)

If Christ is like us in all things except sin then he is not a man covered in iron but rather a man living in flesh and blood like all of us.  He knew limits and weariness.  He knew hunger and thirst.  He experienced disappointment, fear, anger and loneliness.  The whole gamut of human reality he knew even unto infinity as Pope Benedict XVI points out in his second volume of “Jesus of Nazareth” precisely because he experienced the full human condition in all its fears, uncertainties and limits without reverting to sin.  The “except sin” of Christ does not shield Jesus from the fullness of the human condition; rather it leads him ever deeper into it.  We are the ones who shield ourselves precisely through our sins. 

Our sins remain a running away from the human condition. 

Why not a superhero?  Why not a man covered in iron to save us? 

Here a poem entitled, Letter to Genetically Engineered Super Humans by Fred Dings might instruct us:

You are the children of our fantasies of form,
our wish to carve a larger cave of light,
our dream to perfect the ladder of genes and climb
its rungs to the height of human possibility,
to a stellar efflorescence beyond all injury and disease,
with minds as bright as newborn suns
and bodies which leave our breathless mirrors stunned.

Forgive us if we failed to imagine your loneliness
in the midst of all that ordinary excellence,
if we failed to understand how much harder
it would be to build the bridge of love between such splendid selves,
to find the path of humility among the labyrinth of your abilities,
to be refreshed without forgetfulness,
and weave community without the thread of need.

Forgive us if you must re-invent our flaws
because we failed to guess the simple fact
that the best lives must be less than perfect. 

Today we sit in the desert with the savior Christ – human like us in all things except sin.  He is not a superhero nor does he want to be.  In the fullness of the human condition, the much “less than perfect reality”, he turns again and again to God and he binds himself to the Father’s will.  This is what makes him both savior and brother to us.  In his grace we are now invited to also bind ourselves to God not despite of but through our imperfect human condition and to be restored in relationship to God, to one another and to our very selves. 

Now, as always, we need a savior rather than a superhero.   

Today the Church begins the season of Lent – the time of preparation for the great celebration of Easter.

I have not seen the movie “Joyful Noise” but I like this song.  I have decided to keep it close to my heart this Lent.

I would add “Fix Us Jesus” though as we are Church and we walk this journey of faith together.

As the Church enters into this season of preparation for Easter I though it appropriate to share our Holy Father’s message for Lent.  As always, it offers much food for thought…

Dear Brothers and Sisters, 
 

On February 10th the Church celebrates the feast of St. Scholastica – the sister of St. Benedict.  There is a touching story told about this sister and brother. 

Once a year, Benedict would leave his monastery and Scholastica would leave her convent and the two would meet and spend the day together enjoying one another’s company and spending the time in spiritual conversation.  Once, during a visit, their conversation continued on and on and the hour grew late.  Noticing how late it was Scholastica asked her brother to stay and to continue their conversation until the morning.  Benedict refused.  He felt he had to return to the monastery.  As her brother stood to depart, Scholastica joined her hands and bent her head in prayer.  Immediately there was a flash of lightning, a mighty roar of thunder and the sky let loose a heavy downpour of rain that would not allow Benedict nor any of his monks to leave!

Seeing the rain Benedict looked at his sister and complained, “Sister, what have you done?”  Scholastica answered, “I asked you and you would not listen; so I asked my God and he did listen.”  (The moral of the story – never cross a nun!)

At the heart of Benedictine spirituality is welcome and hospitality.  In his Rule, Benedict urges his monks to recognize that when they welcome another, whomever that person may be, they are in fact welcoming Christ. 

This sense of gratuitous and warm welcome is witnessed by Christ himself throughout the gospels.  In fact we could say that Christ again and again welcomes the other person throughout his ministry.  Christ welcomes the poor fishermen and tax collectors as his disciples.  He welcomes the public sinner, the outcast, the foreigner and the possessed.  He welcomes the one who is ill and the leper.  Again and again, Christ welcomes! 

One of the dynamics of today’s familiar gospel story (Mk. 2:1-12) – often illustrated in children’s Bibles – of the paralytic being lowered through the ceiling by his four friends is that Jesus warmly welcomes the man and his friends.  “Child,” the Lord says with gentleness, “your sins are forgiven.”  “These are words of forgiveness, a welcome that touches the foundations of our lives.” (Bishop Vincenzo Paglia)  Our Lord could have just healed the man – being very efficient about the whole matter (an attitude prized so highly by our modern age) – and gone about the rest of what needed to be done.  But he does not.  Our Lord recognizes that the paralytic man is not just a “medical and social problem” needing to be solved but a child of God yearning and needing to be noticed and loved.  Jesus acknowledges this and so he first welcomes the man; sharing God’s mercy and forgiving him of the sin that weighs him down and then he heals him of his physical ailment. 

We need to learn to welcome as Jesus welcomes. 

We live in a very cold and efficient age with many voices that encourage us to view the poor, the elderly, the foreigner, the sick, the disadvantaged as solely problems to be solved and problems best kept “out there” and “at a distance”.  We need to resist these forces that seek to separate and divide (the modern day voices of the scribes who cannot fathom the healing depth of God’s mercy).  It is not enough for a disciple of Christ to just help “at a distance”.  We need to learn to welcome to the table; to welcome just as Jesus welcomed! 

And as we learn to welcome as Jesus welcomed; the one we may be saving might just be our very selves!

Going back to the story of Benedict and Scholastica…  Three days after their visit and the downpour of rain, Scholastica died.  Benedict instantly is made aware of this by seeing her soul, in the form of a dove, ascending to heaven.  At the time of their last visit, Benedict did not realize what little time remained but God knew that Benedict needed more time with his sister.  Benedict himself needed more healing and comfort from the welcome, love and hospitality of Scholastica. 

As we learn to welcome as Christ welcomes we can help bring healing to others in a truly deep and abiding way and we can also allow healing to be brought to our own hearts.   

To begin my thoughts on this Sunday’s readings I would like to pull from the reflections of two men much more astute in Scripture and theology than I am. 

The first is Fr. Robert Barron.  In the first episode of his Catholicism series, Fr. Barron focuses on who Christ is.  The heart of the Christian faith revolves around this central compelling figure.  Fr. Barron points out that in the time of Jesus the people of Israel were yearning for the Messiah and that the true Messiah would be known by some very distinctive qualities; one of which was that the Messiah would gather the scattered tribes of Israel.  Jesus fulfills this quality but in his own unique way and not in the commonly expected way.  Jesus gathers not by political or military might but by his power to heal. 

As we see in today’s first reading (Leviticus 13:1-2, 44-46) illness, most especially leprosy, in Jesus’ day carried with it the thought of God’s condemnation.  The leper was cut off from the community of faith.  The leper must “dwell apart, making his abode outside of the camp.”  Due to this exclusion the leper and all the ill were considered unclean and therefore unable to participate in the worship and ritual life of Israel.  On a whole host of levels these poor people were removed and scattered from Israel even as they actually lived within the geographic and community boundaries of the people.  Within the very midst of society they were isolated and cut off. 

The healing act of Jesus meant not just restored health for the individual but also restored relationship with the community!  This is why Jesus in today’s gospel (Mk. 1:40-45) instructs the leper once he is cleansed, “…go, show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses prescribed; that will be proof for them.”  The healed man is now restored in his relationship with the people of Israel. 

Jesus, as Messiah, is gathering the tribes of Israel; not through political or military might but through healing. 

The second insight comes from Bishop Vincenzo Paglia of the Community of Sant’Egidio and his reflections on today’s readings.  Bishop Paglia focuses on the singularly striking fact of the leper approaching Jesus.  What enabled the man to do this when the overwhelming cultural force of the time was total exclusion of the leper?  The leper must keep far away even under pain of death yet this man had the confidence to approach Jesus.  Why?  The answer: where everyone else kept at a distance out of fear Jesus did not.  Bishop Paglia notes, “Contrary to custom, when lepers heard that Jesus was coming, they would overcome all barriers of fear and mistrust and run to him.  The young prophet from Nazareth created around himself a new environment filled with compassion and mercy that attracted the sick, sinners and the poor.”         

Jesus, as Messiah, gathers in to full relationship the ones who are isolated and cut off and he does so by subverting the dominate force of fear through a movement filled with compassion and mercy.

There are many lepers in our world today.  There are many persons isolated, cut off and imprisoned in our very midst!  They are isolated both by an imposed cultural fear from without and by their own fears and hurts within – the poor, the immigrant, the mentally handicapped, the elderly, the one who seems “different”.  What are we to do?

Paul’s advice to the Christian community in Corinth is worthy of note:

“Brothers and sisters, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do everything for the glory of God.  Avoid giving offense, whether to the Jews or Greeks or the church of God, just as I try to please everyone in every way, not seeking my own benefit but that of the many, that they may be saved.  Be imitators of me, as I am of Christ.”  (1 Cor. 10:31-11:1)

Be imitators of Christ!  Not seeking our own benefit but that of the many!  One of the benefits that we are all very good at holding very close to our chests and continually nurturing is the benefit of our own fears, our own prejudices and our own hurts.  In the light of the gospel these must be exorcised.  They must be let go of and released!  We must be imitators of Christ in the truest sense – subverting the dominate forces of fear in our lives and our world through movements of compassion and mercy! 

This is what it means to be an imitator of Christ and what it means to be the Church; the Body of Christ in our world.  This is the amazing movement of God’s grace – as we welcome the outcast in compassion and mercy; we ourselves are healed of the weight of our own fears! 

“There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” (1 John 4:18)  

God does not expect us to be perfect; God just asks us to be open to being perfected.  How are we perfected?  Through the movements of compassion and mercy. 

Christ the Messiah and Gentle Shepherd continues to gather the isolated and the outcast through healing and through mercy.  The “outcasts” here being both others and our very selves.