Archives for May 2022

Scripture:

Acts 13:13-25
John 13:16-20

Reflection:

In these days and weeks that follow Easter the image of “journeying” repeats itself time and again. We follow the disciples on the way to Emmaus. We hear the angel tell the disciples to go to Galilee where they will see the Lord. And soon, on the feast of Pentecost, the disciples will go out from the upper room and travel to the ends of the earth sharing the Good News of Jesus Christ.

In both readings today, from Acts of the Apostles and the Gospel of John, our journey in faith is retold. Paul recounts the journey of the Exodus from Egypt to John the Baptist, who points not to himself but to Jesus whom we are called to follow. And Jesus reminds the apostles that he is the one sent, he is the one who journeys in our midst so that we can find our way to the Father.

What I am drawn to in this Easter season is this sense of constant movement. There is coming and going. There are journeys to be made. The encounter with Jesus compels us to go out and proclaim the Good News. We are sent just as Jesus was sent by the Father. Perhaps the journey is not a literal trip across country. But our journey in faith moves us out of ourselves and into those places where we can proclaim the Good News. We are called to “go” and be disciples to all nations—or just to our families, our friends, our coworkers and neighbors. Our faith does not insulate us or draw us to close in on ourselves. No, our faith is a journey. But it is a journey that we travel not alone but with Jesus as our companion.

Robert Hotz is a consultant with American City Bureau, Inc. and was the Director of The Passion of Christ: The Love That Compels Campaign for Holy Cross Province.

Scripture:

Acts 12:24-13:5a
John 12:44-50

Reflection:

“After being set apart by the Holy Spirit to travel, Barnabas and Saul
were also sent on their way by the Holy Spirit.”

Barnabas and Saul came from different backgrounds and experiences, and with different gifts.  Nevertheless, the Holy Spirit used them, molded and equipped them to meet the needs of the community in Antioch.  Barnabas was a lovable teacher.  Indeed, his name described his character – Son of encouragement.  He led and taught by his encouragement, his affirmation of others.  Saul (Paul) was more prickly in his personality.  Nevertheless, God called him to lead by his preaching and many letters to the Christian communities.

Their ministry and mission emerged out of their dependence on and cooperation with God’s grace, and the needs of God’s people.  The Holy Spirit set Barnabas and Saul apart, spoke to them, and sent them on mission.

Sometimes, however, we may not listen well to the Holy Spirit, despite the Spirit’s repeated calling.  That is what happened with me.

Shortly after I was ordained a deacon, my pastor strongly recommended I take over the parish’s weekly RCIA (Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults).  I politely declined, noting that I would make a very poor teacher.  The deacon who had led the class for many years, also approached me, suggesting I reconsider.  Again, I said no. 

There the matter stood for several months, until the deacon learned sadly that he had an aggressive form of cancer and would have to lighten his ministry duties.  At that point, I had no choice but to assume the RCIA duties.

More than 17 years later, I can say the Holy Spirit spoke to me through my pastor, but I said no.  The Spirit spoke to me through my parish deacon, and again I said no.  However, it was clear the Holy Spirit was in no mood to take no for an answer from this newly minted deacon. 

It is as though the Spirit said, “enough is enough,” then took me by the scruff of my neck and yanked me into RCIA ministry.  If I had been more discerning, I would have discovered I was too much task oriented with fears of inadequacies, rather than being Spirit-oriented and focused on the needs of my parish community.  After only a few weeks, I discovered how much I enjoyed teaching the rich treasures of the Church, and preparing adults for baptism, confirmation and Communion.  More importantly, I learned to listen carefully and respond positively to the nudgings of the Holy Spirit.

Like Barnabas and Saul, we all are sent on our missionary journey, even if we are not traveling.  The Spirit sets us apart, calls us, and sends us on our way to places where we live, work, and worship.  But it isn’t the places that are the point of our journey; it is the people we encounter there.  We are called to minister to one another, to nurture and care for one another, so that together we can build up the Church, all the people of God.

The Spirit will never force us to do anything, will always give us the grace to cooperate with the Spirit.  Sometimes, that grace may require grabbing us by the scruff of the neck.

Deacon Manuel Valencia is on the staff at Mater Dolorosa Passionist Retreat Center, Sierra Madre, California.

Scripture:

Acts 11:19-26
John 10:22-30

Reflection:

I recently went through an extremely difficult, painful time. In its midst, I didn’t feel the presence of God. I’d cry out in prayer, “God, where are you? Can’t you see? Help me!” I knew in my head that God was there, but I didn’t feel it and my heart struggled mightily. I kept returning to prayer, though, choosing to believe God was with me in ways I didn’t understand, and choosing to trust God’s working within me even when I knew nothing about it.

C. S. Lewis wrote that sometimes when we are in the depths we are like drowning people. The lifeguard is right there, but we don’t relax into the help we seek. We continue flailing, panicking, and jeopardizing our rescue. Yet, like the lifeguard, God faithfully stays by our side until we’re able to accept the help and guidance abundantly offered. For me, eventually the feeling of God’s presence returned. Now, looking back, I see that God was indeed sustaining me all along, through other people and in many subtle but powerful ways. 

This is common for us humans. Like the crowds in Jesus’ day, we doubt, question, and demand answers. We want undeniable signs. We want “proof”, and we want it on our terms. We want God to act the way we want and on our timetable. Otherwise, we refuse to believe.

Perhaps one challenge of this Easter season is to let go of those doubts and demands. Can I simply believe that God loves me down to my core, without requiring that I “earn” it or prove myself worthy? Do I truly know (and act as if I know) that when I am nailed to the cross, I am nailed there with the One who can shoulder abandonment, betrayal, lashings, and despair? Do I know that my very blood flows with God’s blood, which was poured out in love? Can I surrender my spirit to God? And can I genuinely trust that when I enter the tomb I won’t stay there, that God will find a way forward for me and ultimately bring resurrection? It’s so easy to say the words and believe intellectually. I am ever learning to crack open my frightened, vulnerable heart to believe and to let God love me.

The amazing reality is that no matter how long it takes for me to do this, God continues to work in me, sustain and guide me, and heal me. God will never let me go. As Jesus says: “My Father, who has given them to me, is greater than all, and no one can take them out of the Father’s hand.” Can you join me this season in trusting more thoroughly in that love and faithfulness?

Amy Florian is a teacher and consultant working in Chicago.  For many years she has partnered with the Passionists.  Visit Amy’s website: http://www.corgenius.com/.

Scripture:

Acts 11:1-18
John 10:1-10

Reflection:

                             The Shepherd Who Was Slain for His Sheep Is Truly Risen

The gospels for the Fourth Sunday of Easter tell us of the Good Shepherd, and are divided into three parts, giving us a different reading for each year of the lectionary. Today, Monday, we find ourselves at the beginning of chapter 10, being introduced to Jesus, the Good Shepherd. It is a warm welcome to intimacy with Jesus and the Father. What will follow in the larger gospel of John is the raising of Lazarus, the anointing of Jesus by Mary of Bethany, and the entry into Jerusalem. We are close to the Passion where the Good Shepherd lays down his life for his sheep.

This Good Shepherd is described as out in front, leading us. We know it is not to a place. The shepherd leads us in a different sense. If we took the symbol of the Good Shepherd as leading us literally, Jesus would probably not be in front! Sheep follow all over the place, so to speak. They run ahead and wander around the edges, some even go a bit too far – the lost sheep. A Good Shepherd lets the sheep wander a bit because they know what they are looking for, something tasty to munch on or a bit of water. They may be better at finding those things than shepherd himself or herself.

No, our reading introduces us to the one who leads us into a relationship of intimacy. This Shepherd calls his sheep by name; how familiar! He knows them and they know him; they recognize his voice. Our Shepherd is like a gate; we are secure when he is not with us, and the gate opens onto good pasture.

John situates the gospel during the feast of the Dedication as Israel celebrates their deliverance and the rededication of the temple desecrated by Antiochus IV, the story of the Book of Maccabees. Much suffering was inflicted upon the Jewish people. Despite stories of faithfulness and martyrdom, some abandoned their trust and faith in the God of Israel. Remembering those who turned their back upon God who dwelt in the Holy of Holies in the temple, Jesus refers to those who are leading the sheep of the house of David away from the One who is the Way to the Father. Jesus comes to bring the fullness of life to his sheep. There are those who would rob the Sheep of the gift of the Father.

Beautiful as today’s reading is we want more. Can we ever get enough intimacy with those whom we love? John’s gospel continues beyond our reading: “I know my sheep and my sheep know me in the same way that the Father knows me and I know the Father”. When John began his gospel he told us that Jesus was at the Father’s side. Again, not a physical location but so much more. It is intimate love, like a mother holding her nursing baby. We hear the same of the beloved disciple at the last supper. This disciple at Jesus side shares an intimate relationship with Jesus. We are that disciple. As he is one with Jesus, the disciple is also one with the Father, because Jesus is the way to the Father. The intimacy that Jesus knows with the Father is what he gives us. To know Jesus is to know the Father, to be one with Jesus is to be one with the Father through Jesus. The sheep gate opens onto a rich pasture for us, indeed!

“I am the Good Shepherd that lays down his life for his sheep…The Father loves me for this: that I lay down my life to take it up again….My sheep hear my voice….I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish…The Father and I are one”. How do we capture such intimacy?

We all know the holy cards that show a Good Shepherd gently carrying a lamb. As being led to a specified location is not at issue, rather intimacy, so being a lamb is not important really. We are the ones embraced by the Risen One, the Lamb who was slain. He calls us be name, responding to each of us uniquely, as the Risen One does to the people to whom he appears during these Easter days.

To the One seated on the throne, and to the Lamb, be praise, honor and glory and might, forever and ever! Alleluia!

Fr. William Murphy, CP is a member of Immaculate Conception Community in Jamaica, New York.

Scripture:

Acts 13:14, 43-52
Revelation 7:0, 14b-17
John 10: 27-30

Reflection:

The Good Shepherd

There is nothing like the sound of a friend’s voice, of someone we know and trust. A familiar voice assures us of a familiar presence, someone who is within reach and who can share in our joy or console us in our sorrow. Writing about the mystery of our Lord’s descent into hell and his victory over death, Pope Benedict once drew a comparison to the common experience of being afraid of the dark: “If a child had to venture out alone through the woods on a dark night, he would be afraid even if he were to be shown a hundred times that there was nothing to fear. He is not afraid of anything specific, to which he could put a name, but in the dark, he feels insecure, an orphan, he feels the sinister character of inner existence. Only a human voice could console him; only the hand of a person he loves could banish the anguish, like a bad dream.”

How appropriate that we hear this Gospel passage on Mother’s Day. Jesus compares himself to a shepherd, guiding and protecting us. He promises the sheep of his flock that he will forever hold them securely in his hand. How fortunate we are who have had mothers who have guided us, protected us, loved us, and held us, who have treated us with the tender loving care of the Good Shepherd. Christ’s own passage through death frees us from the fear that we will be abandoned in death.

In this Easter season we rejoice in the certainty that Christ’s voice reaches the dead, calling them to life. “The hour is coming and is now here when the dead will hear the voice of the Son of God, and those who hear will live” (Jn 5:25, cf. 5:28). On this Good Shepherd Sunday, we take heart and are encouraged by our Lord’s words. When we feel lonely or far from God, we can turn to him in confidence, for he will never abandon us. Lord Jesus, you have risen from the dead and conquered sin. Give us the grace to remain always united to you, in life and in death. My sheep hear my voice; I know them, and they follow.

Deacon Peter Smith serves at St. Mary’s/Holy Family Parish in Alabama, a religion teacher at Holy Family Cristo Rey Catholic High School in Birmingham, and a member of our Passionist Family.

Scripture:

Acts 9:31-42
John 6:60-69

Reflection:

Jesus then said to the Twelve, “Do you also want to leave?”
Simon Peter answered him, “Master, to whom shall we go?
You have the words of eternal life.
We have come to believe
and are convinced that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:67-68)

Daily, I like to walk 10,000 + steps and on Sundays, I hop on a bus down to Michigan Avenue and there walk up and down the street as well as in and out of the stores. I usually am able to avoid any salespeople and keep up a good pace. This past Sunday, Samuel, standing outside his store in the mall, hooked me in by holding out what looked to be a brown straw and offering it to me. As soon as I took the bait, Samuel, took out another one, bit off one end, and drank the contents, at the same time suggesting I do that as well. So began an interesting fifteen or twenty minutes of listening to Samuel’s spiel and just narrowly escaping with my wallet in tack.

My world, as I suspect yours is as well, is inundated daily by emails, texts, and phone calls, telling me what I should do, who I should support in the coming elections, who I should condemn and where I should spend my money. This Information Age can and often does challenge my patience and leave me wondering, who is right.

Jesus, I respond with Simon Peter today and ask: “Master, to whom should I go…” I feel like Samuel (not the salesman I mention above who has all the answers, but the one in scripture, who keeps hearing your call). Help me hear your word today, Jesus, and to follow you.

Dan O’Donnell is a Passionist Partner and a longtime friend of the Passionists.  He lives in Chicago.  

Scripture:

Acts, 9:1-20
John 6:52-59

Reflection:

We don’t call it idolatry, but it can be.

In our minds, often in the deep recesses, we each carry concepts of what we long for our lives. These are our plans, our hopes, our ideals, everything that gives us direction and meaning. They shape our daily commitments, our lives’ work and worth.

They include school and career plans, designs for a life partner and a family, hopes for financial security and possessions to ease life’s pains and chaos, respect of our families, friends and communities, enough power over life’s variables to call our own shots and keep threats at bay.

These concepts are endorsed by our cultures, our societies, blessing our efforts with acceptance and applause for achieving certain goals.

Then, out of nowhere, the unexpected happens. A spouse is unfaithful, a child overdoses, the diagnosis is cancer, the rejection letter comes from the ideal university, a toddler is diagnosed with autism, the company sends a pink slip, the mentor dies of a heart attack, a loved one is murdered or permanently disabled by a drunk driver.

The trauma, unplanned and disruptive, derails any loyalty contract we have with our dreams, our ideal life, our carefully mapped out path to happiness. Our idol is knocked off its pedestal.

Such disruption, such discontinuity, can lead some to retreat, to seek comfort in what will never give comfort…drugs, alcohol, gambling, addiction to sex, dominating others, craving more status or possessions, all to fill the hole left by the disappointment, the “failure” experienced when life as we plan it is shattered.

In today’s reading from Acts we learn of a focused, goal-oriented man whose life’s work was assured to be the work of God. He won praise and status among his peers for stamping out this new group of followers of Jesus.

Then, out of the blue, he was literally knocked off his high horse.

Dazed and confused, he retreated to sort out the meaning of the trauma.

In time, by the slow workings of the Spirit, this fanatic of Jewish righteousness grew in his awareness of his new identity to become the man God wanted his to become.

He surrendered, giving his entire self to a whole new set of loyalties. The rest is history…Christianity crossed the barrier of being a Jewish sect to extend its reach to all Gentiles, to become radically all inclusive.

The extraordinary experience of Paul of Tarsus was not unique to him. Sooner or later each of us will experience our own tumbles from our high horses. These moments are Providential. Rather than retreat into depression or a superficial distraction, they are occasions to awaken to a deeper, richer relationship with Christ. We learn, as Paul learned, that God’s love and grace is all we need when we surrender to the new reality God gives us.

And, as John explains in today’s Gospel, our fullness of life is found in our connection to the Body and Blood of Christ. This nourishment gives us life when all is bleak, dark and deadening.

The setback, the giving up what we made too important, our idol, becomes a gift to strengthen our dependence on God, to help us see the path God intends for us, to provide what we need to live solely to do God’s will, God’s plan and God’s goals for us. This transformation is painful. It really hurts. And it demands total self-giving, total humility.

We learn the meaning of our new reality when we pray in silence, which is the language of God.

Jim Wayne is a board member of the Passionist Solidarity Network (PSN), and author of The Unfinished Man. He lives in Louisville, Kentucky.

Scripture:

Acts 8:26-40
John 6:44-51

Reflection:

Philip ran up and heard him reading Isaiah the prophet and said, “Do you understand what you are reading?”  –Acts 8:30

Jesus said to the crowds: “No one can come to me unless the Father who sent me draw him, and I will raise him on the last day. It is written in the prophets: They shall all be taught by God. 
Everyone who listens to my Father and learns from him comes to me.  -John 6:44-45

The readings from today have a great deal to teach us about belonging. Who’s in and who’s out. In the first reading Philip is impelled by the spirit to travel down the road. Little did he know he was being sent on a mission. Have you ever just gotten the urge to get up and go somewhere? And then once you got there found something tremendous and wonderful? Once, when my wife and I were visiting in Italy we pulled over for lunch. We were on our way to somewhere else and wanted to quickly get back on the road, but, while we were eating, we looked up on the hill next to us. There seem to be a monastery or church of some kind. We decided to investigate before traveling further. It turned out to be a Passionist monastery! We tried the front doors, but they were locked tight. As we turned to leave and continue our journey we heard a voice from high above us, “Che cosa sta cercando?” (What are you looking for?) We told him in the best Italian we could muster that we were tourists, just looking to see if the church was open. “Un momento!” he called. This led to a most joyful evening of being given a private tour of the church, gently lit by glass chandeliers and star light. What a delightful treat we would’ve missed if we had not listened to the inner prompting to set aside our plans and go where we were led.

And the gospel Jesus tells us that no one can come to him unless the father draws them. It’s interesting that if you go back to the Greek this includes not only people but everything. In addition, the word, “draw,” can also be translated as being led or impelled. So another translation could be “everything is impelled by God to be joined with Jesus.” Some days it seems the best I can do is get out of my own way and let God direct me. Actually, if truth be told, that would be best every day.

In addition to being an independent teacher (now online!), Talib Huff is on the retreat team at Christ the King Retreat Center In Citrus Heights. You can contact him at [email protected].